I eyed the glass speculatively. “It’s just…,” I looked around to see if anyone was within earshot. “I don’t drink, remember?” I raised my eyebrows, surprised he would’ve forgotten.
He chuckled softly, “Oh, right. Twenty. Mm. How could I forget? You do realize, darling, that you can drink here, though?”
My cheeks flushed with red. “Oh,” I said shyly. “I forgot.” I picked up the glass gingerly, unsure as if there might be some particular technique I didn’t know.
Lucas looked around again before he spoke, protective of my privacy. “That’s it – hold it by the stem, swirl it a little bit in the glass, like this,” he demonstrated, “then take a sniff to get an idea of the flavors, then sip it.” I followed his instructions carefully.
“It’s good, actually,” I said, giggling a little.
“I should hope so. That one’s two-hundred pounds a bottle.” He winked at me.
“You must think I’m such a country bumpkin.” I shook my head a little, embarrassed, as I set the glass down on the table.
Lucas reached out across the table and took my hand in his. “Never apologize for what you don’t know, Georgia. If you haven’t been taught something, or haven’t had an experience, that’s not your fault. If you chose to be ignorant, never to experience anything or learn anything, that would be a different matter altogether.” My hand disappeared into his massive palm as he rubbed it between his thumb and fingers. His touch was reassuring, and I didn’t want it to end. “I’m honored that I get to experience some of these new things with you.” I gave him a look of slight suspicion. “No, I mean it. Your first time abroad, your first wine, and who knows what else in the weeks to come. Despite the conversation, we’ve had, and my feelings there will not change, mind you, I won’t let anything happen to you while we’re together. I’ll make sure you’re safe, and I’ll never, ever embarrass you. On that score, you have my word, as a gentleman.”
I searched his face for a moment and looked into his eyes. I knew he was telling the truth. He had been very clear about wanting me, but I knew he wasn’t going to hurt me – not intentionally, anyway. It was the unintentional danger my heart might be in if I let him get too close that was more worrisome, though.
“Thank you, Lucas.” I squeezed his hand back. “And you know, about what you shared earlier – about your recent troubles, I mean…I’m really sorry you’ve had to go through all that.”
“What do you mean,” he asked as he took a sip of wine with his free hand.
“Well, I know you’ve got a reputation like I said, but I’m pretty good at readin’ people, and I can tell that, deep down, you’re really a good guy. I don’t know what happened between you and your wife, but she shouldn’t have treated you like that, no matter what.” I furrowed my brow a little, annoyed at the thought someone would cheat on their spouse, and then publicly humiliate them on top of it. I was especially mad when I thought of someone doing that to a person as sweet as Lucas seemed to be deep down. “I don’t think people have treated you very fairly. If they could see the whole picture, they would think different of you, I know it.”
Lucas was quiet for a moment. “You…you really mean that, don’t you?” He asked, a little incredulously.
“I do mean it,” I replied, smiling.
“Thanks. You really are a sweet southern belle, aren’t you? Just like honey,” I shrugged in response and giggled playfully. “Hmm, you know, Belle has a nice ring to it. It’s French for beautiful too, you know. The name suits you.” He winked.
Michael returned to the table with the salad course. It had beets and bleu cheese and was tossed in a vinaigrette dressing. I loved the pungent broccoli rabe in contrast with the sweet, red beets. We finished the salads, and the chateaubriand was served next. Michael poured a red wine to go with it.
“The chateaubriand is delicious!” I exclaimed. I took a sip of the wine and looked to Lucas.
“This red is a little more bitter,” he remarked, “let it sit on the back of your tongue instead of the tip. I took another sip and nodded. By the time dessert was served, I had consumed several glasses and was reasonably drunk. Lucas thanked Michael for dinner and called a car to take us back to my hotel.
CHAPTER 8
Lucas
Once we arrived at her hotel, it was clear Georgia was in no shape to get herself to bed safely. I found the keycard in her handbag and helped her into her room. “I can do it my-self!” She had said it in a slur as she tried to figure out how to unzip her dress.
“Well, it would help if it actually had a zipper. Here, let me help you,” I said.
“No, no, no!” She squealed, “I’m a grown-ass woman, ‘member? I can fuck whoever I want!” I laughed heartily at this drunken version of the sweet little southern girl by whom I had become so charmed. Swearing was a juxtaposition to her gentle demeanor, and I found it incredibly sexy on her somehow. I finally took matters into my own hands, literally, by scooping her up and depositing her on the bed. I pulled off one shoe, then the other, revealing perfectly pedicured red toenails. I had the urge to start kissing at her ankles and work my way all the way up but stifled it.
Hesitantly, I tugged on her skirt, sliding it down over her hips, past the fair, peach-colored skin of her thighs, revealing pale blue, lace underpants. She giggled as I pushed the skirt past her feet and I deposited it on a nearby chair. The small dark spot of moisture in the middle of the pale blue fabric of her panties immediately caught my attention, and I had to remind myself that I wanted her in her senses when we got together, not like this. Steady on, man, I thought. Do things properly. She’s in no shape for that tonight. With one hand, I adjusted the growing erection in my slacks. I sat her up on the bed and pulled her sweater off over her head. Her full breasts spilled from the top of a bra the same color as the panties. Fuck me, she is the sexiest woman I’ve ever seen. I pulled her to her feet long enough to put the covers back on the bed, then deposited her into the crisp sheets.
As I reached around her to pull the covers up over her, she slid her arms around my neck and tried pulling me to her, giggling. Steady on, I thought again, my throbbing member aching. I gently removed her arms from around my neck and pulled the covers up tight around her. I walked to the little desk and pulled out a note card and a pen. I wrote on it, leaving it propped up on top of her handbag. I turned as I went to leave and could see she was already sound asleep. I closed the door gently behind me as I left.
I arrived at Georgia’s hotel early the next morning and went up to her room to find out just how bad off she was. I knocked on the door of her room and was surprised to find her awake, ready, and chipper as ever. “Good morning!” She said when she opened the door.
“Good morning yourself,” I said, dropping my sunglasses to look at her over the tops of them. “How are we feeling this morning?”
“Great, thanks, how ‘bout you?” Georgia smiled back at me.
“I’m fine, but I didn’t drink half the wine in London last night. I’m surprised to find you in such good nick,” I grinned.
“I had a little bit of a headache, but I took some BC Powder, and it’s fine now.” She smiled, stepping into a pair of flats. “I got your note, Lucas. You’re so sweet. Thank you.” She leaned up and gave me a peck on the cheek. The note I had left her read, Dear Belle - thanks for a lovely evening, and for letting me treat you to some firsts. I’m looking forward to more. xo, Lucas “I have to ask you about something, though,” she said.
“What’s that?” I replied.
“Did you…I mean, clearly I was in bed, and you left me that note…what happened? Exactly?”
I threw my head back and laughed. “You were off your legs, that’s what! I brought you back and tucked you into bed.”
“So, you…got me undressed?” She asked sheepishly.
“Mm-hmm,” I replied, raising an eyebrow at her. “That I did.”
“But we didn’t…I mean nothin’…,” she looked up at me, then quickly cast her ey
es away, embarrassed.
I stepped forward and grazed her cheek with my fingertips. “Well, darling, you don’t seem to be having any trouble walking this morning, so what do you think?”
She blushed in response. “Well, I didn’t think anything happened, but I wanted to make sure…,” she cast her eyes aside as she trailed off.
“It wasn’t easy to walk away, trust me. Especially when you tried to pull me into the bed,” I smirked, and she turned beet red. “But I want you fully in your senses when you invite me into your bed for the first time. I wouldn’t want you to miss any of it!” I slapped her on the ass, startling her, and she let out a little squeal. “Okay, if we want breakfast before the shoot, we’d better go. Come on, Belle.” She rolled her eyes, remembering our discussion about the nickname from the night before.
After breakfast, we drove to a spot near St. James’ Park and met John and the film crew. Ian, Sarah, Ryan, and Pierce were all set up and ready to go. The makeup and hair artist, Karen, introduced herself as well, and immediately started working on Georgia, who would have the majority of the day’s filming with me appearing in some cameos and a few interactions with her on film.
The first scenes had her walking through St. James’ Park, the swans swimming in the background with the iconic London Eye in the distance. Ryan used a panning technique from in front of Georgia as she walked the delicate gravel pathways. Sarah captured some stills as Ryan filmed, and Pierce followed her, holding a microphone on a boom above her head. They took some additional stills of her and me on the little footbridge with the water in front of us, then moved on to the small tea house across from the park that was known for its hot cross buns as the next filming location. We spent the rest of the day filming Georgia and shooting atmospheric shots known as b-roll to be cut into the show and promotional materials.
That evening, the focus of the filming moved to me as we shot at the bar on top of the Shard, then moved on to a late-night shoot at the London Eye, which John had especially arranged. The spot had a history for me, and it made me uneasy, but I powered through. Georgia had done a costume change into a dress that was more suited to clubbing. The dress was black with a scooped neck and full skirt that looked spectacular on her compact, curvy figure. They had amped up her look with straightened hair and an elegant pair of heels. She looked stunning, though I really loved her curls when her hair was natural. After we wrapped, she stood on the sidewalk with John. I watched their conversation as I stepped away to make some arrangements of my own.
“So, Nash says you went to dinner last night?” I heard John ask her.
“Yeah, it was great. We ate at the chef’s table at the restaurant where he got his first Michelin star. The food was amazin’.” She beamed at him. Seeing her so happy because of something I had done for her filled me with a degree of pride I couldn’t quite explain, but it sent a warm feeling straight to my core.
“That’s good, Georgia,” John replied. He looked down at the ground, then back at the beautiful girl in front of him. He lowered his voice and leaned in. I could only imagine what he was telling her. Lucas is my friend, but…watch yourself…don’t get too close. It was becoming clear I’d have to straighten him out sooner rather than later where she was concerned.
The next thing I heard was Georgia saying, “…but I’m a big girl. I can take care of myself better than people think I can.” That’s my girl, I thought. Give him what for!
I returned to the pair. “Everything alright?” Georgia asked.
“Yeah, good, thanks,” I turned to John. “You can head out mate. We’ll see you in the morning. Georgia,” I turned back to her, “would you mind hanging back for a bit?”
“You okay, Georgia?” John asked her, placing a protective hand on her shoulder. It infuriated me. Did he seriously think she needed protection from me? Had he so little faith in me?
She started to say yes, but I cut her off. “Seriously, mate, what’s your fucking problem?” I snapped. He furrowed his brow, his eyes flashing dark. “She’s a grown woman and can do what she likes. I’m not a fucking predator, and if she wants to blow me in the middle of Oxford Street it’s no business of yours, so sod off!”
I looked back to Georgia for confirmation, and she took my hand, turning back to John. “Goodnight, John,” she said quietly. I led her back to the launch pad on the London Eye.
“Are we goin’ back up?” Georgia asked.
“Yeah…I mean, would you? Go back up with me?” When she looked at me, I could see her gauging my expression. I knew the look on my face was hopeful, maybe even pleading, but I hoped she didn’t think I was too pathetic. I needed her that night. It wasn’t about sex or my career. It was about what I had seen in her in the time we’d been getting to know each other. She genuinely cared about other people, and she didn’t need or want anything from me at all. That night, in particular, it was me who needed something – I needed her company. If she said no, and went back to her hotel room, I would be completely gutted.
Georgia nodded, and my whole body heaved a sigh of relief. We stepped into the pod, and it began moving. The wheel was closed, so our pod was the only one occupied. The internal lights were off, and only the colored lights outside were on. As the capsule began to move, I started to pace around the perimeter of the pod. I stopped on one end, leaning on the handrail and surveyed the city below. The lights of London twinkled all around us, the dark swathe of water that was the River Thames snaked through the city below. Her broad smile and sparkling eyes told me that Georgia found the scene beautiful, just as I did every time I saw the city from this perspective.
“It’s stunning,” Georgia said, leaning close to me.
“London’s the best place on earth. She’s incredibly beautiful,” I said, “Complex, and irresistible. She’s the maiden, the mother, and the scold. One minute, she seduces you, opening herself up to you, and just when you let yourself sink into her pleasure, she pushes you away, cold and unyielding.” The emotion was heavy. Perhaps this hadn’t been such a good idea after all. I shook my head, then went to the bench in the center of the pod and sat, elbows on my knees, and buried my face in my hands.
Georgia seemed understandably perplexed. She walked to the opposite end of the bench, kicking off her heels and dropping her bag, then stepped back and stood in front of me, placing her fingertips gingerly on my shoulder. “Ya know, my mama liked to say that a burden shared is lighter to carry.”
I looked up at her. “I proposed to Simone here,” I said dejectedly. “Today would have been our two-year wedding anniversary.”
Simone was a model, tall, lean, and muscular. The sex with her had been athletic, and there was little she was unable or unwilling to do. We had met at French television awards after party, and she had come up to me and introduced herself. Later, when I got in the limo to return home, I found her in the back waiting for me. We were together nonstop after that. Whenever we were out on the town in London or Paris, the press was everywhere. The stunning French model, and the handsome British chef, the media was fond of saying. Given my family connections, it was no wonder they hounded us. I hired out the London Eye to propose to Simone. I had made sure the area was closed off, but again, the press found us, and proposal photos were on the front of the tabloids the next day. A short engagement and a chic Parisian wedding followed. After less than a year of marriage, though, Simone had become aloof. She had taken up acting, and small film roles took her to Canada for filming for a month. When she returned, she spent more time in Paris visiting friends and family. I awoke one Sunday morning and took a stroll down to get a coffee only to see my wife plastered on the front of the tabloids, half-naked, with a French financier old enough to be her father. I would like to say I was surprised by it, but I never was much of a liar.
I scanned Georgia’s body, taking in everything that was her, and gingerly took her hand in mine. She’s so small, I thought, so delicate, but so strong at the same time. She stepped forward and pulled my head toward her, run
ning her hands through my hair. It was sensual, but not sexual. If I had died in that instant, I could have died a happy man. I slid my hands around her back and pulled her body against me. I slid my palms down the back of her thighs and brought her legs forward, so she was kneeling, hovering above my lap on the bench. Looking down at me, she and ran her small, delicate fingers along the edge of my jaw. She started to lean down to kiss me, but as much as it pained me, I stopped her. “No,” I shook my head gently. “Not yet. Not here.”
She understood and stroked the side of my face gingerly. Leaning in more, she pressed my face to her chest, and put her cheek on top of my head, draping her arms around my shoulders. I enveloped her in my arms, pulling her tightly, savoring the feel of her against me. We stayed like that, entwined silently in each other, for the remainder of the pod’s two rotations. When it came to a stop, I looked up at her, placing my chin on her in the space between her breasts. I ran my hands up and down her back and hips. She had given me more of herself – more true caring and emotion at that moment than Simone had in the whole time I’d known her. “Georgia…you might be my salvation,” I said quietly.
Sweet Promise (The Grahams Book 1) Page 7