by Lily Harlem
“As soon as I can if it’s okay with you.”
“Of course, just let me know.” Biting into a sandwich, I tried not to think about how it would feel saying goodbye to him in the morning. Knowing it would be hours, days, possibly weeks before we were together again. I didn’t know how I would be able to breathe without him, let alone function.
“I’m spending Christmas with my sister, she’s had a rough time too, split with her guy of eight years. And since it is only the second Christmas since we lost our parents, we kind of promised each other to hang out.”
“That’s nice.”
“And you?”
“With my parents, they live in Surrey.”
He nodded and looked thoughtful for a moment. “But then I’m not doing much for New Year, maybe I could travel down if you’ll be back in the city by then.”
Reaching for the teapot, I poured us both a cup. “Yes, I’ll be home by then.”
“Great.” He added two big spoonfuls of sugar to his tea. “We could go to Trafalgar Square and jump in the fountains at the stroke of midnight.” Sipping his steaming drink, he looked over the brim of his cup at me. “And then go back to your place. Hopefully you’ll have found me a novel to read by then that you want to mess around with.”
I grinned. It sounded like a perfect plan and as he said it a delicious scene from Swashbuckling on the High Seas came to me. Captain Hawkeye was rather fond of spanking; something told me Shane would get quite into that role if I put it to him.
“But I’ll call you on Christmas Day,” he said. “You know, say hi, see how it’s going with your parents and get a tally on how many mince pies you’ve eaten compared to me.”
“Yes, I’ll look forward to it.”
After we finished eating and the movie had come to an end, Shane fulfilled his and my desire to make love on the sofa.
Without saying a word, he tucked me beneath him, looked deep into my eyes and entered me. Slowly but surely he brought us both to a mind-altering climax by doing nothing more than rocking his sinfully talented hips.
I clung to him afterward, panting. Heat from the fire competed with the heat pouring from our bodies, and my pussy gripped and released his cock for what felt like an eternity.
His masculine smell invaded every breath I took, his taste filled my mouth and his body seemed to touch every inch of mine, inside and out. I was lost to him, nothing and no one else existed.
My life would never be the same again.
Eventually he smoothed the hair back from my damp forehead and kissed me, softly, gently, before exploring my neck, behind my ear and down to my shoulder. I fluttered my eyes shut and felt the sweet envelope of sleep engulf me. It took me to a wondrous place of love and passion, peace and contentment.
A place that consisted of only Shane and me.
Chapter Eight
I pulled into the parking lot of Safe as Houses and yanked on the handbrake, knowing as I performed the sharp gesture that I shouldn’t be so rough. My foul mood wasn’t my little VW’s fault and this was, after all, its first trip out this year.
Before reaching for my purse, I stretched to look at my eyes in the rearview mirror. Yep, as bad as I suspected. Why Radio One still thought it was okay to play Wham’s Last Christmas on the fourth of January I had no idea. The damn thing had set me off all over again, just when I’d brought my emotions under control ready to face everyone.
After searching for the handkerchief that was permanently shoved up my sleeve these days, I set about blowing and powdering my nose and applying a slick of clear gloss to my lips. I then added two drops of Bright Eyes into each of my lower lids. Marvelous stuff. By the time I got up to the office, as long as nothing else set me off, I wouldn’t look as though I’d sobbed all the way to work.
Stepping onto the now snow-free tarmac, I straightened the outfit I’d bought on my way back from The Fenchurch. Still high on my own personal drug, which was of course Shane, I’d stopped at a designer retail outlet and blown my whole bonus on snazzy new clothes. They were all Dawn style and each look had been completed with killer shoes, funky costume jewelry and break-the-bank handbags. Who cared, I’d been happy, in love, I’d needed this stuff for all the hot dates I had in my future.
My parents had been very complimentary of the “new me” on Christmas Day. They’d liked my skinny jeans and green sweater teamed with Ugg boots and a faux-fur-lined jacket. Mum had especially gushed over the chunky bracelet and green hoop earrings I’d added. It hadn’t taken her long to guess there was a man in my life. She made quick work of cornering me in the kitchen under the pretense of needing help with the vegetables.
But once I started talking about Shane and how wonderful he was I couldn’t stop, just saying his name and picturing his face made me smile and caused my heart to swell. Mum didn’t seem to mind and grinned and nodded and asked all the right questions. Naturally, I refrained from adding any details of how skilled he was in the bedroom or how much he’d enjoyed acting out a racy scene from my favorite book.
As the day went on I started to clock watch. He’d said he’d call to compare mince pie consumption. Dinner was eaten and cleared away, the Queen made her speech and, as he did each year on Christmas afternoon, James Bond saved the world. Afterward, helping Dad make the turkey sandwiches for supper, I could feel my mood sinking.
Finally my cell rang. Late. After ten at night.
“Ashley?”
“Shane,” my voice bubbled with relief.
“Happy Christmas.”
“You too, have you had a nice day with your sister?”
“Yes, fine, quiet. You?”
“Lovely. Mum did a great spread of food, far too much for the three of us.”
There was a pause.
“Sounds nice,” he said.
Another pause.
“Did you watch James Bond?” I asked. Something was wrong. I could tell. His voice was distant, preoccupied. “Shane, are you okay?”
“Um, yep, fine, has the snow gone there?”
“Yes, pretty much, a few sprinkles on high ground.”
We chatted for a few minutes but he seemed distracted. Eventually I asked again, “Are you sure everything is okay?”
“Yes, honey, it’s fine, but listen I can’t really chat now, got lots on, with, er, my sister and that, but I’ll catch up with you soon, okay?”
“Oh, all right then.”
“Bye, Ashley, take care.”
“Yes, you too, see you.”
The line went dead.
The week passed between Christmas and New Year without another word from him and it was as though my heart had died too.
Finally, on the stroke of midnight on New Year’s Eve, I’d received a text.
Happy New Year. Sorry I’m not there, see you soon. Shane xxx
Well, if he couldn’t be bothered to ring and tell me why he wasn’t here or when he intended to see me, then I certainly didn’t want to respond to a crappy text message. Not when he’d been supposed to actually, physically be with me on New Year’s Eve.
So apart from one brief, stilted conversation and one text message we’d had no contact since saying goodbye at The Fenchurch. He’d kissed me through the open window of my car and waved me off. I’d nearly hit a tree as I’d watched him in my rearview mirror climbing into his Golf, feasting on every last moment of seeing him.
Sighing, I pushed open the front door to Safe as Houses and nodded an overbright hello to Samantha the receptionist. Why I was thinking of all this now I had no idea. I’d spent days moping around my flat, crying, eating chocolate and trying desperately to lose myself in fiction.
How could he behave like this? How could he have said the things he did if he’d never wanted more than a bit of fun while we were snowed in? I was a big girl. I could have handled the truth. But acting as though it was going to be more, as though I meant something to him, was just plain cruel.
The thing was, I knew in my heart of hearts that Shane wasn’t a cruel man. The
only explanation was that he’d got caught up in the moment and it had made him say things he didn’t really feel. So with that in mind, I’d faced the truth. I was a two-night stand with a bit of kinky fun thrown in. A notch on his bedpost after going through a post-divorce sex drought. I tried to find comfort in the fact that I’d had a great time and my damn virginity had been well and truly gotten rid of.
But the way it had ended between us made the memories bittersweet. And the image of his face and the scent of his skin, instead of fading, each day just intensified, ripping open the hole in my heart afresh every morning when I awoke and remembered he was never going to be part of my life, and that all he’d left me with was a whole vat of longing.
I climbed the flight of stairs to my office. At least Dawn wasn’t going to be there today. She’d texted to say she’d had a sudden opportunity to go skiing for New Year so wouldn’t be in until the eighth. That suited me. I would tell her most of what happened, but on this first day back I was too raw and I really didn’t want to cry at work. I’d made a pact with myself not to. I’d get my head down, go to whatever meetings I was called to and work through my customer list. If I could get through the day without one tear in public, then I’d reward myself with a new e-book tonight. But not a contemporary, something paranormal, preferably where the hero gets hunted down and bitten, hard. Henrietta Dowling’s new title Savaged by Virgins sprang to mind and I made a mental note to add it to my cart.
Dumping my new handbag on my desk, I whizzed my laptop to life. Stepping to the window did nothing to improve my mood. The January sky lay gray over the London rooftops, the sun barely visible through the blanket of mist.
“Hey, Ashley, Happy New Year.”
I turned to see Gareth standing in the doorway to my office. “Happy New Year to you too,” I said.
“Love the new skirt,” he grinned, dropping his gaze down my white silk blouse to the tight black pencil skirt I was wearing, then on to my sheer stockings and patent heels.
“Thanks.”
His smile broadened. “Did you hear about Derek retiring?”
“Yes, I was at The Fenchurch when it was announced.” I tensed and willed my traitorous body not to react to the name of the hotel where I’d given my heart away.
“Oh yeah, ’course you were. Quite a shock though, thought the old guy would hang around for a bit longer yet.”
“Well, he’s got lots he wants to do with Janice, I think he’ll be kept very busy.”
“He’s coming in at ten though, to announce who’ll be taking over from him.” Gareth rubbed his hands together.
“You fancy your chances?” I asked, bending over and tapping in my password.
He shrugged. “Why not, stranger things have happened.”
I nodded. “Yes, well, good luck if that’s what you want.”
He tipped his head. “Don’t you? You’ve been here for five years.”
“No, it’s not what I want at all.” There was only one thing, one person I wanted and that was never going to happen, not now.
Pulling in a deep breath, I forced myself to smile, praying that Gareth wouldn’t hang around for too much longer. I needed to be alone, it was the best thing for me in my current state.
“Well, if I do get it, Ashley, I’m going out celebrating and you,” he paused and a devilish grin tipped his mouth, “should be prepared to come with me for a wild night at Dover Street Bar.”
He was hopeful and enthusiastic, I could give him that. So I muttered something noncommittal and pretended to be engrossed in my emails. Thankfully, he wandered away, albeit humming a damn Christmas tune.
I came across an email from Rachel and clicked it open.
Hi Ashley,
I just wanted to say what a wonderful time I had at The Three Horseshoes that snowy, stolen afternoon. The food and the pub were perfect but it was the company that made it really special.
I hope you’ll stay in touch as a friend and not just a work colleague and I hope all goes well between you and Shane. You really are a match made in heaven and it was clear how happy you made each other that day.
Rachel x
I stabbed my finger at the keyboard and hit delete.
Match made in heaven!
There was never a worse statement written, because right now I felt as if I’d been dragged to hell—a deep, burning, nasty pit of hell that I could see no way out of.
Quickly I opened a dull email about insurance premiums and read the details, willing my eyes not to fill. It was sweet of Rachel, but how could I be her friend when she would only remind me of what I’d had and then lost?
With effort I pushed Rachel’s words from my mind. I could revisit them later in the privacy of my flat where crying or throwing something at the wall wouldn’t be an issue.
In a flurry of activity, I read through a dozen emails and replied to them all.
“You ready?”
I glanced up.
Gareth was at my door again, pointing at his watch. “For the ten o’clock announcement,” he said, widening his eyes as if I was being completely daft not to remember.
“Oh, of course, yes.” I stood quickly and grabbed my file. I had a couple of things to go through with Derek if he was going to be in the office one last time.
We took the elevator to the fourth floor, Gareth chatting about a new iPod he’d picked up in the sales and all the great songs he’d downloaded. It was an enormous effort in my miserable condition to mumble appropriate upbeat responses.
Stepping out of the elevator, I had a sudden panic as I remembered Shane saying he’d bumped into Derek when he’d been emptying the condom machine.
Oh god, Derek knows we slept together.
How would I face him? My cheeks flushed and my clothes suddenly felt too tight. Gareth was raving on about Lady Gaga while I wanted the floor to swallow me up.
We approached the office and I knew I had no choice, I had to go and sit at that long oval desk and listen as the next branch manager was announced, regardless of what my old boss knew of my sex life.
I swallowed tightly and braced my spine. I was twenty-three, so what if I’d had sex with a gorgeous guy? That’s what twenty-three-year-olds did. Tilting my chin, I tried to feel brave. Who was I kidding, brave had never been my forte.
Gareth politely held open the large wooden door but frowned as I brushed past him. “You okay? You look a bit pale.”
“Er, yes, fine.” Nausea clenched my guts. I knew without looking in a mirror there was no blood in my face. This was going to be excruciating. A bit like confessing to my dad that I’d had wild, wanton sex with a man I barely knew.
Gareth, obviously not convinced of my state of health, stepped ahead and pulled out my chair. He still looked worried. As I sat down he tucked it in for me. I placed my folder on the table and looked around the room.
My breath caught in my throat, the nausea in my stomach swirled. If I’d been pale before, now I felt positively ghostly. For there, at the top of the table, in front of the whiteboard, sat not just Derek, but also Shane bloody Galloway.
As my heart rate rocketed I heard my own gasp. Quickly I bit down on my bottom lip.
He wore a pristine charcoal suit, a pale-blue shirt and a navy-and-white-striped tie. His hair was neat, it had been trimmed, and he was clean shaven. Well, almost. He still sported a little dark stubble over his top lip and around his chin.
His hands were resting on the table, fingers splayed, and his blacker-than-black gaze was directed, unblinking, at me.
“Coffee?” Gareth asked, his shoulder touching mine as he poured without waiting for an answer.
“Er, yes,” I managed, though it felt as if my mouth and throat were full of cotton wool.
What the hell is Shane doing here?
I tore my gaze from his. How was I supposed to hold it together when he was sitting there looking like every one of my fantasies and desires rolled into one hot specimen of a man?
Bastard.
Dere
k started talking about his retirement plans. Gareth added a heaped spoon of sugar to my coffee and stirred. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Shane add two to his. I couldn’t look at him directly. I feared my heart wouldn’t hold out. He was so painfully gorgeous and no longer mine to touch and hold.
I took a sip of coffee as Gareth and Derek had a conversation about marketing strategy that went over my head. My eyes actually physically stung, my chest ached. I glanced up. Shane was still staring at me, his brows pulled low as he spun a ball-point pen around his fingers.
I crossed my legs beneath the table. My knee jolted into Gareth’s. He paused in what he was saying and glanced at me.
“Sorry,” I mouthed. I had to get out of there. I was going to faint or vomit or run over and poke Shane’s damn silver pen up his nose, up his ass or anywhere else I could shove it.
Oh god, the pen.
The memory of him holding a pen like that one at my throat overwhelmed me. I could still hear him whispering dirty, hot words into my ear as he captured me in the darkness. For a second I was back there, in the hotel room, his arms tight around me, his breaths hard and fast, as excited as I was about our game. I shut my eyes but that only served to remind me of the sudden toss onto the bed and the subsequent tying up of my limbs. I squirmed on my chair, my pussy clenching at the memory of the torment he’d expertly put me through. It had been so sexy, so frustrating, and so completely wild when we’d finally come together. And the words, the words I’d shouted just before I came.
I love you so much. I want to be yours…forever…please, let me come.
Those damn words were still the truth, as I’d known they would be even before I’d uttered them.
“Ashley, I’m sure that will be fine with you, won’t it?” Derek asked.
“I, um, what?” Drawn from my erotic memories, I refocused on the end of the table. Derek was smiling at me expectantly.
“To help Shane, as he settles in.”
“But…” I glanced at Gareth, hoping for help. He raised his brows at me. “But I—”
“Ashley, Shane will need all the information you have on prospective customers and past clients, particularly industry. I’d be grateful if you would go through it with him as soon as possible.”