“Oh Adrien,” I wail.
He clutches and controls my butt, swinging me around to the wall. My thighs hold onto his fiercely lashing waist, and my arms embrace his head. He groans into my shoulder as he buffs me up and down the wall, again and again and again.
“God, you’re fucking special.” He presses his head on mine, gazing with greedy eyes.
It’s happening, whether I want it to or not. I have no influence. He already knows how my body works. I’m far too weak. I cry out with closed eyes. Whoa, I’m still going, throbbing all over for him. He pounds between my legs as I weep onto his erection. Shit, he’s amazing at this.
Injecting me with one final strike, he slows to a stop, rumbling heavy in satisfaction on my shoulder. I keep my legs tightly enveloped around him as I continue to come.
“Mr Knight.... Mr Knight.” Someone is tapping on the fucking door.
Oh shit. Who the hell is that? Have we just performed audible porn for the crew? I glare at Adrien and he laughs at my flapping reaction. But I don’t think this is funny at all.
“Chrissy, thank you. Be out in a minute,” Adrien says in a high tone, pulling out of me with a kiss.
“This is so embarrassing,” I hiss, frantically looking for my jeans.
“Well, it was superb for me.”
I roll my eyes at him. “Yes. But this bit isn’t good. Oh, you know what I mean.”
I spot my jeans in the shower and quickly swoop them up. I thread them up my legs and hula into them. Adrien fastens his zipper as he stands before me.
“Hey.” He pulls on my waist. “Welcome to the club.” He grins wickedly.
Chapter 14
Elizabeth
Our rental car, a black Jeep Cherokee, was waiting for us outside the VIP terminal. Even our bags had been loaded into the boot. We left the M90 over an hour ago, and are on route to Killiecrankie via the A9.
The roads are traffic free as I sit enjoying the night time scene through the fine snow. The landscape is foreign to me: hilly, forever green pines, and farmland. There’s not a concrete tower block in sight, and the only lights I see, emit from the odd farmhouse or quaint cottage we pass by.
I’m curled up on the tanned leather seat, feet up and cosy with no boots on, wiggling my toes in my fluffy winter socks. I stare as Adrien pays close attention to the country road ahead. I adore the way he concentrates. Eyes focused, jaw chomping down every now and then, and the way he panics a little when he sees a road sign that doesn’t correspond with the satnav. I could happily watch him for hours. His eyes flash to me briefly, then he turns back to the road.
“You’ve not asked yet,” he says. “How long before we get there. You’re too quiet. What are you thinking?”
I hum and stretch out my spine, before relaxing back into the seat. I’m not going to boost his ego and tell him he’s been candy on my eyes for the last hour. How I’m losing grip of all my faculties, and at this present time my world would be complete if we could be like this forever. Hell no, even I’m fully aware I need to rein in my hormones. This thing between us has been wonderful, but it has also been fast. I need to get to know everything about this man. Not just how he performs sexually.
“Nothing much,” I reply in a long breath.
“Are you having dirty thoughts, Elizabeth?” He beams, cocky. “I don’t mind if you’re reminiscing about our in-flight fuck. I know I am.”
I reel my pupils. He’s just twisted my rational, decent, clean way of thinking, back to, I want to jump your bones Mr Sex god.
“Actually, I was thinking about how I’m going to find the time to complete my dissertation before the holidays end.” I snigger silently.
His brow crumples at me, unsure whether I’m being serious. I remain silent and conservative as he looks back to the road, releasing a deep hum.
We journey down a dark country lane. It’s narrow and the ride is bumpy. Adrien’s head angles up as we turn left, to arrive at a set of huge double wrote iron gates with an intercom on the wall. He leans over, opens the glovebox, and takes out a key fob.
“Here we are.” He swipes the fob over a screen and the large gates begin to slowly part.
The headlights beam down a path between an avenue of bare twisty oak trees, and the crunch of the fresh gravel under the wheels is loud. Now I’m sitting on the edge of my seat, watching to the very end as a grandiose building comes into sight. My eyes widen. Adrien also owns a freaking stunning stately home. I puff out as the lights of the car voyage up, illuminating the brickwork. I hold a breath, peering up at a fairy tale like tower.
“This... is yours?” I utter, trying to shut my gaping mouth as he sniggers at my infantile reaction.
“It’s a new build,” he says coolly. “It’s taken a year of phone calls from New York, six different architects, a ton of emails, plans, and pictures. It’s not easy building a house when you’re thousands of miles away.”
“It looks old.”
He stops the car in front of a gothic bay window and shuts off the engine. “I wanted it to look as though it had been here for centuries. To fit in with the surroundings.” He unclips his seatbelt.
I open the car door keenly, forgetting I don’t have my boots on. I quickly pull them out and up over my calves, as Adrien walks to the boot to take out my case. He carries it under a gothic stone archway above a solid panel medieval style door. I hurry to his side, anticipating the reveal. I can’t wait to see what’s inside.
He opens the heavy door and flicks on the lights. The first thing that hits me is that the entire back of the building is all glass. It’s modern, like the windows at The Shard. The whole space is open-plan, with black solid parquet wooden floors throughout. There is a kitchen with bright white cupboards and black granite worktops. It’s very similar to the one in his penthouse, but this one is much bigger with spotlights reflecting on the black brick 3D style tiles. There are six white moulded stools under a long rectangular kitchen island, which houses an inbuilt sink. And the stainless steel fridge, well, it’s a monster.
I shuffle in front of Adrien, taking in yet more of the grandeur. Before me there’s a metal and glass staircase, with a balcony that overlooks the entrance. To my right there’s a lounge area, with a solid off-white ornate fire surround, and a sumptuous charcoal corner couch that could easily seat seven.
I wander in further admiring the stylish deco, then turn to Adrien who is watching me drool over his second pad. He has taste. Superb taste.
“This place must have cost you a fortune.”
“It’s not about the cost.”
He places my bag before the staircase and approaches. He moves with a swagger in his hips, slow and sexy. Dirty dark thoughts of that jet plane are now drowning my concentration as he walks by me, and I have to take a subtle step to the side to avoid him.
“I’ll make good money on it.” He bends over to turn on the fire. “I have good contacts, and everything used to build this place was purchased at trade price.” He makes his way into the kitchen.
“Do you stay here alone?”
I watch as he fixes himself a whiskey, then pours a small glass of wine. I arch a little and squint, watching as he takes one of those silly tiny tonic bottles out from the fridge.
“I have a housekeeper slash caretaker looking after the place.” He walks by me and gestures for me to sit on the sofa. “I’ve given her the week off. Christmas brings the good out in me I suppose. Besides, this is my first time staying here.”
“Really,” I frown.
“Yep. I plan on selling within the year.”
“Why?”
He laughs at me. “It’s what I do, Elizabeth.”
“Oh.” That’s me coming across as dumb. He’s in the real-estate business Liz, duh.
I sit down beside him and sink right back. He hands me the wine, then waves the tonic at me.
“I don’t need that stuff. I don’t lack in anything. I’m fine. I had my annual health check last month. Bloods, pee, the lot
was tested, and I’m in good health.”
“It’s just a boost to keep you energised,” he says. “I can’t force it down your throat.”
He seems annoyed that I don’t want it, sipping his whiskey with a shrug. He sets the tonic down on the cushion between us.
“So, I’m your red?” I ask, hoping to lighten him up. “Has any other lady in your life had to sign one of those silly boy contracts? And how do I get out of it?” I joke.
“Upfront aren’t you.” He smiles deviously. “Well, there was one, back in the States.” He goes quiet.
“And?” Don’t be jealous now Liz.
“Well.” His pupils move up, clearly not liking this topic. “Let’s just say she was incompatible.” He looks down at the tonic then back to me. “Never got to the signing stage because she couldn’t keep up with my demands.”
“And me, am I compatible?” I feel it coming on again, that sweltering desire.
He stares soundless with a sparkle in his eyes, making me wait for his answer. He likes it, tantalising me with his evocative grin.
“You will do.” My view drifts away from him briefly, pissed-off and unsure whether he meant that. “Wow, that was easy.” He sniggers.
“What was easy... me?” I grumble. “Yeah, well, I guess I have given you too much too soon. I was never like this before.”
“It was easy to draw out your lack of self-worth. Fuck, I’ve never wanted anyone like you before, so stop exhausting yourself with these stupid self-condemning and confidence issues. If you want something, then take it.”
“And I guess you get whatever you want.” I take a sip of wine, circling my eyes. “And I’m not exhausting myself,” I say in a sigh. “I just don’t get why you like me.” I gaze coyly. “I’m sure there are plenty of high-class girls out there who’d have more in common with you. I mean all this. And the plane.”
His jawline tautens. He’s taken aback by my candour. God, have I just blown this? He probably now sees me as an ungrateful bitch.
“You think I’m pompous?”
“No,” I squeal, uncomfortable. “I mean, you don’t need to go to all this trouble for me.”
“Hmm, trouble,” he says in a low tone. “Nothing is a trouble when it comes to you, Elizabeth. This place, it’s just bricks and glass. Yes, I have money. I have too much money. But that counts for nothing if you don’t feel alive, and I’ve been dead for far too long. Until you hobbled into Churchill’s in those absurd red shoes,” he says warmly.
A content ray grows across my lips. He’s so sincere with his words. A man has never spoken to me in such a way. Nathan’s, ‘give it to me love,’ frankly does not compare with the smooth words of Adrien Knight. What did Cate describe me as, soppy? Well yes, right now I’m as squidgy as a sponge.
He stands up and extends his hand out to me. “Come, I’ll give you the tour.”
I course my fingers over his velvet skin, and lock them around his palm as I stand up. I let out a lengthy sigh, because I don’t want to let him go. He looks down at me, his pupils amplified to hide that extreme copper. I inhale and release my hold, before he has to peel me away.
Crap, I’m being clingy. I have to stop that.
I follow him. My vision is not absorbing my surroundings, but his toned backside and the way he holds his shoulders. He even walks in a poised spellbinding motion.
We go through a door in the kitchen. It’s cool and there’s a buzzing sound, like white noise. The kind of sound that makes you dizzy and sick if exposed to for long periods. Finally, I take my eyes away from his supple butt cheeks, to see wine-racks from floor to ceiling, every hole containing a bottle. My word, there’s enough alcohol in here to get the whole of Killiecrankie merry. To my left side there are hundreds of wine bottles, and to my right an array of rare whiskeys and spirits. I pull out a dusty bottle. It’s cream and gold with the embossed words, Chivas Regal Royal Salute 50, on the label.
“So, this is like your stamp collection.” I giggle.
He swiftly snatches the bottle out of my hand, obviously thinking I may drop it. “This is a ten-thousand dollar bottle of whiskey.” He slides it away. “I did have two. When we completed this house, I gave one to my site manager as a thank you.”
That is overly generous. I do get the odd perk of a free muffin at work, or maybe a one pound tip. But I bet that bottle went straight onto eBay. It’s only what any normal person would do.
I look next to the ten-thousand dollar bottle, and notice several bottles of Jack Daniels.
“Yes.” He smiles at me. “My good stuff.” He makes his way back into the kitchen.
I close the door as he walks to the glass wall at the back of the house. He flicks on a switch to ignite a stunning enclosed garden area outside. There’s not one flower in sight. It’s all box shrubs, grey brick, with an unusual copper bowl water feature in the centre.
“Not green fingered then?” I ask.
He turns off the lights then moves toward the staircase. “Not in the slightest.”
“So... how many bedrooms do you have?” What the hell was that Liz? Flirting!
He grins, holding the brushed steel handrail, and begins to climb up the stairs without answering my question. I eagerly follow, again not thinking straight.
We cross the glass balcony and enter a corridor. The walls are a deep dusky lilac colour. There are four black doors on my left, four on my right, and one straight ahead. He shows me several of these rooms. All have queen size beds and are decorated to a high standard. And each one has a luxury en-suite bathroom.
I walk deliberately slow in a risqué way, right to the very end, while brushing my fingers across the wall. I want him to stare. I want to tease. I pout and stand for a few seconds before the last door. For some reason it has me nervous. I place my hand around the gold knob and twist, but it’s locked. This is a tour, so why is this room not free to view?
“Elizabeth,” Adrien calls me from the first room in a splintering tone.
“What’s behind this door; another bedroom?” I have to ask, Sara’s warning is dancing around inside my skull.
“It’s not finished, yet,” he says sharply, and for the first time he seems uncomfortable. “Elizabeth, you do know about the cat and curiosity,” he stalks closer to me.
He tugs on my midriff, his hand sweeping up my backbone to fiddle with my hair. He kisses me faintly, then pulls away with austere, do as you’re told eyes.
“It well and truly fucked that cat up.” He blinks slowly. “First, you need to come with me. I require your assistance.” He opens a door to his right.
“Assistance in what exactly?” The words and thoughts nearly strangle me.
“Oh, I think you know.” He guides me into the bedroom.
Could this not get any better? He’s doing his best to make me feel emotions I told myself not to for a long time. I’ve always known that men are mostly after one thing. Not that I’m frigid. I do have urges, just not acted on them. Take Nathan for instance. He will follow his dick to any short skirt, cleavage, or bit of leg. I’m not saying that I want commitment. But jeez, sex that blows your mind is a must. And I’m getting that with Adrien... and more.
Chapter 15
Elizabeth
He once told me he didn’t need much sleep, and boy he was being serious. His outstanding stamina is that of an Olympian. He has given me the best night of my life, and I bet I’m now familiar with nearly all Kama Sutra positions.
Sprawled out in his bed with my eyes closed, I search for him with my fingertips, and the empty sheets crinkle up into the palm of my hand. I open my heavy eyelids, to see he’s not beside me. Using my elbows I sit upright, clearing my messy hair out of my face, wondering where my master has gone with my Sunday morning wake-up call.
With an exhilarated sleepy grin, I shuffle to the edge of the bed. I stand with a stretch and swathe the bed sheet around my back, trudging to the blackout curtains. With one hand holding the sheet, I tweak the curtain a little to see a li
ght dusting of snowfall outside. My eyes wrinkle up. It’s far too bright for me yet.
I swoop up Adrien’s shirt from the black leather chesterfield chair, letting the bed sheet fall to the floor. I tug his fragrance over my shoulders, sniffing his collar jubilantly, making my way out into the hallway.
Dammit, that curiosity has caught me again. I’m at the top of the stairs and my eyes fall back onto that locked door at the very end of the hall. I will see what’s in there before this trip is over. It’s going to play on my mind when we get back if I don’t.
With a bounce in my step I descend the stairs, picking up a delicious odour. I move by the front door and see Adrien in the kitchen. Hell, he looks hot today, wearing only his grey joggers, pottering around in his bare feet. His naked torso has made my morning already.
“Hey.” He smiles.
My forehead crumples, perplexed. He’s wearing shades and making me breakfast. It’s quite a bizarre thing to witness. But then he does suffer migraines. Perhaps we’re both paying for last night’s love fest. He has a headache, and I’m being punished with sore weakened muscles.
I walk across to him with a grin from lobe to lobe as he ogles me, shaking a copper frying pan.
“Morning.” My smile turns into a cavernous yawn. Not at all attractive.
“You’re very pleasing on the eye in that shirt.” He places the pan back on the smallest ring of an eight ring hob. “I’ve plenty of them to choose from.” His eyes goggle over the rim of his shades.
I chuckle as he slides a large mug of coffee before me, and I need it. I wrap my hands around the heat, trying not to turn to mush over my unspoilt view of him.
“Thanks.” I take a sip. “Have you taken anything for that?” I ask, referring to his headache. “A cool towel helps. And maybe some sleep.”
He smiles taking off the shades, then curves over to push against the granite so his physique becomes tense. Okay, his arms, his chest, and abdomen, have now totally thrown me off course.
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