She nodded, her gaze still wide. ‘Yes, I would.’ Her throat worked as she swallowed. ‘It’s not like that with everyone?’
‘No. No it’s not.’
We stared at each other for a long moment and I could feel something thickening in the air between us. Something that really shouldn’t have been there.
And it was clear she felt it too, because she suddenly looked down at my chest again. ‘Why me then?’ The question came out sharply, as if she hadn’t meant to say it. ‘Why is it different with me?’
‘I think because you’re my friend and we have a level of trust in each other already.’
‘So...the other women this has happened with... You had the same level of trust with them?’ That sharp note was still in her voice, as if the idea of other women bothered her. Almost as if she was...jealous. Which was odd, because she’d never been jealous before.
You’ve never slept with her before.
Another thread of emotion twisted inside me and I didn’t like it. Complications. Christ, if I needed a reminder of why this whole thing had been a bad idea then here it was.
‘Those other women are in the past.’ I reached to take her chin in my hand, to tilt her head back so I could see what was in her eyes. ‘You’re the one in my bed right now.’
‘Yeah. Yeah, I know.’ She pulled away before I had a chance to take hold of her, tugging her hand out from under mine and turning away. ‘You know, I didn’t have breakfast and I should really have something to eat.’
Then, before I could stop her, she’d slipped off the bed and headed out the door.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Freya
AS SOON AS I went back into the living area of the suite, belting the robe I’d grabbed to wear around me again, I knew I’d made a mistake. I’d succumbed to a stupid burst of jealousy about the other women Everett had gotten his ‘high’—or whatever the hell it was—with.
It was dumb. I knew I was special to him. I knew it. I was his friend and that meant a lot. But...somehow, knowing he’d felt that high with other people, knowing he’d had that experience with someone else...
I don’t know. I guess I wanted to be even more special. I wanted him to have it with only me. I had lots of other things he shared only with me—that mention about his evil old man, for example—so why not this? But saying that to him would make what had happened to us into something more than it was. And we weren’t doing that.
Five days. That was all, and hell, that was fine by me. More than fine. The moment he’d pulled me to him this morning, all hot, sexy authority and dominance, I knew I wanted more. That one night wasn’t enough to explore what we’d discovered. And doing this again over the five days I was in London, before I left for home and Tiffany’s stupid wedding...yeah, that was perfect.
So, no more making a big deal about the sex. And no more getting jealous or possessive, right?
Yes. Right. I’d enjoy what we had here and now and once I left we’d both draw a line under it like he’d said.
In the meantime, breakfast.
The food had cooled, but I didn’t care. I got myself a plate of bacon, scrambled eggs and some pancakes, then I sat down at the table and started to eat.
Everett wandered out a few moments later, wearing jeans and nothing else, which was more than okay by me, though I preferred him naked.
He was frowning, giving me a gauging look, and I knew if he asked me what was wrong yet again I’d probably scream. I didn’t want to have to explain my reaction to the thought of those women. I didn’t want to have to admit to him that I was jealous. Because then everything would become a big deal and that was not what this was about.
So, instead, I swallowed my mouthful and said, to pre-empt him, ‘Hey, so I’m not in London all that long and I’d sort of planned to do some sightseeing. Go and see the Tower of London, Big Ben, Buckingham Palace—all that stuff.’
It wasn’t a lie. I had wanted to go and do all that stuff and I still did. I also could use a break and some fresh air to calm myself down, get rid of the sex hormones clouding my brain with stupid things like jealousy and wanting to be special to him in some way.
Plus, maybe it would be good for us both to put on some clothes and be just friends again for a while.
He stood there watching me, rubbing at his chin with one hand, the other buried in his jeans pocket. He had some golden morning beard running along his jaw and it looked good on him, made him look even more like a Viking than normal—a disreputable one—and I wanted to touch it, to see if it felt as soft as it looked. I also wanted to touch him, to run my fingers over his golden skin, trace the muscles of his powerful chest and stomach...with my tongue...
No, bad Freya. I wanted to do some sightseeing and that was sightseeing of the city, not yet more of Everett’s glorious body.
I tore my gaze away from him and shovelled some more bacon into my mouth.
‘Sightseeing,’ he echoed, as if the word didn’t mean anything to him.
‘Yeah, you know. As in seeing the sights. Doing touristy stuff.’
There was a silence.
Then he came over to the table and pulled out one of the chairs where he’d been sitting before, sitting down fluidly in it, his long legs stretched out before him. His blue gaze swept speculatively over me.
I held up a hand. ‘Don’t do it.’
One fair brow arched. ‘Don’t do what?’
‘Do that Dom thing. Looking at me like you’re trying to read my mind.’
Instantly he frowned. ‘I wasn’t.’
‘Yes, you were. I don’t want to talk about anything, E. I said I wanted more and so that’s what we’re doing. But I’m in London and I don’t want to spend all of it in bed, okay? So stop analysing my every reaction.’
He said nothing, the look on his face unreadable. And for a second tension gathered in the air between us the way it had before, and I knew that all I’d need to do was throw out a challenge and we’d end up back in bed again.
But that wouldn’t get me seeing the sights of London and right now I needed out of this hotel room. So I didn’t throw out a challenge. I ate some of my pancakes instead.
Eventually, Everett let out a breath. ‘Okay, sightseeing it is. I’ve got a few things organised for you anyway.’
I felt the usual combination of irritation and pleasure that always went through me whenever Everett ‘organised a few things’. He was a thoughtful guy, and often did things to help me out. But it was always a double-edged sword. I liked that he thought of me, yet I preferred to handle things myself. Especially after Aunt Helen used to make such a big deal of it. ‘You’re a big, strong girl,’ she’d tell me whenever I asked her for something. ‘You should be able to handle it yourself.’
And so I had. And I continued to do so. And though I might have needed Everett’s help with the orgasm stuff, I could handle looking around London on my own.
‘Thanks,’ I said, ‘but you know you didn’t need to do that. I was planning on having a look around myself.’
A muscle flicked in his impressive jaw, a subtle tension gathering around him, and when he spoke his voice was gritty with irritation. ‘Can’t you let me do just one fucking thing for you?’
I blinked at him, surprise washing over me. He’d never got angry with me when I refused his help before. Never even got irritated. He would simply shrug one of those impressive shoulders and say stuff like ‘Well, the offer’s there’. He’d never seemed bothered one way or the other.
But he was definitely bothered now. Which in turn bothered me.
I put my fork down. ‘Hey, I didn’t ask you to organise anything. I was happy to look around on my own.’
‘Yeah, you’re always happy to look around on your own. You never want anyone to do a single fucking thing for you.’ He put his hands on the arms of the chair and shoved it back for
cefully as he stood up. ‘Fine. We’ll do it your way.’
Then, before I had a chance to reply, he strode from the room.
I watched him go, open-mouthed, shocked. He’d never before let me know that my insistence on standing on my own two feet bothered him. Never.
But shit. What did he expect? I couldn’t go running to him every time I needed something. He was very generous, I knew that. And he always wanted to help.
So why don’t you let him?
I frowned, because I had no answer to that. I just didn’t let him. He’d offered me money and support and all kinds of things over the years and I’d never accepted any of it—well, definitely not the money anyway.
The business was mine to deal with and I wanted to deal with it my way. It was the only thing I had that was wholly mine, the one place in the world where I felt at home and I didn’t want to be reliant on anyone else.
Not the way I’d been reliant on my aunt and uncle after my mother had died. Coming into their house with nothing, knowing my aunt in particular didn’t want me there, even though Mom was her sister. Knowing that if Mom hadn’t been killed, they wouldn’t have had a grief-stricken eight-year-old to bring up, because my dad was long since out of the picture.
But... Everett didn’t know that, did he? I’d never talked in any great detail about growing up with my aunt and uncle, though he’d picked up on quite a bit.
Perhaps he should know why you’re being a jerk? Especially after what he told you just before.
Yeah, when I’d asked him about what he got out of ordering women around and taking charge. Because I’d been curious. It hadn’t surprised me when he’d talked about control, especially in relation to his dad. Though Everett was nothing like his dad and never would be. I hadn’t been surprised when he’d mentioned that having control was less about the power he had over other people and more about giving them what they really wanted. Of course he’d see it in terms of giving to people, about helping them, because that was what Everett had always been about.
And he’s always offering to help you and you keep refusing.
Yeah, but he’d never said it bothered him before, so where did he get off suddenly being all angry at me about it?
Annoyed with him and feeling guilty for being annoyed at him, the pancake I was chewing on suddenly didn’t taste very good.
Come on, he was trying to do something nice and you flung it back in his face.
That was true. And then I’d snapped at him when he’d been irritable about it. Perhaps I needed to go and explain my position to him, so he understood. Hell, maybe I could even let him do whatever things he had ‘organised’ for me. It wasn’t a big deal and it would make him happy, so why not?
Irritated with myself, I got up from the table and went to find him.
He was in the bedroom and he must have had a lightning-fast shower because he had a towel wrapped around him and his golden skin was glistening with moisture.
God, he was gorgeous.
I couldn’t help simply standing there to watch him as he leaned down to pick up some underwear that he had on the bed, the towel dropping from his hips to reveal his magnificent naked body.
Leaning against the doorway, I tried to moisten my suddenly dry mouth and find my voice. ‘Hey...uh... I didn’t mean to snap at you before. I’m sorry.’
He gave me one searing blue glance, then turned away, beginning to dress.
There was a thick silence.
Oh, yeah, I’d really offended him, hadn’t I? Shit.
‘I didn’t know it bothered you so much that I didn’t accept your help,’ I said quickly, hoping it didn’t sound defensive. ‘You should have told me.’
Stepping into his jeans, he tugged them on, doing up his zipper. ‘It’s not your problem.’
‘Well, you’ve kind of made it my problem now.’ I swallowed. ‘I don’t want to upset you, E.’
He turned to pick up the dark blue T-shirt that was lying on the bed. ‘I’m not upset.’
I snorted. ‘Now who’s talking bullshit?’
He went still, his back to me. Then he turned abruptly, and there was something fierce burning in his blue eyes. ‘I’ve got all this fucking money. And if I can’t help anyone with it, then what’s the fucking point of it? What’s the fucking point of any of it?’
Surprise rippled through me. I’d never thought that much about his money, about him as a billionaire. I mean, I knew he was loaded and I knew he worked hard for it. But I hadn’t thought about what he did with that money, other than donate to charitable foundations and stuff, plus helping out worthy causes in our small town.
I never thought he’d have definite feelings about that money either.
Are you sure this is just about the money?
Good question.
Frowning, I folded my arms. ‘What has helping me got to do with “all this fucking money”?’
He ignored that, staring at me, an expression I couldn’t interpret on his face. ‘Why won’t you let me help you?’
An uncomfortable feeling shifted inside my chest and I was conscious of the wood of the doorframe digging into my shoulder. I didn’t really want to talk about this, but it was probably something he should know, given how much it was pissing him off.
Sex is really dealing out massive truth bombs all over the place, huh?
Oh, that was crap. Telling him this had nothing to do with the sex. Nothing.
‘I don’t know,’ I said. ‘I think it’s got something to do with losing Mom. With having to go and live with Aunt Helen, and having to rely on them. And I was so different to them. Not just physically, but in other things as well. My cousins were into girly stuff and I was more interested in cars and fixing things.’ I folded my arms, not sure why I was finding this difficult to talk about. ‘I had to be given things. And my aunt always kind of made a big deal out of having to buy me clothes, and stuff I needed for school. Not in a bad way, just...in a way that made me not want to ask her for things.’ I bit my lip and looked away from him, the way he was looking at me making me feel weirdly exposed. ‘I didn’t like mentioning when I grew out of my clothes because she always made some comment about how big I was getting and how tall, and how expensive it was to have to get me new clothes all the time.’
‘So that’s why you kept wearing those sneakers that were way too small for you and jeans that were always too short?’
Oh, God. He’d seen that? How embarrassing.
I glanced away again. ‘I didn’t want to tell her.’
‘Because you wanted her to notice, right?’
I could feel my face getting hot. ‘No, of course not.’
‘And the more she didn’t notice, the more you wore clothes that were too small, shoving it in her face.’
He’s right. You were punishing her for that.
I kept my gaze on the windows behind him. ‘How do you know?’
‘Because I noticed,’ he said. ‘I noticed everything about you, Freya.’
My cheeks burned and I kept staring at the city glittering in the sunlight beyond the glass. I didn’t know why I felt so weird about the fact that he’d noticed my stubborn rebellions. Perhaps because it had felt petty. Aunt Helen hadn’t had to take me in after Mom’s death, yet she had, saving me from going into the foster system.
But still. I’d got a certain satisfaction out of seeing her eventually take notice of the fact that my T-shirts were way too tight and my jeans too short. That I winced when I walked because my feet hurt. She’d huff, irritated, and then make noise about having to buy me more and what a shame it was that I couldn’t get hand-me-downs from her girls because I was too big.
‘Yeah, well,’ I said, deciding this conversation needed to get back on track. ‘Me not wanting to accept help wasn’t to do with you, okay? It was my deal. Plus...the garage is mine. It’s kind of the o
nly thing that really is and I didn’t want anyone coming in and taking over.’
‘I wasn’t taking over. I was only offering you some financial help.’
‘Sure.’ I glanced at him again. ‘But you’re a take-charge kind of guy, E. So forgive me if I was trying to protect myself from that.’
‘You don’t want to be protected from it,’ he shot back, staring hard at me. ‘You like it. And you’re strong enough to push back if it’s a problem for you.’
He’s not wrong.
No, he wasn’t. Damn him. I really liked it in the bedroom after all.
Shifting restlessly yet again, I couldn’t work out why this conversation felt so difficult when it was supposed to be about him, not me. Which, on reflection, was probably why this conversation was difficult. ‘Look, I just wanted to explain why I didn’t want you to organise sightseeing stuff for me. And to say sorry. And also that if you had organised a few touristy things for me—’ I steeled myself and met his relentless blue stare ‘—then I’d like to take you up on them.’
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Everett
I STARED AT FREYA, my T-shirt still gripped in one hand, forgotten about.
Hell, was this her actually accepting something I’d done for her for a change? She’d accepted my help the night before about the orgasm stuff, but then she was the one who’d come to me.
This was different. This was about me offering, wanting to do something for her, and her refusing, the way she always did.
It shouldn’t have affected me the way it had out there in the living area. Sure, I found it frustrating normally, but she was right. I’d never told her how much it bothered me. Mainly because I didn’t want it to bother me.
Yet it had really fucking bothered me just before and, for some reason, my patience with it had just snapped.
Nothing at all to do with the fact that you crossed the line and started screwing her.
I shoved that thought away. Sex had nothing to do with this. It wasn’t supposed to have any impact on our friendship and I wouldn’t let it.
Sexy Beast--A Sexy Billionaire Romance Page 11