I bounce up the stairs and turn and give Elliot a wave; he smiles and gives me a playful salute.
I smile and push the door open. “Hey,” I call to Rebecca.
She comes rushing out of her room. “Oh my God, what happened?” She looks at her watch. “You’re only getting home now? Holy crap, I need all the details.”
“Well . . .” I give her a coy smile and shrug. “It went well . . . I think.”
“What happened?” She lies along the back of the couch.
“We went to dinner and ate in a private dining room.”
“Private dining?”
“Then we went back to his house and it’s a wonder that I can walk.”
Her eyes widen. “You had sex? You never fuck on first dates.”
“I know, but damn it, I should. Because I had the best night ever.”
She smiles dreamily. “Are you seeing him again?”
“Uh-huh.”
“When?”
“He’s picking me up in three hours, actually.”
“Ooh, date the next day, he is keen.”
“We’re going away for a week.”
“What?” She sits up so fast that she overbalances and falls over the back of the couch, lands spectacularly on the ground, and smashes her elbow. “Oww.”
“Oh my God, are you okay?” I rush to her side and help her up. She rubs her elbow. “That fucking hurt.”
I chuckle as I help her to her feet. “Pretty funny, but.”
“You’re going away with him?” she asks, horrified.
“Yeah, what’s that look for?”
“You don’t even know him.”
“So?”
“Are you staying in the same room? What happens when you need to take a crap?”
I open my mouth to speak but no words come out.
“What happens if you fart, or snore . . . or . . .” She throws her hands up in dismay. “Dribble in your sleep? This is a logistical nightmare, Kate. You can’t impress a man with a week-long stayover.”
I stare at her as the horrifying scenarios play in slow motion through my mind. “I didn’t think of that.”
“What happened to playing hard to get?”
“Oh, who cares.” I throw my hands up in surrender. “He made me come at dinner, I’m pretty sure there is no playing hard to get.”
Her eyes widen to saucer size. “You orgasmed at dinner?”
I wince. “Kind of.”
“How did you kind of come?”
I puff air into my cheeks as I realize how this is going to sound. “Dry-humped him while he sat on his chair.”
Rebecca’s eyes pop from her head and she slaps her hand over her mouth as I burst out laughing. “Look, I know how this sounds.”
“Do you? But do you really? You’re going to fall in love with him and he’ll lose interest because he hasn’t had to chase you . . . at all. And then you’ll be brokenhearted.”
I laugh. She’s so damn dramatic. “Or . . . we could just be having fun and using each other for sex, while spending time on a beach in the sun with some cocktails.”
She raises her eyebrows.
“Look, we’ve had the talk, I know exactly where I stand with him. He’s not looking for a relationship and neither am I,” I reply. “I just . . . I want to enjoy myself for a while without worrying about the future.”
“Since when? Last time I knew, you were searching for Mr. Right to be the father of your children.”
“Will you stop?” I snap in exasperation. “Don’t read into this, I’m not. It’s a week in the sun.” I march over to the door and open it in a rush, gesture out the front at the blizzard conditions. “Snowy London isn’t that appealing over the Christmas holiday, Rebecca. I have a week off left, and look.” I point out at the snow. “What the hell am I going to do here in this?”
She stares at me.
“It’s one week and I’m not stupid.” I march up the stairs. “It’s Elliot Miles, for fuck’s sake, as if he could break my heart.”
“You’re delusional,” she calls after me.
“And you’re a drama queen,” I call back with a roll of my eyes. I flop onto my bed. Fuck’s sake.
I lie for a moment and feel sorry for myself—hate that she isn’t excited for me.
A broad smile crosses my face . . . To hell with her, because I am.
Right. I stare at the open suitcase on my bed: what else do I need for a romantic getaway with a sex god?
Hmm. I go through my list.
Passport | check. |
Bikinis | check. |
Sunscreen | check. |
Date dresses | check. |
Lingerie | check. |
Shoes | check. |
Books | check. |
Laptop | check. |
Sweater | check. |
Toiletry bag | check. |
Phone charger | check. |
Contraceptive pills check.
Lubricant check, check, and double check. I’m so fucking sore that it’s a joke.
The man’s an animal. I smile—not that I’m complaining. It’s definitely a hurt-so-good scenario.
I stare at the suitcase for a moment while I think what else I could possibly need.
I smile and go to my closet.
Red netball dress touchdown.
An hour later, my email pings and I smile. It’s Ed—I have his notification as a different sound.
Hi Pinkie,
How are you?
What’s new?
I smile and reply:
I’m great, how was your date with the toilet cleaner?
Nerves swirl in my stomach as I see the dots. He’s typing.
Incredible.
My eyes widen and I put my hands over my mouth in surprise.
What?
I smile broadly and can hardly contain my excitement to write back.
Incredible is a strong word.
What was so good about it?
I see the dots and do a little dance on the spot. I knew he felt it too.
It’s not just me.
Her, she is . . .
There are no words for how hot this woman is.
Let’s just say it was a great night.
I’m taking her away today for a week, so I may not have internet service to email you.
I giggle out loud in excitement. Oh wow, for the first time I feel optimistic about us. Perhaps this trip will bring out more of my Edgar in Elliot.
God, I hope so.
Taking her away?
Wow.
What brought that on?
I hold my breath as I wait for his reply.
I want her to myself for a while.
I smile as I close my eyes. I want you to myself too.
I pace as I think. What will I write?
Umm . . .
She’s a lucky girl.
Have a great time, check in if you can.
oxo
Okay, speak soon.
Xoxoxo
A text sounds on my phone.
I’m out the front.
x
I smile through the window of my bedroom and see the black Bentley pull up to the curb.
A kiss at the end of his message really shouldn’t excite me as much as it does.
I take one last look around my bedroom and get the distinct feeling that I’m forgetting something, but God knows what it is.
I bounce downstairs. “Beck, I’m going,” I call.
She appears from her room and smiles as she holds her arms out. “Be safe.”
I hug her. “I will.”
“Have a great time.”
“Okay.”
“And just come home any time you want. If you aren’t getting on, bail instantly.”
I widen my eyes. “Yes, Mum. I wish Daniel was home, I wanted to see him before I go.”
“He’s out for the day.”
“Tell him I said goodbye.”
“Okay.” She opens the door and I brush past her in a rush. I feel like I’m Scarlett O’Hara escaping Alcatraz or something. I know I shouldn’t be this excited, but holy hell I am. Andrew is at the door and takes my suitcase from me.
“Thank you.” I smile.
I try to walk calmly to the car and Elliot gets out and opens the door for me. “Hello,” he says.
He’s so tall and towers above me; I go up onto my tippy toes and kiss him. “Hi.”
His hand goes to my behind as he smiles down at me. “Hello,” he repeats.
“Long time, no see,” I whisper up at him.
He chuckles and moves out of the way so I can get into the car. I glance up to see Rebecca standing in the open door watching our interaction.
Yes, I know I’m kissy . . . but he secretly thinks I’m incredible and you need to mind your own business already.
I get into the car and Elliot slides in beside me.
Andrew gets into the front seat after placing my bag in the trunk.
“Thank you, Andrew.” I smile.
He dips his head in the front seat as he pulls out onto the road. “Hello Kate, nice to see you again.”
Elliot sits back in his seat as he watches me, wearing blue jeans and a white T-shirt and runners, with a navy bomber jacket on the seat. His big blue eyes look especially piercing today . . . or that could just be my incredible rose-colored glasses.
I reach over and put my hand on his thigh and take his hand in mine. His quads are thick and muscular and I get a thrill that I can touch him like this.
He picks my hand up and kisses my fingertips and I smile goofily over at him.
“What is that look, Kathryn?” He smirks.
My eyes flick to Andrew in the front seat—I can’t say it out loud for heaven’s sake.
He raises his eyebrow in question.
“Just excited,” I whisper.
He gives me a slow, sexy smile. “Well, that makes two of us.”
My eyes flick to Andrew in the rearview mirror. Can he hear us?
I lean into Elliot. “Where are we going?” I whisper.
He smiles as he puts his arm around me and pulls me close. “It’s a surprise.”
“Does that mean you don’t know yet?”
He chuckles and kisses my temple. “Yes.”
I glance up to see Andrew’s eyes flick back to the road—he just saw that.
I snuggle in close; Elliot’s chest is broad and his strong arm is around me. His aftershave is out of this world, how does he smell so good?
“I feel like I forgot something?” I whisper.
“All you need is your birth control pills.” He smirks.
My eyes widen and flick to Andrew.
“Stop it,” Elliot mouths.
“He can hear us?” I mouth back.
“So?” Elliot raises his eyebrow. “Forget he’s there.”
Jeez, this is awkward. How do you forget someone is there listening to everything you say?
I wonder what he’s heard before . . . what I wouldn’t give to put him on the lie-detector machine for an hour. I bet that would make for some interesting listening.
My phone rings in my handbag and I dig it out. The name Daniel lights up the screen. I glance up to see that Elliot has read his name, and I go to put it back.
“Answer it,” he says.
“No, I’ll get it later.”
“Answer it,” he repeats with more force as he takes his arm off my shoulders.
Oh fuck, it’s going to look obvious if I don’t answer it now.
“Hi,” I answer with an awkward smile.
“What are you doing?” Daniel snaps.
“Ha-ha, oh hi, Daniel.” I fake a laugh. Oh crap, Elliot can hear this conversation. “I’m on my way to the airport.”
“You’re going away with him?” he barks.
I push the phone nearly halfway through my skull to try and block it so that Elliot can’t hear. “Yes, just for a few days.”
“Are you crazy?” Daniel blurts out. “That’s fucking stupid.”
Elliot’s eyes narrow as they hold mine.
I swallow the lump in my throat. “Um, crazy excited. I have to go, now is not a good time.” I fake-laugh again, oh hell on a cracker. Why are my flatmates such wet blankets?
“Don’t go, this is a bad idea,” Daniel barks.
I see the Adam’s apple in Elliot’s neck swallow as if he is clenching his jaw.
“One night with him and you’re already doing what he says. No dick is that good, Kate.”
Oh hell, I feel the blood drain from my face.
There goes the neighborhood.
Elliot glares at me and I can feel his contempt from here.
“Goodbye Daniel.”
“You can call me—”
I hang up, cutting him off.
I awkwardly stuff my phone back into my bag. Why wasn’t my phone on silent?
Well, that was just fucking great.
“Ah.” I shrug, embarrassed. “Daniel’s a bit protective.”
“And has a death wish,” Elliot mutters dryly. His attention goes to out the window.
We sit in silence as we drive along for a while. Elliot’s thoughts are on God knows what and I’m plotting ways to cut out Daniel’s tongue.
God . . . what next?
Elliot had already told me this morning that he didn’t like Daniel touching me.
Imagine what’s going to happen next time they see each other . . . And they obviously will, I live with one and am sleeping with the other.
And where the heck is this coming from? Daniel was excited for me when Elliot was chasing me. Now it’s suddenly a bad idea?
Ugh, this is a fucking disaster.
We arrive at Heathrow Airport but instead of going to the main entrance, we continue to a side street and are stopped at a checkpoint barrier.
Andrew passes out some kind of paperwork to the security guard through the window and the guard takes it back to his little station and checks it.
Elliot is silent and broody and I know Daniel has pissed him off.
It’s not my fault.
If it’s any consolation, Daniel pissed me off too.
I don’t want to say anything that Andrew might hear so I remain silent. We are ushered through the barrier and moments later are driving along a road that seems to connect to a tarmac.
I want to ask what we’re doing, but I don’t want to sound stupid. The car drives for what seems like miles and then we pull up next to a fancy-looking plane.
The car stops and Andrew gets out.
My eyes widen as I stare at the plane: it’s big and lush and looks like a jet. “This is your plane?”
“This is a Miles plane, yes.”
“How many planes do you have?”
“Three.”
“Oh . . .” I feel my stomach flutter with nerves; what do you even say to that?
It’s easy to forget that my sweet garbologist Ed is a Miles.
I mean, I know it is . . . but . . . he really doesn’t seem like the same person.
Fear runs through me—what if he isn’t?
My thoughts are interrupted as Elliot opens the car door and holds his hand out for me. “Come.”
I take his hand and climb out of the car; it’s windy and my hair blows up in the air.
The plane’s engine is noisy. Elliot leads me to the stairs and a fancy-looking stewardess and a pilot in full uniform are standing at the top.
“Good to see you, Mr. Miles,” the pilot says.
Elliot shakes both of their hands. “Thank you.”
The stewardess smiles and her eyes hold Elliot’s a little longer than needed . . . He puts his arm around my waist in a clear signal.
Hmm . . . who’s she?
He leads me through and past them . . . so no introduction of me?
I wither a little, feeling insignificant.
It’s a weird setup, no aisle. Cream leather seats in sets of two and a large room at the back—the doors are closed so I can’t see what’s in there.
One huge television is on display in a lounge area.
He opens the overhead. “You can put your handbag up here.”
“Okay.” I reach up to put it in and his hands drop to my hips as he takes it from me and places it above.
“Thanks,” I whisper.
He gestures to a seat by the window and I sink into it; he sits in the one beside me.
I feel awkward; I just got on a plane where the pilot and stewardess addressed him by name, and yet he didn’t introduce me to them.
Weird . . . and annoying.
I stare out of the window so I don’t say something.
I remind myself that nobody is supposed to know about us, and that he’s just protecting his privacy.
So why didn’t he give them a fake name for me . . . hell, call me fucking Pussy Galore for all I care.
Ugh, this shouldn’t bother me; I annoy myself.
“Can I get you anything?” the beautiful stewardess asks as her eyes linger on Elliot’s face.
“Yes.” He smiles as he sits back in his seat. “Two champagnes please.”
His eyes flick over to me. “Would you like anything else?”
“No thanks.” I fake a smile: don’t talk to me, I’m not in the mood to talk to rude people.
“That will be all, thank you,” he says.
She smiles and disappears into the little room at the front.
Elliot slides his hand up my thigh and I twist my lips—don’t say it . . . don’t say it.
He brushes his fingers between my legs as he leans over and looks out of the window.
I flick his hand off. “Stop,” I whisper.
“What’s wrong with you?”
“Nothing, but seeing as I don’t have a name it doesn’t matter anyway, does it?”
Amusement flashes across his face. “You’re annoyed I didn’t introduce you?”
“Nope.” I cross my arms and look out of the window again.
Damn straight, I’m fucking annoyed.
“I have my reasons,” he whispers.
“Clearly.” I smile sweetly. “I love being at a whim to your reasons.”
He chuckles and leans his head back against his seat as he looks at me.
“What?” I ask dryly.
“I wondered how long until Kathryn showed up.”
I tilt my chin to the sky as I stare out of the window. “Kathryn doesn’t put up with your shit, Elliot.”
“No, but she sucks my cock so well . . . so, I can forgive her.”
“Sshhh,” I whisper angrily as I look around for the stewardess. “Will you shut up?”
He leans over and nuzzles into my neck.
“Stop it,” I say. He bites me, holding my head to his, and I smile as I try to subtly get away from him.
“Promise me something,” he whispers.
“What’s that?”
“Promise me that we can have angry sex soon. I need to fuck you when you’re raging fucking angry with me.”
I laugh out loud in surprise; the man’s an idiot. “With your annoying personality, I don’t think that will be a problem, Elliot.” I take off my cardigan.
“Where’s my cute nickname from last night?” he whispers.
I twist my lips as I try to act serious. “What?”
“Ell,” he whispers.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about?”
“Although, I think it went like . . . oh Ellllllllllllll.” He moans as he simulates me having sex. “Fuck me harder, Ell, oh God yeah . . . just like that.” His eyes roll back in his head and I whip him with my cardigan.
“Shut. Up,” I whisper as I try to hold my smile. “You can talk, you moan like a fucking cow.”
He laughs out loud and pulls my head to him and kisses me. “It’s actually a prize-winning bull, get it right, Landon.” I smile against his lips and our kiss turns deeper, and then I remember the pressing point and I pull out of his grip. “Stop kissing your way out of the shit.”
“I wouldn’t dare.” He leans back again. “Although, for the record, I won that argument.”
My mouth falls open. “You did not.”
“Here you are, two glasses of champagne.” The stewardess passes them over to us; we both jerk back from each other guiltily. She puts down a tray of chocolate-coated strawberries on the table in front of us.
“Thank you.” We both smile.
“Can I get you anything else?” she asks.
“Not at this stage. Maybe a top-up after we take off,” Elliot replies as he takes my hand in my lap.
The stewardess smiles and goes back to her little room at the front.
Elliot holds his champagne in the air.
“What are we toasting?” I smile.
“The Canary Islands.”
My eyes widen. “We’re going to the Canary Islands?”
He smiles as he sips his champagne.
“Where to?” I whisper in awe as I sip my drink.
“There’s a sex club down there,” he replies casually.
I frown . . . what? Oh, hell on a cracker . . . I didn’t think this through.
“Go on,” I mutter dryly.
“Masked men tie you up and you get to watch me have sex with copious other hot women.”
I choke on my drink and cough out loud. “What?”
He slaps me on the back. “But don’t worry, if you behave, I’ll let you clean me up when I’m finished with them.”
“Are you serious?” I laugh. Thank God he’s joking. “And how will I clean you up?”
“With your tongue, of course.” He sips his drink with a mischievous smile.
I lean closer to him. “But what you failed to read on the brochure, dear Ell, was that while you were having boring sex with mediocre women”—I sip my champagne—“I’m getting tag-teamed by the huge masked men, who, I may add, are allowed to”—I pause as I think of the right wording—“do their business inside of me . . . and it is you who gets to clean up their mess . . . with your tongue.” I smile and clink my glass to his.
He winces as if getting a vivid visual and then his lip curls in disgust.
The plane begins to hurtle down the runway and I grip the armrests and close my eyes.
“You’re a dirty girl, Landon,” he whispers as the plane lifts off the ground.
“I try my best,” I reply as I hang on for dear life.
“How come they get to come inside of you and I don’t?”
“Because they’re a fantasy,” I whisper with my eyes closed. “And you’re a real-life player who has probably had sex with ten million women.”
“It’s nine and a half million, don’t get carried away.”
I laugh out loud and so does he. Our eyes hold each other’s and he picks up my hand and kisses it with an unsaid affection. It’s not forced and it doesn’t feel wrong.
Elliot Miles is fun.
I like this game we’re playing . . . although I have no idea what it’s called or whether it has any rules.
All I know is that the playing field is in the Canary Islands and I’m going to have a good week. Probably the best.
I smile as I look out of the window, but sadly, I get the feeling Elliot is going to give me the hangover of all hangovers.
The high will be worth the fallout . . . I think.
“Would you like a top-up, sir?” the stewardess asks. I never did get her name. Although I must admit, with every glass of champagne her pining eyes over Elliot get a little more annoying.
He’s taken, bitch.
Okay, he’s not taken. But he is today and . . . for the next week, so back off already.
“No thank you, Clarise. We are going to retire,” he replies casually.
“Oh.” She nods as if taken aback. “Yes, of course.” She turns. “Call me if I can be of any service.” She walks into her room and closes the door behind her.
“I will.” His eyes return to me as amusement flashes across his face.
“Not funny,” I reply, deadpan. She will never be of any service; how dare he even joke about that.
He stands and holds his hand out for me.
I frown. “What are you doing?”
“Retiring.”
“From what?”
“Here.” He drags me to my feet and pulls me to the back of the plane, and opens the double door that reveals a luxurious bedroom with a huge bed.
A bed . . . a bed . . . what’s a fucking bed doing here?
My eyes meet his and he winks.
Horror dawns.
“No,” I whisper.
He pushes me in and closes the door behind us, and then he crash-tackles me onto the bed and crawls over me. He lifts his T-shirt off over his head and throws it to the side.
His playful smile arrests me and, for a moment, I forget where I am.
Then I remember.
“What are you doing?” I whisper in a panic as I try to escape. “Stop it, get off me,” I snap. “They’re just out there.”
His lips drop to my neck and I feel his erection as it hardens up against my stomach.
“Are you fucking crazy?” I whisper. “Elliot.” I buck to try and get him off me. “You are a bona fide sex maniac,” I stammer.
He smiles sexily and stands and tears his jeans off. He throws them and they hit the back of the door; the button makes a clanging sound and I slap my hands over my eyes. “Oh. My. God . . . What the actual fuck are you doing?” I whisper.
“Giving you a membership.” He smiles as he undoes my jeans and wrestles to pull them down.
“To what?”
“The Miles High Club.” He pulls my jeans completely off.
I laugh out loud and then slap my hand over my mouth. I hold my finger to my mouth in a sshh signal.
“You’re the one making all the noise.” He pulls my shirt off over my head, twirls it around over his head like a lasso, and bucks the bed as if riding a fake bull.
I burst out laughing as I bounce beneath him. “What the fuck are you doing?”
“Getting ready to moan like a bull.” He smiles as he drops and kisses me and pulls my panties off. He inhales them deeply and then hurls them at the wall. They hit the back of the door and fall on the floor, and his lips find mine again.
I imagine the snooty stewardess walking in and finding us in a compromising position. “Elliot.” My eyes widen in horror. “We can’t have sex, they’re just out there,” I whisper in a panic. “They can hear us, and you’re fucking loud, you know?”
He puts his hand over my mouth, his mouth drops, and he sucks on my nipple. “Shut up and fuck me, Landon.”
I laugh through his fingers; my eyes are wide. “Elliot.” He bites my nipple and I buck as hard as I can as arousal begins to pump through me. I can feel the heat as it warms my blood. His tongue flutters at just the right tempo. My fear of getting caught mixed with his couldn’t-care-less factor is a heady combination.
Naughty meets nice.
He nudges my legs apart with his knees, and then, as if remembering something, he bounces off me and goes to his jeans, shuffles around in the pocket, and produces a small bottle of lube and two condoms. He holds them up and wiggles his eyebrows as if he just won the lottery.
I laugh, I can’t help it. He’s fucking adorable like this.
“Who are you and what have you done with grumpy Elliot Miles,” I whisper.
He lies back over the top of me and then in some kind of practiced move he flips us so that I am on top of him. My legs are straddled wide over his hips and he pours some lube onto his fingers and glides it between my legs.
My hands are on his broad chest as I hold myself up, his fingers exploring as he looks up at me. “He’s right here,” he whispers.
And isn’t he beautiful.
As we stare at each other, the feeling of his fingers on me, the shared arousal between us, something changes. I don’t know what it is, but it brings a flutter to my chest.
“Don’t,” he whispers. He grabs my hips and eases me down onto his hard body, slides my open lips up the length of his shaft.
“Don’t what?” I shudder. Oh . . . that feels good.
“Look at me like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like . . .” He slides into me again and his eyes roll back in his head.
I want to cut him off; I don’t want to hear what he has to say.
I know damn well how I was looking at him.
With ownership.
“Like I’m about to fuck your brains out?” I ask as I lift from his dick and slide it in deep as a distraction.
His knees rise as he takes me, overwhelmed by the sensation of our bodies locking together.
“Don’t open your mouth to say anything other than how hard you’re going to fuck me,” I whisper.
He chuckles and grabs my hip bones. “Yes ma’am.”
I smile down at him.
“What?” he grinds out.
“You sound so American when you say ‘yes ma’am.’”
“Funny that, seeing as I am a fucking American.” He lifts me up and slams me back down and I scrunch my face up to stop myself from crying out.
Oh God . . . that’s so good . . . too good.
“No.” I bend down and bite his lip. “I’m the one fucking an American.”
He chuckles and slaps my behind, with a crack as his hand connects. “Do it harder.”
We fall into a rhythm, and every now and then he lifts me too high and our skin slaps out loud.
“Sshh,” I whisper as I glance at the door. I grind down hard again, it’s quieter this way.
The feeling builds until it gets to fever pitch and I close my eyes to block him out. I can’t look down at him when I feel like this.
“Open,” he whispers.
I ignore him.
He grabs a handful of my hair and pulls me down to his face. “Open your fucking eyes and look at me while you come.”
I drag my eyes open, only millimeters from his face, and we stare at each other.
Frantic, animalistic, depraved.
He’s moving at piston pace, my body wet and open for him. He reaches up and bites my lip as he jerks violently inside of me. “Oww,” I whimper.
His hands hold me close and I shudder as I come hard.
He moves back from me and he licks his lips as if still hungry, his gaze dark and dangerous.
So different from the carefree man who brought me into this room.
Uneasiness creeps over me. Dear God, who am I sleeping with?
There are two versions of Elliot Miles.
