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I run the bath, pour in a whole load of fragrant bath cubes, put my hair into a messy topknot, and lower myself into the scented water. Mmmm … this was definitely one of my better ideas. I lean my head back against the folded towel and close my eyes.
Let’s think this thru.
I shouldn’t be so harsh on myself. First off, I’ve been in love with this guy for years. Obviously the first encounter is going to be either traumatic, disastrous, or both. It was both. So what? The worst is over. From now on I’m prepared. I’ve read the side effects warning label: This asshole is likely to break your heart.
The good thing is I now know just how hot he is and how strong he comes on and things will be different. If I just stay calm and unaffected, bit by bit he will reveal his true self and I’ll discover that he ain’t all that. Once I see that my memories of him are all flawed and he is far from perfect, I will realize that he is a hero only in my mind.
At that point I will either be put off, or better still, so totally sickened that I will wonder why I ever wasted so many years pining for him. On that happy day I will put in my notice and go on to my aunt’s house in Surrey and wait for Leah to join me for our victory backpacking tour of Europe.
Sitting here in this fragrant steam, I see clearly that I over reacted. There is nothing to worry about. Everything is under control. I’m in charge of my body and my decisions. And in a way it is good, because he has shown his hand. He tries it on with every female he meets. Slut. Manwhore. Womanizer. Prick.
So, now that I have redefined the parameters, I can relax. I wave my arms a little to circulate the hot water and exhale slowly.
‘Mmmm.’
I start to chill.
My mind wanders lazily away. I don’t check it. Whatcha gonna do? I’m in the bath. It goes to … Cash … no, not Cash, of course not Cash, just a man who looks like him. He is in bed. Between white silk sheets, his tan intense, some kind of lop-sided smile on his face. He pats the space next to him.
And I, I’m in a slinky black nightie, my hair’s freshly washed and bouncing like a shampoo advert as I walk up to him with a sexy, totally sophisticated smile. As I reach the bed, he is so eager for me he jumps me and throws me on the bed. Before I can say, ‘You called?’ he has his face between my thighs and starts feasting his heart out.
My fingers move to the hard nub between my legs. Swirl. Swirl. In the silky water. Ohhhh. Oh, Cash. Yes, Cash. Yes. Just like that. Oh, God, yes—
Suddenly everything in my head disappears with a jolt. My bathroom door slams open, and my eyes open wide. Oh Good Lord!
Cash freaking Hunter has dropped out of my fantasy and into my reality.
Chapter Four
Tori
‘What the hell are you doing in here?’ I screech, ducking down so violently water slops over the edges of the tub onto the floor. From my position where only my neck and head are visible above the soapsuds, I stare open-mouthed with a mixture of disbelief and reluctant admiration at him.
Oh my! So much gloriousness is on show. Obliques, traps, pecs, biceps, six pack. Actually, the whole works … everything is irritatingly tight, cut, evenly tanned and finished off in a gorgeous tattoo wrap of Maori art.
The life-size posters never did him justice. He was a boy then. This is a man’s body. And that V, that’s a V to beat all Vs. He’s wearing faded blue denim jeans with the top button unbuttoned, and wait, what? My eyes bulge like a freaking TSA inspector’s when he finds a restricted item in some poor guy’s baggage. Oh, my, God. His dick is massive.
And totally hard.
My senses reel out of control and I feel hot all over. I could be coming down with a fever.
‘This used to be my bathroom,’ he says conversationally, as he steps into the bathroom and closes the door.
His hair is endearingly sleep-mussed, and his lips are slightly swollen and red, the way children’s are when they first wake up, so it’s damn hard to remain infuriated and forbidding, especially when my insides are buzzing with wicked thoughts, but a lot is riding on this. My plan will crumble if I don’t put a stop to this right now. I need to get him out of my bathroom right this minute.
‘It’s not your bathroom anymore. If memory serves, the guest bedroom has an en-suite. So: kindly GET OUT.’
‘I didn’t come in here to take a piss, wildcat,’ he says, his eyes all hot and crazy.
Holy cow. ‘What?’
‘I’ve discovered I have a thing for ballsy girls. I’ve actually woken up with a raging hard-on.’
Is he freaking kidding? ‘You’re batshit crazy.’
He looks genuinely surprised. ‘Batshit crazy because I want to see my cock disappear into your sweet lips?’
‘How dare you?’
He gives me a smug, self-satisfied look. ‘How dare I? I just saw you stare at my cock like it was a lollipop you wanted to suck.’
I can feel color exploding up my neck and cheeks. I did make that a bit obvious. Fine, it was not a bit obvious, it was a get-in-my-mouth-right-now stare.
‘Any woman would have stared at an erect cock being shamelessly displayed less than five feet away from her,’ I counter as scornfully as possible in my circumstances.
He shakes his head slowly. ‘An uninterested woman would have looked away.’
‘You seem to be laboring under the mistaken impression that I’m interested in you. News flash: I’m not.’
He shrugs. ‘Why not?’
‘You’re not my type,’ I lie boldly.
‘Everyone wants a taste of celebrity cock,’ he states confidently.
See. There is merit to my plan and a method to my madness, after all. These are exactly the kinds of things that will eventually get me out of my crush. Rude, crude, pompous jerk. Like I’m lucky to be getting a chance at having his cock. A few more statements like this I can go home with my mancrush obliterated for good. To my joy I find myself gloriously angry with him.
‘I know you think you’re hotter than shit and irresistible to the entire female population, but some women don’t care for guys whose hobbies include throwing clothes-optional parties, fucking girls who don’t wear panties in toilet cubicles at concerts, and banging whatever crawls into their beds.’
‘For a girl who’s not interested you know a lot about me.’
‘It’s public knowledge. Cash don’t show up unless pussy is involved,’ I defend.
He grins. ‘You can strike off sex in toilet cubicles with chicks who don’t wear panties from your list. It lost its charm after a while.’
‘Whatever. Will you please get out?’
Instead of leaving he walks over and sits on the edge of the tub. ‘Give me one good reason I should.’
‘Karma is a bitch and you’ll have to pay the price of being an asshole?’
He laughs. ‘Don’t worry. This has a happy ending.’
‘Are you kidding me? One-night stands are not considered happy endings.’ I scoff.
‘What makes you think I’ll only need you for one night?’
I sigh elaborately. ‘Look. I work for your father and, shock horror, screwing his son’s brains out is not in the small print of my employment contract.’
‘We’ll just have to tear that contract and have a new one drawn up.’
‘This is all a big joke to you, isn’t it?’
‘No,’ he says, waggling his pointer finger between us. ‘Don’t you think we’ve got a lot of sexual vibes going on here?’
‘No we don’t. First off you hit me with the worst pick up lines in the history of shitty lines, then you barge in here uninvited and tell me you’ve got a hard on. It’s downright insulting. You’ve got a hard-on. Go fuck yourself.’
If anything the expression in his eyes heats up. His eyes glint with interest. ‘I would if I didn’t suffer from Masturbator’s wrist.’
My mouth drops open. Did he really say what I think he said? ‘What?’
‘It’s from indulging in my other … er … hobby. Ya know, like tennis
elbow, gamekeeper’s thumb, writer’s cramp. It’s a repetitive strain injury …’ he trails off, his voice full of barely suppressed laughter.
The thing is. He is funny and I am starting to really like our snarky back and forth. And that is a bad thing. A very bad thing. I definitely do not want to like anything about him. I squeeze my lips together in a bitter line.
‘Careful, you were about to crack a smile there.’
‘You know what? I’ve had enough of this bullshit. I know you’re my employer’s son and everything, but if you don’t get out right now I’m going to scream, and I can scream loud enough to wake the dead.’
He crosses his arms over his chest and grins. ‘Go ahead and scream. Dad and Britney are still out, and Cora is well used to hearing women screaming in my bedroom.’
‘What do you actually want, Hunter?’ I demand sternly.
‘One kiss.’
‘What? No.’
‘Come on. What’ve you got to lose? If you don’t like it, we’ll call it a day.’
‘No. Absolutely not,’ I say very, very firmly. I have a plan. I have it all figured out, and this is certainly not part of the plan. Who knows where one kiss could lead. Even the idea is already giving me goosebumps.
‘You chicken shit, Diamond?’ he taunts.
‘No,’ I deny, jutting my head and bobbing it the way kids do when they are trying to annoy you. ‘I’m not chicken shit. Has it ever occurred to you that maybe I just don’t want to kiss you?’
‘No.’
I gasp at the arrogance. Unbelievable. ‘Well, I don’t.’
