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Large French windows overlooked a patio and frost-covered evergreen borders, and the view beyond was postcard-pretty with bare, frosted trees and distant hills dotted with sheep. The room itself was large and comfortable. There were several well-stuffed armchairs and a matching sofa. One wall was lined with books. There was also a TV, a rack of DVDs, and what looked like a well-stocked bar in one corner of the room.
Braving the corridor again, she noticed that the doors to room number one and two were both slightly ajar. The sound of a shower running emerged from at least one doorway. She headed in the opposite direction, towards the staircase. To the left of it she saw an open doorway that led into the kitchen.
Whoa, this place is a dream. Andrea would love it. It was just the sort of thing they wanted for their business, but they couldn’t stretch to it as yet. She walked along the stainless steel cooker tops and work surfaces, running her fingers over them possessively. A massive great breakfast bar ran down the centre of the room, two stainless steel poles reaching from floor to ceiling at either end giving the place a high-tech, all-mod-cons feel that didn’t quite fit with the rest of the house. Whoever did the cooing here liked their gadgets. As she passed, she loosely clasped the pole at one end, pivoting on one heel, imagining what Andrea would say if she could see this fabulous kitchen.
“Oh yes, you like that, don’t you?”
Lily turned on her heel, her hand falling way from the pole.
Adrian was standing in the doorway, elbow up against the frame as he supported his weight on one leg, a walking stick in his other hand. His insinuating gaze was on her shimmying with the pole.
Her skin prickled anxiously and she quickly moved away from the metal pole when she realised what she’d done. Without thought, she had sashayed across the space by instinct, using the pole as her pivoting point.
It was there in his eyes; he remembered everything she’d said—that fantasy about being a pole dancer or a lap dancer for a private audience, one special man. Part of her wanted the floor to open up and swallow her. The other part of her responded to the intimate knowledge held in his gaze. Isn’t that what she wanted, someone who would know her secret desires without her having to say them aloud? Yes, but she hadn’t known then that it would work out like this, that she would be locked into a place and time with him that she couldn’t just get up and walk away from. Flustered, she rebuked his comment. “You’re embarrassing me.”
He smiled, and there was gentleness and fondness there in his expression. “I know, and I’m sorry. I couldn’t resist when I saw you there and remembered.” He was a good man. More subtle than she’d thought he would be. He winked and the tension she felt dissipated a little. “I wouldn’t have thought it possible to embarrass you, not when we were exchanging explicit messages in that chat room.”
Somehow she
felt rooted to the spot, trapped by the amused accusation in his expression. She wanted to be that brave woman who had chatted with him so explicitly, but right now it was hard to muster it up. “It was easier then and we talked about that, we both knew it wouldn’t be as easy when we met.”
There was a defensive tone to her voice that she resented. Glancing back over her shoulder as she walked over to the kettle, she saw that Seth was standing in the doorway, watching them. Could this get any more difficult? Above all she craved to be braver, but it seemed beyond her grasp because they were here and not in London, and Seth was part of the equation she hadn’t bargained on. She took a deep breath in, focusing on the kettle. How long had he been there? How much had he heard? Steeling herself, she grabbed the kettle as she passed. “I guess—seeing as I am the woman in this set up—I should put the kettle on and make us some tea.”
She delivered the statement with a note of sarcasm, eager to move the topic of conversation on. But even as she busied herself at the sink, filling the electric kettle, she felt their eyes on her and she remembered why she had wanted to be a private dancer for a man who wanted her.
It had been on the lead up to Christmas, and she and Andrea and a mixed group of friends had gone to a lap-dancing club in Soho, for a laugh. It had turned into something else for Lily as she watched the dancers shimmy and slide, and she felt the sensual power delivered in their actions. She wanted that, to exhibit her sensuality, to strut and tease and to have a man grow eager for her as she displayed herself. The fantasy had shocked her at first, still did if she was honest, but she hadn’t been able to shrug it off. Inevitably, it had come out during her chats with Adrian.
She heard the clunk of Adrian’s stick behind her. “Remember our agreement?”
She turned to look at him, ignoring the looming presence of Seth beyond him—trying also to ignore the fact Seth had brought her to orgasm so ruthlessly the night before.
Adrian’s eyes were filled with concern, and there was reassurance there, too. “We agreed that if it didn’t work out, it didn’t work out. No big deal. I’m sorry you got dragged into this. This situation has taken away the element of choice we discussed, so everything that went before is null and void…unless you say different…”
Looking into his eyes, she saw his kindness. She also saw the blatantly flirtatious nature she knew from the chat rooms. Deeper still, raw desire. He wanted her. He’d met her for real and he still wanted her. Unless you say different. It was a suggestion. He wanted her to say different; he wanted her to act on their connection. In the pit of her belly she acknowledged that, her core growing warm and supple with yearning. Staring at him, her mind flooded with the sexual scenarios she had envisaged on meeting him. This man knows me. This man knows what I want. She nodded, unable to express more right then, not with Seth listening.
“The last thing I want is for you to feel awkward around me. I’m sorry about teasing you. You just looked so good.” He nodded at the pole, and then looked back at her.
She couldn’t bring herself to reply, because he’d remembered what she had said. She’d never met a man who had remembered what she’d said about her desires, not before now. Seth was watching, too. Dense heat was gathering inside her, her pussy fluttering, an ache of need flaring at her core as words flashed through her mind, words she and Adrian had exchanged. Her libido had been well and truly triggered, and she was only pulled out of it when she felt cold water splashing over her hand. She groped for the tap. She hadn’t even realised the kettle was full to overflowing.
Adrian reached across her, dropping his stick to the floor as he took charge and turned off the tap. “It’s my fault that you’re here,” he said as he straightened up. “I’ll never forgive myself for that. No more teasing. I promise.”
She shrugged. It wasn’t really his fault; it was an odd twist of fate. “No, it’s okay. It’s just…weird. This is not what I expected.”
She tried to pull herself together while she put the heavy kettle down. Looking over his shoulder, she saw that Seth had gone. She stared at the empty doorway, desire kindling her whole body. Both of them were attractive men, and now she’d inadvertently got herself involved with them both. “This situation is going to take some getting used to.”
“I understand that, believe me. “ He stroked her shoulder, and she had to resist the urge to move closer and take the physical comfort he offered, trying not to let everything she had told him swamp her. “I’ll try to make this as easy as possible for you,” he added.
She forced herself to nod, but deep down she knew what she wanted, and she didn’t want easy. Which was just as well, because this felt as awkward and complicated as it possibly could be and more.
* * * *
Back off. Don’t get involved, Seth told himself.
It was his policy when it came to women and he repeated it to himself as he strode down the hallway, returning to the room where he’d spent the night in order to clear his head. Get a grip, he told himself. He’d known she was trouble as soon he’d met her, and yet he couldn’t resist. Last night was a mistake, but something about the way she’d looked at him made him lose perspective. It had made him want to taste her and see her lips part in pleasure.
She was different to other women, that’s why. She hadn’t gone all fluttery-eyed on him. Instead, she’d stood up to him, and for some reason that difference meant he’d lost the ability to resist. “Contrary bastard,” he muttered to himself.
The door clicked closed behind him, and he looked around the guest room, remembering how he’d helped his stepfather decorate the place the summer before he’d left for his police training. His old room was at the top of the house, but he hadn’t been up to his parents flat because he felt it was best. He had to stay close to the witness at all times. That was his priority. Why did that seem like task and a half, when it included Miss Hotpants?
