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He thrusts hard and I say his name again and again and again as pleasure breaks over me like a hurricane. This time he explodes with me, his urgent movements bringing us both home, satiating us simultaneously.
We might be mop-adjacent, but that was the best sex of my life.
I’m already wondering when I can be with him again.
* * *
We cannot do that again. I stare across the room at her, seeing the way she smiles as that idiot from Scott Manning Grey says something he thinks is funny and Olivia laughs. She is immaculate. There is barely a sign that I’ve just fucked her hard against the walls of Tate Modern. Only I would be able to perceive the way her hair is a little like a bird’s nest at the back, from where my fingers tangled in the curls and pulled them hard.
Her lips are fresh once more, lined with bright red lipstick—the same lipstick that is smeared over my cock.
Jesus. The way she was as crazed by what we are as I am. The way she wanted everything. Demanded it.
We can’t do it again and yet I know we will. As sure as day follows night I know that wasn’t enough for either of us. Not by a long shot.
‘Connor.’ I tilt my head towards the voice, a tight smile on my lips when I see someone I know approaching.
‘Aston. How are you?’ I extend a hand and he shakes it. Life hasn’t been kind to Aston in the eight or so years since I saw him last. He’s gained a tyre around his middle and lost all the hair on his head. His cheeks have the ruddy glow of one who’s been imbibing all evening. And he probably has been.
Our glasses, Olivia’s and mine, are still in the corridor, beside the mop bucket. I flick my gaze to her like a nervous tic, tracking her progress through the room, watching as she speaks to lecturers, students and professionals.
That dress. It is a beautiful dress but I can’t look at her now without seeing it bunched around her waist, without knowing exactly how it feels to have it thick in my hands, exposing her to me.
‘Not as good as you. Bloody oath. That Donovan verdict was a bit of a win, eh?’
Donovan is the last thing I want to talk about. It threatens to drag me back to earth, and I am so far above it, floating high above all of this.
‘Yeah.’ I offer a curt dismissal. ‘What are you working on now?’
‘Contracts,’ he says with a grimace, like he’s ashamed. ‘Mainly military.’
I nod. Olivia looks up—is she looking for me? Her eyes connect with mine for the briefest moment and then move on. My body surges with adrenalin and need. It is after ten. When will this thing end? And will she come home with me?
* * *
‘Well, Miss Amorelli...’ His voice is like honey, sliding over my body. Images of what we did flash through my mind. His hands at my hips, pushing me forward, his cock at my arse, him driving into me. God, we haven’t even kissed.
>
‘Yes, sir?’ I bat my lashes up at him, aware that we are surrounded by people but that the crowd offers a unique kind of cover.
‘You seem to be the only student not planning to apply to my firm.’
I lift my brows. ‘Does that bother you?’
‘It interests me,’ he corrects, shifting a little, moving his body closer to me. His masculine fragrance grips me and makes me tremble a little.
‘I don’t want to work for you.’
His laugh is sharp. ‘You wouldn’t work for me. You’d work for someone who works for someone who works for someone who works for me.’
His arrogance should be off-putting but it isn’t. His power is mind-blowingly sexy, particularly because it’s a power he’s created all on his own. At least, I think he has. I feel my face crinkle into a frown as I realise how little I know about him.
‘You’d be really far below me,’ he adds huskily and my heart trips in my chest.
‘Heavy-handed double entendres aside, I’m not interested in criminal defence.’
His smile makes my heart race. ‘You’ve put crim down as your focus,’ he reminds me, and just the fact he has that tiny piece of biographical knowledge does something funny to my gut.
