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He wheels the trolley over to the bed and parks it in front of me. Gingerly, I lift the lid off one of the large serving dishes to reveal cinnamon porridge, smoked salmon and scrambled eggs. It looks delicious but for some reason, I don’t feel particularly hungry.
“This is great,” I say. “I hope you’re going to help me eat it?”
“I’m sorry; I’m not really much of a breakfast person. I ordered it for you.”
I force a smile. There’s no way I’m going to be able to finish this, but I’ll sure as hell take a crack at it. As I get stuck in, Nick returns to the bathroom to finish getting dressed. I can’t understand why he doesn’t just stay where I can see him so I can ogle him to my heart’s content. I’d give anything to catch even a glimpse of what I enjoyed last night.
“So, what have you got planned for today?” I shout.
“I have a meeting with a client at one o’clock,” he shouts back. “When we leave here, I’ll be going straight to Shepherd’s Bush.”
“Oh.” I feel a stab of disappointment. I’d been hoping we could spend the rest of the day together, but it seems Nick has other plans.
Five minutes later, he slides back the bathroom door and steps out wearing the same clothes from yesterday. He looks great, but for some reason, my mood has soured. Adjusting his cufflinks, he asks me what I’m doing for the rest of the day.
I flounder. “Oh, I’ll probably just go home. I’ve got lots to do, plus I don’t fancy walking around West End in the same clothes from yesterday.”
He laughs pleasantly. “That’s true. Pity me then. I’ve got to get through a whole meeting before I can go home and get changed.”
“Where do you live?”
“Pimlico.”
“Very posh.”
“Oh, not really. The best thing about it is the transport links. It’s a doddle for me to get to work in the mornings.”
There’s an uncomfortable pause.
I down the last of my orange juice, and then I climb out of bed and make my way to the bathroom. I can feel his eyes on me; studying, probing, and all of my old body hang-ups come flooding back. I wonder just how bad I look in the cold light of day. Whatever’s on his mind, I wish he’d say it already.
I race into the shower cubicle. As hot jets of water drum down around me, I close my eyes and reminisce about the mind-blowing sex from last night. It was the most wonderful, most perfect experience of my life and I can’t stop thinking about it. The feel of his cock inside me. The heat from his lips. Oh, God, what I would give for him to come in here right now and have his wicked way with me again.
Right on cue, the bathroom door opens and Nick enters brandishing a pile of fresh towels and a fluffy, white dressing gown. He’s nothing more than a silhouette against the steamed-up glass, but I know he’s getting a good eyeful of my naked body. My blood races at the possibilities. For an interminable time, he hovers outside the cubicle, teasing me into a frenzy of excitement.
Then finally, he clears his throat. “Carly, I’ve brought you some fresh towels. I’ll just leave them here on the rack, okay?”
“Thanks,” I smile.
And then he’s gone, and I’m left swallowing a bitter pill.
Damn it. I wanted him to ravish me.
When I’ve finished washing and dressing, I return to the bedroom to find him sitting on the bed, watching the highlights from a football game on TV.
“Are you ready to go, darling?” he asks sweetly.
“Yes, I think so.”
Nick picks up the remote and switches off the TV. Shrugging on his coat, he takes one last look around the room. “Have we definitely got everything?”
I pat down my pockets. “I think so.”
“Ah ha!” He snatches my watch from the dresser and dangles it before me. “We almost forgot this little treasure.”
I laugh tonelessly.
Smiling warmly, Nick comes over and puts the watch back on my wrist. As he finishes strapping it up, our eyes meet and I silently plead with him to let me know what’s going on. I need reassurance. I need to know that last night was more than just sex.Please, don’t let this be the end.
