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"Hugh, that was…wow."
Though I'm breathing so hard my ears are ringing, I manage to speak. "Yes, love, that was wow."
For a moment, neither of us says anything.
Then Avery sighs with deep contentment. "So, are you going to tell me what you'll be wearing tonight? I'd like us to be color-coordinated."
"What?" I still haven't caught my breath, and she's moved on to what clothing we should wear for our date. "No bloody idea. Does it matter?"
"Choose a grey suit. It'll look hot on you and go with anything I wear. Maybe I'll surprise you with my dress."
"Yes, fine, whatever." I understood the words grey suit and dress, but nothing else.
"Remember to pick me up at eight. I'm in Room 440. Goodbye, Lord Sommerleigh."
She disconnects the call.
And I lie here slumped in my chair trying to remember what words are and why I need them. Doesn't matter.
Because Avery Hahn just stole my sanity.
Chapter Eight
Avery
I stand in front of the full-length mirror in my hotel suite and examine my outfit to make sure I haven't forgotten anything. Am I nervous about my date with Hugh? No, I think I'm excited. After what we did this afternoon, I expected to feel weird about seeing him again. The flutter in my tummy every time I think about Lord Sommerleigh might be a warning sign, but I don't care.
Heaven help me, I had phone sex with Hugh Parrish—and I loved it. I've never done anything like that before. If I want to get off by myself, I don't need a man to call and tell me how to do it. But I loved listening to Hugh's rough, hungry voice while he ordered me to touch myself.
As hot as that was, I want more. I want real sex. With him.
I can't do it. I know that. We agreed to a fake relationship for public viewing only, and we agreed to keep it professional the rest of the time. Okay, then why did I agree to phone sex? Hugh spoke in his Lord Steamy voice, and I lost every last shred of my common sense.
Yes, it's his fault.
What would sex with Hugh be like? Steamy and sensual. Vigorous and breath-taking. Slow and intimate. Hot and hard and incredible. I think it would be all those things and more, but I cannot ever get hot and dirty with him again. Is this the third time I've caved and let him do things to me that are totally inappropriate? I've lost count.
Someone knocks on the door to my suite.
My pulse throbs faster, and suddenly, I have trouble taking a full breath. Oh no, Iamexcited to see Hugh again. Really excited. But I can and will maintain the proper decorum. No going down on him under the table in the restaurant. To distract myself from that thought, I take another look at myself in the mirror. My deep-purple dress brings out the lavender shades in my eyes, and the backless design makes me feel sexy even while the neckline reveals only the barest hints of my cleavage. The long skirt falls just at my ankles, and my stiletto heels match the dress.
I force myself to walk out of the bedroom and across the living room instead of sprinting. Then I pull the front door open and give Hugh a calm smile. "Good evening, Lord Sommerleigh."
"Good evening, Avery." He rakes his gaze over me. "You look good enough to devour, darling. And you should call me Hugh, don't you think? We are pretending to date, after all."
"Of course. You're right, Hugh."
He skims his gaze over me again while rubbing his jaw. "Avery, you are the most beautiful and desirable woman I have ever laid eyes on."
"Thank you. I love your gray suit. It's elegant and sexy." And that suit makes me want to drag him over to the sofa and say to hell with dinner. But I restrain my lust. Barely.
He offers me his arm. "Shall we go, darling?"
"Yes." I curl my arm around his. "Where are we going?"
"To the sort of place where everyone shows up in designer clothes and no one asks how much anything costs."
"So we're showing all those rich snobs that you aren't a total sleaze. You are a gentleman."
