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I withdraw as a result of her snappy reply.
“Would you like to show me where your intended project is so we can start discussing your requirements?” she asks.
My eyebrows jump up of their own volition. I’d happily discuss my requirements all day long, and it doesn’t involve any kind of designing. “Sure.” I fetch my mobile from my desk and follow her to the door, quickening my stride to pass her.Woo her in the traditional way, Ward.
I bow as I hold the door open, unleashing one of my most dazzling smiles. She’s not amused.Oh, playing hard to get now, huh?Well, unlucky for you, Miss O’Shea, I’m quite taken by you. You only have yourself to blame.
My eyes fall to the base of her back when she passes, and my hand is resting there before I can stop myself. Her shoulders jump up, her breathing becomes rushed, and she increases her pace, severing our contact, but she comes to an abrupt stop when she reaches the summer room. She doesn’t know which way to go.
“Do you play?” I ask, pointing to the courts outside the window.
Her laugh is pure and joyful, and it feels good to know I did that. Made her laugh. She’s loosening up.A point to you, Ward.“No, I don’t.”
I grin, happy with myself. More so when her smile widens.Kill me now.Her beauty just increased tenfold. “You?” she asks as we walk on.
“I don’t mind the odd game, but I’m more of an extreme sports kinda guy.”
“What sort of extreme sports?”
The kind that’ll make your eyes water.“Snowboarding, mainly, but I’ve tried my hand at whitewater rafting, bungee jumping, and skydiving. I’m a bit of an adrenalin junky. I like to feel the blood pumping.” I need to do that shit more often. Get the adrenalin pumping in healthier ways.
I study her for a few pleasurable moments. This is nice. A normal conversation about normal stuff with a beautiful woman.
“Extreme.”
I can’t help myself. “Veryextreme.”
She loses her breath. She’s struggling. Might even blurt out something inappropriate again. That façade she returned from the ladies’ with? Bye-bye. “Shall we continue?” I ask. Her eyes close briefly—gathering herself—and when she opens them, I make sure the first thing she sees are mine. And she searches them. What is she hoping to find?
“Yes, please,” she practically breathes.
I smile and lead her into the bar, not surprised to find Sam propped on a stool; he’s a millionaire with nothing to do but fill his time with kink. But it’s unusual to see Drew here at this time of day. I give them both a hello slap on the shoulder. “Guys, this is Ava. Ava, this is Sam Kelt and Drew Davies.”
“Good afternoon.” Drew, ever the cold one, takes Ava in from top to toe.Yes, I agree, mate, she looks all wrong around here.
“Hi,” Ava says.
“Welcome to the pleasure dome.” Sam raises his beer, and I roll my eyes. “Can I buy you a drink?”
“No, I’m fine, thanks.”
“Jesse?”
“No, I’m good. I’m just giving Ava a tour of the extension. She’ll be working on the interiors,” I say, turning a smile to her. Perhaps I’m being presumptuous. Her taking the contract is not set in stone at all, but I plan on making it happen.
“About time,” Drew pipes up. “There are never any rooms available.”
“How was boarding in Cortina, my man?” Sam asks, steering us away from Drew’s grievance.
I settle on a stool. “Amazing. The Italian way of skiing follows pretty closely to their laid-back lifestyle.” I watch Ava as I speak. She’s interested, wants to know more, and that in itself is appealing. So I reel off what I got up to in Italy. Minus the women and drink.
“You’re good?” Ava asks quietly, her eyes now comfortably set on me.
At what? Fucking? Skiing? Wooing? “Very,” I reply, and she nods, thoughtful, our eyes locked. She’s wondering about the fucking part, despite the fact that, naturally, I didn’t mention my extracurricular activities of that sort while I was in Italy. Or would she call it making love? Whatever. My dick inside her. All the same thing. “Shall we?” I get up and gesture the way.
She says her goodbyes to the lads, and I don’t miss both their interested looks. Whatever they’re thinking, I’m certain I won’t like it.
“So, now for the main feature,” I tease, taking the stairs, Ava following. We circle the landing. “These are the private rooms.” I point to a few doors, my private suite included. Her. In there. I close my eyes briefly and try not to let the fantasy take hold as we reach the stained-glass window at the bottom of the stairs that lead to the communal room. I glance up, my mind off on another tangent. What would she look like up there? Hanging from a St. Andrews Cross? Shackled to a horse? Spread-eagled on a bed?
