11. Eleven

Eleven

T he rest of the journey is carried out in ominous, painful silence. I stare out of the window for the entire journey, unable to look at Art, seething from his double standards and comment about Mark.

The car grinds to a halt and I stare up at the Georgian apartment block.

"This isn't my home."

"No, it's mine. Please, come inside, so we can talk about this properly." His voice has taken on a softer quality.

He might have calmed down, but I haven't. I peer up at the red brick building shuffling through my feelings. I suppose I should be an adult about this. I want him to give me answers and the only way I'm going to get them is by talking to him.

He grabs my hand, gripping it tight as we cross the pavement and stride up the steps to the entrance.

We come to an abrupt stop at the concierge desk .

"Derek. This is Sophie Ward, I'd like her to be given access to my apartment whenever she needs it, even if I'm not around. Okay?"

I know he's making a point with this gesture. It's an I've-got-nothing-to-hide-from-you gesture.

Derek breaks out into a smile. "It's lovely to be properly introduced to you, Miss Ward. Of course, Mr Black. I shall make a note of your request on the system."

I smile politely at Derek, as Art leads me up the staircase, his vice-like grip on my hand remaining. I'm not sure why he's gripping it so tightly. Maybe he's scared I'll do another runner. It's not until we're outside his apartment, and he unlocks the door, that he finally lets go. He opens the front door with a push. "Please, go on through."

The parquet stretches out through the rest of the apartment as I walk down the hall, stealing glances through doorways as I go. I've already spied a bathroom, office, and second bedroom by the time I reach the open-plan living and dining area. The walls of the living space are painted a deep blue and matching wood panelling runs around the bottom half of the walls. An inviting low-back, deep blue velvet sofa sprawls along the left-hand wall, facing an ornately carved white marble fireplace, above which hangs a large plasma TV. French windows clad in white voile floor-length curtains lead out onto a short balcony overlooking the street below, and an ornate crystal chandelier hangs from the centre of the ceiling. It's country manor with a modern twist and in complete contrast to the kitchen and dining area, which takes up the right-hand side of the space, all gleaming white and space age in design with shiny surfaces and a circular six-seater glass dining table. The place is immense and my mind boggles at the thought of the crushing price tag for living in an apartment like this, in a postcode like Mayfair.

He sits on the sofa, resting an arm across the back. His fingers tap against the material signalling restlessness he's trying hard to keep under wraps. "Please, sit."

I perch at the opposite side of the sofa, on the edge of the seat, careful to keep a safe distance from him. There must be no risk of him touching me if I'm going to keep focused.

"Why did you run? "

Is he serious?

"You left me naked in your bed while you entertained another woman," I snap. "She was clearly more important."

"I hardly entertained her. Tara came to tell me about some work issues. She stayed for five minutes and then left which you'd have known if you hadn't run off."

"Why didn't she call and tell you about it like a normal person? Why did she have to come to your apartment?" I shoot back, aware that I'm bordering on sounding jealous.

"She'd tried to, but I'd turned off my phone because I was with you. I'm sorry, maybe I should I have let you know that I wasn't going to be long with her."

I inspect the nails on my right hand. He's apologising. There's a first time for everything. "What happened this time? More trouble at one of your gyms?"

In my peripheral vision, I sense him shift forward on the sofa and rest his elbows on his knees. "Things can get out of hand sometimes... with guys. It was business, that's all."

I'm not sure what to think. If I overreacted about him letting Tara in, it's because I'm expecting something to go wrong. Just like when I was with Theo. He was Prince Charming to begin with, but it didn't take long for our relationship to descend into a toxic twister of unhappiness, hurt, abuse, and cheating. Of course, when I think back, the signs were there at the start of our relationship. His Saturday night booze fests out on the town with his football-loving mates were a weekly ritual. He'd always return legless in the small hours and blame too much alcohol on his memory gaps of the previous evening if I challenged him the next day. He possessed a wandering eye and was quick to toss out a flirty comment towards any attractive woman who crossed his path. Banter, he'd claim when I got annoyed. The tiny nagging voice at the back of my head, the one I ignored for too long with Theo, is back. This time I'm not going to ignore it.

"I'm not going to be just another woman who you bring back here and shag."

"I've never brought a woman back here before." His body turns to mine and for the first time since we arrived, I look at him .

I falter because I'm not sure what it means, if anything, that he's brought me back here. "What about Tara?"

"What about Tara?"

"You two have history, don't you?"

He drags his fingers through his hair and an uneasy feeling takes hold of me. The look on his face is confirming my suspicion. "It's not exactly history. Yes, we slept together. Twice, three years ago. I met her at Savage. Nothing else has ever happened between us and I'm really not interested in her."

His confession does little to ease my unease about the situation. "So, how come she's ended up working at one of your gyms?"

He shrugs. "I just own the places. I don't recruit staff. It's coincidence."

I'm not sure I believe in coincidence.

Before I can interrogate him further, he slides towards me on the sofa and cups my right cheek with his hand. His dark eyes hold mine and my heart skips in my chest at the contact. "You have absolutely nothing to worry about with Tara. You have absolutely nothing to worry about with anyone. Why would I want anyone else if I've got you?"

"You don't have me," I state resolutely, trying my best to remain focused.

He's reeling me in, and I'm weakened by his touch. My defences are crumbling to dust, and I hate myself for it. I swallow hard. "How did you know I was at Lucy's?"

"After hours going crazy not knowing where you were, I realised you'd probably be at Lucy's house."

His detective skills are top-notch but it still doesn't explain how he knew where she lived. "How did you get her address?"

"I couldn't sleep, so at about half four this morning I drove over to the hotel and got her address from her personnel file." He presses his forehead against mine. "Please, promise me you'll never run again."

I'm not there yet. The niggling voice at the back of my head is telling me there's more to this man. An untold story that I've not even scratched the surface of. "I can't... not yet. "

His mouth is on mine at once and I'm lost. My fingers bunch into his hair, drawing his lips firmly to mine as he lowers me backwards into the cushions and shifts his body over mine. My t-shirt is yanked over my head and off in one, my bra swiftly follows suit. He's not hanging about. He rears back and presses his lips on the dip of my hips below my belly button then teasingly slowly places a line of kisses as he works his way down my body. The dull throbbing between my legs is back with a vengeance. I need him to finish what he started yesterday. The frenetic pace of removing my clothes has now slowed as he takes his time, teasing me as he unfastens my shorts, working them down my legs and off my feet, taking my knickers with them.

"I'll never get tired of unwrapping this." His eyes are almost black as they sweep up the length of my body as he kneels between my legs. He slides his hands beneath my buttocks tugging me towards him, so his face is level with my hips, and plants a kiss on my inner right thigh. I gasp at the feel of his stubble against my soft flesh as he slowly works his way upwards. I moan softly and close my eyes, concentrating on breathing as his heavy kisses get closer and closer. I quiver in anticipation of what's about to happen. He's in total control. Right now, he could tell me to do anything and I'm pretty sure I'd concur. His lips brush my clitoris with the lightest of touches and my hips jerk at the contact. I'm on fire, a heated mess beneath him, and he's barely touched me yet.

His tongue teases me and my limbs tense, my nails digging into the blue velvet beneath me. His hands tighten their grip on my buttocks, lifting me into his face, as he parts my folds with his tongue and laps at my clitoris with firm strokes. He lets out a deep, low groan of delight and the vibration against my clitoris and his pleasure make my muscles contract and tighten. I squirm, tilting my hips upwards. He pulls his hand from beneath my buttock and presses against my hip, pushing me back down into the sofa. He's keeping me still and reminding me who's in control.

The tension inside of me is building quickly with every lap of his tongue and I know I'm close. As if he has a sixth sense, he thrusts two fingers inside of me and soon hits my sweet spot. It's too much. My eyelids drop, and I gasp as a fresh wave of pleasure consumes me. I'm not going to last much longer .

"Let go." His hot lips press against my clitoris and the firmness of his tone, combined with his fingers working their magic inside me, pushes me over the edge. I explode, a quivering, shaking mess riding the crest of my climax then relaxing down into the cushions. I close my eyes as a warm, fuzzy post-orgasmic feeling descends over me.

Moments later, I feel the brush of his skin against mine as his lips press against the curve between my breasts. He runs his tongue across my collarbone, up my throat to my mouth where he kisses me hard. I taste myself as he kisses me, before he pulls away to gaze down at me, the dark hair on his jaw glistening.

"I love the taste of you," he whispers brushing his fingers through my hair. "It's addictive."

As I bask in his gentle words of adoration, I realise with a start that once again I'm sprawled beneath him totally naked while he's still fully clothed. "Take your clothes off," I pant.

He flashes a wicked grin and climbs to his feet. "I'm usually the one dishing out orders in the bedroom, but for now, I'll make an exception."

He tears his black t-shirt off then steps out of his jeans and boxers in double quick time. I'm not prepared. Not prepared at all for the exquisite sight before me. A long breath leaves my body as I stare in wonder at his glorious nakedness. I admire the sculptured muscles and lines of his upper body all the way down to his slim hips and draw in a sharp intake of breath as I take in the large, thick erection bobbing against his flat stomach. He's perfection. Totally and utterly fuckable. And he knows it.

He lifts an eyebrow. "Is that better?"

He doesn't need a reply, I'm sure it's written all over my face.

Moving up my body, he takes my left hand and raises it above my head, then does the same with my right. He closes his fingers around my wrists and pushes them into the sofa, keeping them firmly in place above my head.

"I want to hold you down as we fuck." He repositions himself and the thick, wet tip of his erection slides against my labia. I'm suddenly nervous.

I've never been held down wilfully by the hands. " I'm not sure…"

"Trust me," he soothes and as his dark eyes hold mine, I feel reassured. "Restraint is a big thing for me. It's one of the ways I like to be in control, but if you don't like it, we won't do it again."

So, he's planning on shagging me more than once, then?

He carries on, "Don't speak unless I ask you a question."

Another strategy for maintaining control, I surmise.

The thick head of his erection pushes against the entrance to my vagina, and I instinctively tense a little. He's huge. I'm sure this is going to hurt.

"Relax," he whispers, soothing me. "We'll take it slow this time. Remember, trust me. I won't hurt you."

I lower my head back into the deep velvet cushion. I need to do as he says and trust him. He knows what he's doing.

"Wrap your legs around me."

I do as I'm told, curling my limbs around his back and crossing my ankles.

He slowly pushes inside me, inching his way in, careful not to hurt me. I know he's being gentle, but I can't stop the cry of surprise at the stretching and burning sensation as my muscles tighten around him. He fills me, deeper and wider than I've ever been touched before. I close my eyes and tell myself to keep relaxed as I feel his cock throb against the tightness. He stills inside of me then gently withdraws.

"Can you take any more?"

I feel a stab of alarm that he's not all the way in yet. Fuck, he's huge. I take a deep breath. I've got this. I nod. "Yes, I'm ready."

He rears back and claims me with one thrust. I scream at the sensation of him filling me.

"Are you sure you're okay?"

I nod again.

He withdraws almost all the way before pushing inside me again with a deep, erotic groan that makes my muscles quiver around him and ignites a shimmer of warmth in my groin. I flicker open my eyes to find him lost in his own ecstasy. Eyes closed, head titled back, lips parted. His hair pushed across his brow. He looks so fucking sexy.

"You feel so good." He increases his pace with every thrust until he's hammering into me at a ferocious, urgent pace as if his life depends on it. I can't help wondering, if this is a gentle fuck, what the hell a hard fuck would be like. With every thrust he sends my mind spinning and body spiralling out of control. Sweat clings to me and I feel my legs begin to tremble. I know I'm close.

"Look at me." His voice is a barely recognisable rasp.

Through the fog of my looming orgasm, I do as I'm told and open my eyes. Beads of sweat glisten across his forehead and shoulders and his cheeks are flushed. He's just as close as I am.

"Promise me, no more running."

I can't string any words together. At the moment, my brain is focused on coming and nothing else. My eyes snap closed and my spine curls against the sofa at the painfully pleasurable pressure between my thighs.

"I need to hear you promise me."

The order registers in my brain loud and clear and I stare up at him. "I can't."

"You don't come until you promise me."

Fuck it.

My head lolls and I can't even argue because I'm going to come and know I don't possess enough self-control to stop myself. And he knows it. He withdraws completely and it's as though someone has taken their foot off the accelerator. The temperature has been turned down and I'm left hanging. He's exercising his control.

"I need to hear you say it," he rasps.

As if to punish me for my defiance, he thrusts into me hard and my muscles clench around him making me gasp.

He picks up the relentless pace where he left off. His free hand roughly grips my hip, and I know he'll leave a bruise as he pounds into me, forcing the air from my body.

"I'm going to get lost in you. "

I don't know what he means and can't ask him because another contraction sends me spiralling towards orgasm.

"You're close."

I twist my face into his neck and close my eyes as I'm about to lose my mind. "Please."

"Promise me," he demands.

I feel his cock grow even harder inside me and I'm pushed to the edge as my mouth falls slack and the words tumble out. "I promise."

"Now."

I let go. The build-up of pressure I've tried to keep at bay splits me in two as I dig my fingernails into the flesh of his wrists and scream. My body vibrates as contractions throb deep within me. He explodes with a roar that echoes round the room, carrying me through my climax, his hips thudding against mine, his hot seed spilling inside me.

He releases my hands and lowers the warm, sweaty weight of his chest onto me as our breathing slows. I close my eyes and wrap my arms around him, relishing the feel of his firm muscles beneath my fingers. Our body heat and sweat mingle his subtle scent with mine and it's intoxicating. We're one. Truly one. As I lie pinned to the sofa beneath his weight, I feel safe and protected and I know no one will ever hurt me again. Just like he promised me.

"You're trembling." I open my eyes to find him watching me. "Has that happened before?"

Nothing that has happened to me in the past fifteen minutes has ever happened to me before. Well, it has, but nothing like what I just experienced. My brain has turned to mush, and I still can't string a sentence together. I shake my head, still feeling out of it. I hadn't even realised I was trembling.

His fingers gently stroke my cheek as my limbs relax. "It's never been like that before for me either." He kisses me lightly on the lips and my heart flutters in my chest at his admission. "When I first walked into the hotel and saw you standing in reception, I felt something here." He splays his right palm against the middle of his chest and stares down at me with such intensity my heart aches. "And you did too, didn't you?"

My attraction to him blows any feelings I've ever had for anyone else out of the water. His desire is fierce and the passion he's shown is something I've only read about in novels and didn't believe was real. I barely know him, and the more time I spend in his company the more questions arise but when I look at him, and he touches me, I forget. This power he has over me is frightening. I can't lie to him. Emotion wedges in my throat and I nod mutely.

He moves his hand and places it on my heart. "Here?"

I rest my hand on top of his. "Yes, there, but how? We barely know one another."

He shakes his head slightly as if he doesn't know the answer. "This is new to me too." He grazes his lips against my mouth and touches his forehead to mine. "You're addictive and I'm going to lose myself in you."

I close my eyes at the strength of his words. We met four days ago. How can we feel this strongly about one another? I don't know anything about him other than the little information he's shared and what Lucy discovered from cyber-stalking him. I need to know something… anything.

"What's your favourite colour?" I blurt.

His eyes search my face as if he's trying to work out whether it's a serious question or not. "Blue. Why?"

"I'm just trying to get to know you better?"

He laughs softly. "By asking what my favourite colour is?"

Now I feel a bit stupid. "Don't laugh. It's better than nothing."

"You're right, I'm sorry. Ask away."

I frown. "You've put me off now and I don't know what to ask."

"Okay, how about I love watching any type of sport but just don't have the time, I graduated with a 2:1 Sports Science degree from Oxford and won the award for Best Young Entrepreneur the year I left."

I frown. He's done what I wanted but it wasn't exactly what I'd got in mind.

"That's not the type of thing you meant is it?" he asks, reading my expression .

"Not really. It's all very impressive but a bit, well… formal."

He smiles. "Okay then, here goes… my favourite season is winter, my favourite cuisine is Italian, I love snowboarding and skiing but never get the chance to do it because I'm always too busy. The most beautiful place in the world I've visited was the Duomo in Florence and I hate cats."

I giggle. "What have poor cats ever done to you?"

"I'm really allergic."

I can't help but smile at the mental image of a big, muscly Art being reduced to a sniffling wreck because of a little cat.

He kisses the tip of my nose. "Is that better?"

I interlace my fingers with his. "It'll do for now."

"Go on then, it's your turn. Spill," he grins.

"My achievements aren't as impressive as yours I'm afraid. I studied Art History at Bristol Uni. My favourite colour is red, I like winter too. Cornwall is my favourite place in the world and most of my happiest childhood memories are from when we would go there every year on holiday. I like Italian but prefer Chinese and I don't mind cats."

"Why did you choose Art History?"

"My Dad loved painting and drawing, so I grew up around it and really enjoyed Art at school."

"Art History's not exactly the same as planning weddings. How did you end up working at the hotel?"

"Lucy got the receptionist job and called me when the wedding planner job came up to see if I was interested. I needed the money to be honest so went for it."

"And you're very good at it."

"I enjoy my job," I say. "I hope I'm good at it."

"All the reviews left on Trip Advisor from guests who've had weddings at the hotel or who've attended weddings, are five star. Don't sell yourself short. You should be proud. "

I had no idea. I'm too busy to read that stuff. I know how busy the weddings are, so that's proof enough for me that I must be doing something right. "You have done your research."

"It's my job to. Besides, I needed to know what I was taking on with the hotel."

I remember his comments about weddings being the primary source of income from the staff meeting. "You'd already done all your research before you came to the hotel the other day, hadn't you?"

"Yes."

"What were your first impressions of the place when you walked in?"

"I wanted to know who the sexy pocket rocket on reception was."

That wasn't what I meant. I smile. "Pocket rocket?"

He brushes the tip of his nose against mine and stares into my eyes. "I hadn't had a dressing down like that in quite some time."

"And there I was worried I'd offended my new boss," I tease.

"You intrigued me, and I wanted to know more." He presses a light kiss to my forehead. "I still do."

I can live with that.

We lie on the sofa, a mass of tangled limbs with him still deep inside me for what seems like forever. Our bodies mould together perfectly as if we were made for one another. A column of sunlight slips through the curtains and creeps across the floor as the sun rises higher in the sky.

"Are you hungry?" he asks after a while.

"Starving."

He shifts off me and sits on the edge of the sofa. "We'll take a shower, then I'll make you breakfast."

I prop myself up on my elbows and frown. "Is there time? I really need to head home and get ready for work."

"We're not going into work today."

"What?" I frantically glance around the living room for any sign of a clock, but there isn't one. He must be joking, surely. Apart from two framed photos over by the fireplace, it's all very minimalistic in design. I know I haven't got any appointments but there's planning to get done.

"But I've got work to do."

"Your diary was free for today. I checked when I visited the hotel earlier."

This feels totally alien. I've never bunked off from work before and my expression must say it all.

"Relax. I'm the boss and I'm telling you that you're staying here with me all day. Decision made. I want you all to myself."

Part of my brain is querying why the hell I'm challenging spending an entire day with him but it's so against my character I can't help it. "But Lucy will worry, and people will talk, and I've got no clothes here."

He turns to face me in all his delightful nakedness. "Text Lucy. Tell her you don't feel well so you're not going in. Let people talk. And you can wear some of my stuff."

Before I can argue, he scoops me up and carries me through the apartment into the bathroom. I don't fight it. I love the feel of him holding me and the way the curves of our bodies fit together perfectly.

I'm going to get lost in him too, and I don't think there's anything I can do about it.