20. Twenty

Twenty

T he soft, first light of dawn plays at the edge of the curtains and the smell of sex fills the bedroom as I'm awoken by smooth, warm flesh pressing against my body and a pair of soft lips brushing against mine. I flicker open my eyes to find a pair of liquid brown eyes staring down at me. Art's firm, warm body is covering mine and I feel his erection between my thighs.

My stomach flips at the sight of his dishevelled ruggedness. His hair is sticking up this way and that but does nothing to lessen the impact of his perfect face. He gives me one of those easy smiles as he gazes down at me and makes me feel as if I'm the only woman in the world.

I reach up a hand and graze my fingers against the stubble of his jaw and smile. "Am I dreaming?"

"No." He plants a light kiss on my lips. "But I think I am because I can't believe you're real. "

I cup my hand around his jaw and graze my thumb over his cheekbones as I take in the sight of the beautiful man in front of me. "I'm real."

He lowers his head and places his lips against the base of my throat. I close my eyes. "I know a good way we can find out."

He slides into me with one smooth push, and we both groan at the feel of him filling me completely. I tilt my hips, taking him deeper, and wrap my legs around his waist as he takes my hands and presses them into the pillow above my head.

"Look at me."

I open my eyes at the request.

He keeps his eyes locked on mine as he withdraws to the tip and thrusts into me, taking his time. "I love being one with you."

I bite down on my lip to stem my ragged breathing as my core tightens around him.

"I can't get enough of you." He pushes into me again, slowly causing my muscles to clench. If he's planning on taking it slow and steady, then I'm not sure I'm going to be able to hold out.

"Tell me you're mine," he breathes, sliding inside me again and pressing his warm lips to my cheek.

I close my eyes at the beautiful torture he's subjecting me to as warm, tingling tendrils of desire begin to snake their way up my body. "I'm yours."

"Look at me," he says firmly, withdrawing once more.

I snap open my eyes and fix on his scrutinising dark gaze.

His chest heaves as he drives his hips against mine and his eyes are hooded with lust. "I want to know everything about you. Please, promise you'll tell me."

There are some things I don't want him to know about my past. Mum and Lucy know some of the bad things Theo did. No one knows the worst thing. No one. But right now, he's got me where he wants me, and I'll agree to anything. But this works in two ways.

"Okay," I pant, maintaining his gaze. "But promise me you'll tell me everything about you. "

His eyes search my face for a few seconds as if he's working out the answer to a really difficult question. "I will."

He dips his head and kisses me hard on the lips, still buried deep inside me. A tingling sensation consumes my core as my muscles contract around him, aching for more. This man's got impressive self-control because I'm not sure how much longer I can last.

It's like he reads my body.

He keeps his lips sealed against my mouth as he rears his hips back and thrusts inside of me. "I'm close."

"Me too."

"Look at me."

I open my eyes to see his heated gaze fixed on mine. "Now, Sophie."

We keep our eyes on one another as he drives into me one final time. His mouth goes slack and his eyes close as he throws his head backwards and explodes inside me. The sight of him lost in his own euphoria proves too much and I unravel beneath him, my muscles contracting around his pulsating erection as he fills me with his seed until the tension dissolves from his shoulders, and he collapses on the bed beside me.

Contented silence provides the backdrop to the sound of our heavy breathing as it fills the bedroom.

"I think I'm getting used to waking up like this every morning."

I smile. "Me too."

"Everything's different... with you."

My curiosity is piqued at his sudden declaration and I feel the skip of my heart in my chest as I roll onto my side to face him, propping my head against my hand. He lies back, hands behind his head, staring up at the ceiling. Dark brows are drawn together into a slight frown as if he's trying to work something out.

"What is?"

"Everything because you're different to any woman I've ever met before." He looks at me. "When we first met, you put me in my place. Gave me a hard time. You told me what you thought of my idea about selling the hotel. I'm not used to women standing up to me like that."

I roll my eyes in mock disgust. "Don't tell me. They're usually all yes Art, no Art."

"Pretty much. They don't challenge me. I'm not proud to admit it, but I used to take what I wanted from them and leave."

At least he's being honest.

My eyes narrow curiously. I don't really want to know about the finer details, but I want to know all about him, so I'm going to have to ask. "So, what would happen with the others? You'd meet a woman, chat her up, take her somewhere, have sex, and never call?"

He cringes at the memories. "If I saw someone I wanted, I didn't waste any time. I usually used hotels. Not much chatting happened. And no, I didn't ever call them. Like I said, I'm not proud of how I've treated women in the past."

My thoughts float back to the evening when he took me to view my apartment and seemed desperate to touch me, but didn't. "The first time you took me to show me my apartment, you told me I was your Kryptonite." I frown. "What did you mean?"

He rubs a hand through his hair causing it to fall across his brow. He throws me a hesitant look. "It's going to be difficult to tell you this without me sounding like an arsehole."

"Go on," I say slowly.

"Women usually give me what I want. I don't need to be dominant in order for them to do that. So, if I make a play for a woman, then it's usually inevitable."

"What is?"

"That we'll end up in bed together." He looks at me. "That day in the kitchen, I knew if I made a move, we'd probably end up fucking, most likely on the counter-top because I wouldn't have been able to wait and I didn't want it to be like that with you. I didn't want to take what I wanted from you, then drop you. I didn't want a quick fuck. "

He turns onto his side and props his head against his hand. "I've waited thirty years for you. I wanted everything to be perfect. And it is. You're perfect and you're mine."

My heart twists at his words and as his dark, shimmering eyes hold mine, I know I've fallen hard for this man. "And you're mine."

He reaches out and tucks a wayward strand of hair behind my left ear. "I want to spend the whole day with you, and tonight we'll stay home and I'll try to cook dinner."

The idea of staying home with him and snuggling up on the sofa sounds like bliss. "I can't tonight. It's Martin's sixtieth and I'm going out for a meal to celebrate, remember?"

He studies me for a long moment as if he's deciding whether to say something, then shifts towards me, sliding his body on top of mine. He props his arms either side of my head and rests his thighs between my legs and I feel the tip of his cock brush against my labia.

He grazes his fingertips across my jaw as he stares down into my eyes. "I don't want to share you with anyone," he says softly. "And I know that's unreasonable of me, isn't it?"

"A little," I admit as I idly trace my fingertips across his biceps and up across the firm muscles of his shoulders.

He brushes the tip of his nose against mine. "It's what you do to me." Dark eyes hold mine. "I worry that one day I'm going to wake up and you'll be gone."

My fingers snake their way through his thick hair. There's a vulnerability to his voice I haven't heard before that makes me want to kiss him and never stop. "I'm not going anywhere."

He smiles. "Good, because—" He trails off, shaking his head as if he can't finish the sentence and I really want him to.

Since he waltzed into my life, he's taken centre stage, and we've been pretty much inseparable since we met. If I'm being honest, the thought of spending an evening without him fills me with an emptiness that I've never felt before .

The words spill from my mouth. "Do you want to come with me tonight?"

His face lights up. "I'd love to."

"Really?"

"Of course. I've told you, I want to know everything about you." He kisses me lightly on the lips. "Every… single… part."

The rumble of engines from the street below, drifting through the open French doors, pulls me from my slumber. The late June sun beats through the open curtains and bathes the bedroom in sunny warmth as I push myself up on my elbows and scan the room. I'm alone, but a square piece of paper lies on the glossy, dark wood bedside cabinet. I reach over and pick up the note.

You looked beautiful sleeping, so I didn't wake you. Gone for a run. Won't be long. X

I grin as I put the note back down.

Yes, I could definitely get used to waking up like this every morning.

Fifteen minutes later, I'm showered and changed into light-blue denim jeans and a white t-shirt. I'm twisting my damp hair up onto my head in a bun when there's a knock at the front door.

It can't be Art because he'd have his key.

I head across the wooden floor into the hall and open the door.

It's Tara. Every muscle in my body tenses. She's dressed in sprayed-on jeans and a white, off-the-shoulder top. Her blonde tresses are swept up into a high ponytail, and she purses her lips at the sight of me.

What the fuck is she doing here again?

She doesn't even try to hide her contempt as she rolls her eyes and looks behind me into the apartment. "Is he in?"

I fold my arms across my chest as she tosses out the words at me. "No."

She heaves a sigh and inspects her cerise pink talons, looking thoroughly bored at the fact she's having to speak to me. "When will he be back?"

"I have no idea. "

I'm being purposefully unhelpful, bordering on childish and I don't care. I have no desire to help this woman.

Tara's kohl-rimmed eyes sweep me up and down. "You're not the first, love, and you won't be the last."

I narrow my eyes at her dig. "The last what?" I snap.

"Flavour of the month." Her nose wrinkles as if she's smelt something unpleasant. "Although, I think he must be having an early mid-life crisis with you, you look far too much like a good girl, Pollyanna."

An unsettling feeling sparks in my head at her words, but there's no way I'm going to show it. Not to her. I cut my eyes. "Yes, well, people change."

"Not Art. I've known him a lot longer than you, love. Actually, I know him very well." Her eyes narrow as she delivers the line and my teeth clench as I know she's referring to her sleeping with him.

I throw her a withering look. "Maybe he wants someone with a little more class nowadays."

Tara gives me a thin smile. "You poor cow. You don't know him at all, do you?"

The uneasy feeling is growing by the second and I want her to leave. A stab of relief runs through me at the sound of footsteps coming up the stairs and I pray that it's Art, so he can put her straight.

I glance down the corridor and see Big Steve walking towards us with a frown on his face. Great, now there are two of them. It's my turn to roll my eyes.

"Is he not in?" he asks Tara.

She swings her ponytail over her shoulder. "No, he's gone for a run."

"How do you know he's gone for a run?" I snap.

She gives me another one of her smirks, which makes me want to slap her. "I told you. I know him."

My fingernails dig into the bare flesh of my arms. I hate her.

"I'm off, before my big mouth runs away with me," she says, turning to Big Steve. "I'll wait in the car." Then without a second glance, she saunters across the landing in her stupidly high heels .

Big Steve frowns as he looks at me. "Tell him to give me a call when he gets back." He turns to start to walk away. There's no please, no thank you. I don't know who these two think they are, but I've had enough of their bloody rudeness.

"I know you don't like me," I blurt.

Big Steve stops in his tracks and turns around to face me.

"You and her," I nod towards the staircase.

He frowns in confusion. "Don't lump me in with Tara."

He's not fooling me. He's probably surprised I've called him out. "I sort of get it," I carry on. "You've known and worked with Art a long time and I get you're going to look out for him, but if you think I'm only interested in him for his money, you're wrong."

Big Steve rubs a hand across his bald head, the look of confusion still on his face. He takes a couple of steps towards me. "I don't dislike you, Sophie. You seem to be a nice, decent girl. Too nice for him, and I've told him so. You're not like the others. If anything, I'm looking out for you. I'm worried you'll get hurt."

I'm on the back foot. The uneasy feeling Tara sparked is now threatening to consume me. What does this mean? How could he hurt me? His kinky past, perhaps? But I know about that.

"There's always a risk, isn't there? But it's one I'm prepared to take."

Big Steve considers what I've said. "Is it?" He doesn't sound convinced. "Listen… just ask him if he's going to be popping into work tonight."

He turns and starts to make his way across the landing to the staircase.

Now it's my turn to frown in confusion. "Why would he pop into the gym on a Friday night?"

Big Steve pauses as he reaches the top of the staircase. He opens his mouth and looks like he's about to say something, but then shakes his head as if he's thought better of it and carries on down the stairs. I watch his bald head disappear out of sight then head back into the apartment.

I'm sat on a kitchen stool, still mulling things over in my head when I hear the door close five minutes later .

Art strolls into the kitchen, his black Under Armour t-shirt stuck to his upper body with sweat and black shorts glued to his toned, muscular legs. He runs a hand through his sweaty hair and places a hot kiss on the back of my neck. "Morning, beautiful."

I stare down at my phone as he walks round the island and stands with his back to me, opening the fridge door. He looks like a gorgeous, sweaty fitness model and I need to focus to get the answers to the questions floating around in my head.

"Your friends visited while you were out," I say.

"Friends?"

"Big Steve and Tara."

A slight tension appears in his shoulders, but he remains silent staring into the fridge.

"He asked if you were going to be popping into work tonight."

He pulls a carton of orange juice from out of the fridge door.

"Why would you be going to the gym on a Friday night?"

"Friday night's boxing club. I've told you, sometimes things can get out of hand with some of the guys. Testosterone and all that." He shuts the fridge door. "I'm going out with you tonight, so no, I'm not going."

"He implied that you hadn't told me something and that he was worried I was going to get hurt." I hate the fact that I'm about to admit the next bit because it means I've allowed Tara to get under my skin. "In fact, they both said I didn't really know you."

He takes a swig of orange juice and turns around to face me, his dark eyes fixing me a look. "Firstly, Big Steve knows you're not like the other women I've been with. He's worried that I'm going to treat you the same way and hurt you, and I'm not. Secondly, Tara is just jealous of what we have."

The coil of uneasiness in my stomach is slowly unravelling. "What don't I know about you?"

He places the carton down on the counter and takes my hands in his. "We've agreed to share everything about ourselves, haven't we? "

I look down and watch as he brushes his thumbs across the top of my knuckles. "Yes."

"And I will, but it will just take time. Like it will take time for you. Do you trust me?"

I lift my eyes to find him staring down at me. More than anything. "Yes, I do."

"And I trust you and that's all that matters."

He lets go of my hands and walks around the counter to where I'm sitting. I shriek in surprise as he slides his hands under my buttocks and lifts me up against his damp t-shirt. He might need a shower, but I'm not complaining.

"What are you doing?" I giggle, giving him a playful slap on the arm in mock protest. "You're all sweaty."

He flashes me a wolfish grin as he begins to carry me towards the bedroom. "And I'm about to get even sweatier."