The Casanova (The Miles High Club 3)

I go to her dresser and open the top drawer. “Should I be packing all of these granny knickers?”

She bursts out laughing. “Look at you . . . being all English and shit.”

I smile.

“I’ll convert you yet, gov’nor,” she says in a strong cockney accent.

I chuckle. “Are you high?”

She makes a pinch with her fingers. “Little bit.”

I smile as I pull her up by the hand. “Come on, let’s go home.”

Chapter 19

KATE

I wake to the sound of a bird cry in the distance, and judging by the shadows on the wall, it’s just dusk. From the corner of my eye I glance over to see Elliot sitting at a small table near the window, his laptop open, fully engrossed in work. He types at a furious speed and then hits send.

I can tell by the way he’s angrily hitting the keys that he’s emailing someone who has annoyed him and he’s telling them just how much.

I smile; some things never change. I sit up on my elbows. “Hi.”

He glances up and his face instantly softens. “Hello.”

I tap the bed, he walks over and sits beside me. “How are you feeling?”

“Good.”

He pushes the hair back from my forehead. “You have tomorrow off too, I’ve already called it in.”

“I don’t—”

“It’s not up for negotiation,” he interrupts me.

He stares at me and it’s obvious he has something on his mind. “I’ve made you an appointment with a decent doctor.”

I frown. “By decent, you mean expensive?”

He rolls his eyes.

“Why?”

“Because this isn’t normal.”

“It is for me.”

He exhales and stands. “I’m not having this discussion, Kathryn. I’ve already made the appointment, you’ll see the specialist tomorrow at two. I’m coming.”

“You are not coming,” I scoff as I flick the blankets back, not in the mood for this shit.

He tilts his chin to the sky. “Why not?”

“Because.” I pause as I think of the right thing to say. “We’re not even . . .”

“Not what?”

“Officially going out together.” I walk into the bathroom.

“What?” He marches in behind me.

I pick up a sanitary pad.

“If we’re not together, what are you doing here?” he barks.

“You brought me here, when I was half dying.”

“To look after you.”

Guilt fills me—he’s right, I’m being a bitch. I force a lopsided smile. “And I appreciate it, thank you.”

“And we are together. Just because nobody knows about us doesn’t make our relationship any less important.” He crosses his arms angrily. “I have every right to know what’s going on with your body.”

I roll my eyes. “Look, thank you for your concern, but I just need to take care of this stuff myself . . . okay?”

He stares at me flatly.

I hold up my pad. “Do you mind?”

He keeps staring at me.

“Elliot, give me a minute.”

He storms back into the bedroom.

I sort myself out and wash my hands as I stare at my reflection in the mirror.

What’s going on here?

He told me he doesn’t do relationships and yet here he is, acting like the possessive boyfriend.

Perhaps he’s changed his mind and he does want more? Not once this weekend did he act like this is a casual, sex-only thing.

Excitement fills me. Don’t get carried away, I remind myself.

The only problem is that it’s been so long since I had a boyfriend I think I’ve forgotten what to do . . . or what to let him do.

I know if I want this to work between us, I have to try harder to let him in.

I walk back out to see him sitting at his little table, his laptop open in front of him. He doesn’t look up and it’s clear that he’s annoyed.

“Thank you for making the appointment,” I say softly. “I’ll go.”

His eyes rise to meet mine.

“This is new to me, having someone . . .” I cut myself off, unsure what to say next.

He nods but stays silent.

“I just don’t want you hearing about all of my faults.”

His face softens, and he presses his lips together as if stopping himself from speaking.

I twist my fingers in front of me nervously. “I don’t want to wreck this, you know?”

He stands and comes to me, his hand cups my face and he stares down at me. “And there she is,” he whispers.

My eyes search his.

“The vulnerable Kate that I adore.”

I inhale deeply as I feel emotion overwhelm me. “I wouldn’t be nice to me this week if I were you, not unless you want me to cry like a baby. I’m completely unstable.”

“Alright.” A trace of a smile crosses his face. “Would you like to suck my dick before or after you eat your dinner, you filthy wench?”

I giggle, grateful to him for making light of the situation. “Careful, my mood could go either way, it’s a very fine line. Who knows what’s going to come out of my mouth?”

He bends and kisses me, his tongue tenderly swiping against mine. He smiles against me as if having a thought. “It’s what’s going into it that I care about.”