Ripped (Miller Sisters 1) - Page 19

The connection was so intense and powerful I wanted to bottle it. I wanted to feel that same revved-up level of excitement for the rest of my life. Or maybe I didn’t. I wouldn’t be able to eat or sleep feeling like this.

I thought about Groundhog Day and decided if I could stay in a moment forever it would be this one, suspended in the blissful, almost unbearable excitement of what was to come without any of the trauma afterwards.

Maybe with my New Year’s resolution, all my relationships would feel like this. I’d live the excitement, then walk away before the collapse part.

A horn sounded behind us and I realized we weren’t the only people on the roads.

Nico swore softly and turned his attention back to the car.

He was driving towards the river and I realized I hadn’t even asked where he lived. I didn’t know where he was taking me.

We drove along the embankment, past the Albert Bridge. It was my favorite bridge in London. Elegant and floodlit, it sent sparkles of light over the inky black surface of the water below. When I was little it used to make me think of a woman putting on diamonds for an exciting night out. Rosie called it the Bling Bridge. I didn’t believe in fairy tales, but if I did, this bridge would definitely have featured in mine.

We were in Chelsea and I expected him to drive south because I didn’t know anyone who could afford to live here, but he suddenly swooped into an underground car park.

It was spacious and well lit, but away from the bright lights of the city, the truth suddenly hit me. I was with a man I barely knew.

The blood pulsed in my ears and then he reached across and undid my seat belt. ‘It’s cold. We should go up.’

Cold? I wasn’t cold. I was burning hot.

I was also having second thoughts, despite reminding myself that the fact we barely knew each other was supposed to be a good thing. That was the point of emotionless sex.

And it wasn’t as if he was a stranger. We’d bumped into each other on and off for years, just never really spoken. But honestly, how well did any of us ever really know anyone? My Mum was married to my Dad for fifteen years before she found out he was having affairs. She’d trusted him. I’d been with Charlie for ten months and he’d behaved in ways that made it obvious to me I’d never known him. All we knew about another person was what they chose to show us. You could only know someone if they let you know them.

His apartment was on the top floor and my jaw was also on the floor because it was the penthouse, complete with balcony and views over the river towards my fairy-tale bridge.

‘Wow.’ As praise went, it wasn’t that eloquent, but it was all I could manage. Honestly, I was dumbstruck. How the hell could he afford this? ‘What sort of lawyer did you say you were again?’ He’d told me he was a good one. It was obvious he was a very, very good one.

‘Do you really want to talk about work?’

His voice came from right behind me and I turned and saw that he was holding a bottle of champagne.

I was surprised. ‘Yo

u didn’t drink anything at lunchtime.’

‘I knew I’d be driving you home.’

I licked my lips. ‘What if I’d said no?’

‘I was in possession of evidence that suggested you wouldn’t.’ His response was sure and confident. The corners of his mouth flickered and he eased the cork out of the champagne like a pro. By now I was so jumpy and on edge that when it popped, I flinched.

‘I don’t see how a few words typed into a search engine could be used as evidence. Several people had access to that laptop, including yourself.’

He raised an eyebrow and poured me the sparkling liquid into a tall, thin-stemmed glass.

I didn’t want to be impressed, but I was.

Rosie and I only drank champagne if someone else bought it and we never drank out of glasses like these. It made it feel special. He made me feel special. I wondered what he’d thought of our apartment with its non-matching plates and table designed to seat half the number of people we’d squashed around it.

His home was all polished wood and soft leather.

‘What are we celebrating?’ I watched as the bubbles rose and wondered what it was about champagne that lifted the mood. ‘Christmas?’

‘You. Naked in my apartment.’

My tummy tightened. ‘I’m still dressed.’

Tags: Sarah Morgan Miller Sisters Erotic
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