Broken Chords (Love in London 2)

I preferred his hot stares, and when we walked out of the lift, I found myself swaying my hips in an exaggerated way, hoping to get that back.

“Anyway,” I said, putting my key in the lock. “It pays for all this.” I pushed open the door and we stepped inside. I hadn’t been home since the previous morning, and even then I was too bleary eyed to do much more than shower and slap on some make-up. So I was relieved to see it was pretty neat—especially for me. Not a pair of dirty knickers to be seen.

When I turned to offer him a cup of tea, that hot look was back again. His eyes were dark and narrowed, his jaw tense. It knocked the breath out of me, especially when he took a step forward and traced the thin skin across my collar bone. Even though his touch was light, it still made me shiver.

“Lara,” he said. “Such a pretty name. The sort of name I could write songs about.” His finger dragged lower, reaching the swell of my breasts. I wanted to look down, to watch what he was going to do, but I was too entranced by his eyes.

“I bet you say that to all the girls.”

“Not to ones called Ethel.” He smirked and it made me giggle. Then he leaned forward and brushed his lips against my neck, and it was all I could do to breathe.

“You taste of coconuts,” he whispered into my skin. “I want to cover you in chocolate and eat you like a Bounty.”

I laughed again. He was funny and hot. “Plain or milk?”

His lips trailed lower. He pushed my collar aside, fingers dipping inside my bra, and the next moment I felt his thumb graze my nipple.

“There’s nothing plain about you.”

He could talk the talk so well, I liked it. The way he couldn’t give a shit about my job or my rent-as-expensive-as-a-small-car flat was refreshing. Alex was the no-bullshit type. Said what he thought and took what he wanted. It was insanely sexy.

“Did I tell you I have a really nice bedroom?” I ask him. “Views of the river. King size bed. I might even have made it yesterday.” I wasn’t sure about that last bit.

“Do you look at the view a lot?” he asked.

“It’s pretty.”

“When you have sex?” He unbuttoned my dress, brushing the thin silk off my shoulders. It slid down my arms and fluttered to the floor.

“All the time.” I didn’t want to admit I couldn’t remember the last time I had sex.

“Mmm.” He pushed my bra down, freeing my breasts. Sighing softly, he scooped them into his palms, his thumbs stroking my flesh. “This is pretty.”

“Yeah?” My voice was soft.

“Yeah.”

By the time we made it into my bedroom I was naked except for my knickers. Still dressed, Alex spun me around, his hands gripping my waist, fingers digging into my hips. Stepping forward, he pressed me against the glass window overlooking the Thames. I could feel his erection on my behind.

“I want you to take a good look at that view,” he whispered into my ear. His breath tickled and caressed.

“Why?” By that point I was all sensation. My front was cold as it pressed into the glass, my back hot with his presence. His fingers slipped inside my knickers.

“Because you won’t be looking at it again for a while. I’m not one of your city boy hook-ups. I don’t do sweet, I don’t do respectable. When I’m finished with you, Lara, you won’t be able to open your eyes, let alone appreciate the fucking vista.”

Oh God.

I wracked my brain for a snarky reply but the impulse died as he spun me back around, my heated back now pressed to the cold glass. Then he dipped his head until his mouth was hard on mine, his demanding kisses leaving me in no doubt that his fucking would be equally as aggressive. Then he pulled my knickers down, dragging his fingers, the tips brushing the part that made my knees buckle.

“Take your clothes off,” I growled, pulling at his T-shirt He stepped back, grinning, and lifted it over his head. I stared at him, open-mouthed, following the lines of his muscles, the patterns of his ink. Admiring him as if he was a work of art.

Then he pulled off his jeans, standing only in his boxers. A hard ridge was obvious at the front. I trailed my finger down him, watching him twitch, then curled my hand until I was cupping his erection.

When I sunk to my knees, I heard him mutter a low “fuck,” his oaths getting louder as I took him out of his boxers. My hand encircled his girth, pulling him down, enough for my lips to graze against his tip.

He gave a sharp intake of breath.

I wrapped my mouth around him. Trailed my tongue around the head. When he sighed louder, his hands tangling in my hair, I couldn’t help but hum with satisfaction.