This Man (This Man 1)

I walk out onto Piccadilly and into the lunchtime crowd. I know he’s following me. I can feel his penetrating green eyes stabbing at my back.

As I turn into Berkeley Street, the crowd thins out, and I glance back, finding him stalking behind me, his eyes full of fury. He does look delicious in his charcoal suit and pale blue shirt, though. I huff to myself and increase my pace. If I can make it to my office, I’ll be safe from his wrath. There’s no way he would cause a scene at my office, would he? He didn’t seem to give two hoots about scolding me in front of Kate and Sam. Can I risk it? The man’s so volatile. Why is he behaving like this, anyway? I’ve only had sex with the guy, not married him.

I quicken my pace, making it through the office door, but no sooner have I got to my desk, I’m hauled from my feet on a squeal, and I’m on my way back out.

‘What the bloody hell are you doing?’ I shout at him, but he ignores me, carrying on with his long, even strides out of my office. I brace my hands at the bottom of his back and look up to see Tom, Victoria and Sally, all gawping at me being manhandled into the street. Oh God, please let Patrick be out of the office. ‘Jesse, fucking hell! Put me down now!’

He lets me slide down his front – purposely slow so I feel every hard muscle of his delicious chest – stopping me before my feet hit the ground. He holds me around my waist so my lips are level with his, his blatant erection rubbing me in just the right spot. He’s mad and turned on?

Author: Jodi Ellen Malpas

A treacherous moan escapes my lips as he pushes himself against me, breathing his hot, minty breath on my lips. I’m supposed to be bloody mad here. Instead, I’m being held against my will – kind of – and wanting to strip my captor in front of all of my colleagues, who are all squashed at the office door, fighting for the best view.

‘Mouth. You stood me up. ’ He presses his lips to mine before he pulls away, his sludgy eyes softening as he looks at me expectantly.

I can hardly tell him why I cancelled now. I imagine he’ll go up the wall. ‘I’m sorry. ’ I sigh. Will he accept that? I need to get back into the office and sort my head out. No, I need to go home and sort my head out, preferably with a bottle of wine.

He shakes his head mildly, and then he attacks my mouth purposely, right in the middle of Bruton Street. My fingers thread through his hair as I surrender to his impossibly addictive mouth, without much thought at all. He’s unashamed and oblivious to the hustle and bustle of lunch time pedestrians passing and, quite probably, staring as he completely consumes me. He swallows me up every time. He thrusts his groin forward aggressively, coaxing a moan to escape my mouth. This is a look-what-you-missed kiss, and I’m beginning to damn Matt to Hell.

‘Don’t do it again. ’ he orders, in a tone that dares me to challenge him. He releases me from his grip and my feet hit the ground, the loss of support causing me to stagger forward.

He grabs the top of my arm to steady me, causing a slight stab of pain to radiate through me, snapping me out of my spellbound state on a sharp inhale. He drops my arm and stands back from me, his soft eyes raging and focused on the scatter of bruises at the top of my arm, courtesy of Mr Baldy Jag. His jaw starts ticking, his chest puffing, as he stares at my arm.

All I can think about is how lucky Mr Baldy Jag is that these bruises weren’t present yesterday. ‘I’m fine,’ I cover my arm with my palm in the hope that concealing the offending area might snap him out of his fuming state. He looks positively homicidal. Is he mad because I have a few bruises? ‘I need to get back to work. ’ My voice is small, nervous even.

He drags his stare from my arm, back to my eyes, looking at me like I’m the offending object. A flash of irritation passes over his handsome face as he reaches up to rub his temples with his fingertips. It’s an obvious sigh of stress.

He eventually shakes his head lightly and stalks off, without another word, leaving me standing on the pavement wondering what in the world just happened. I look down to the ground, my eyes darting about, like I might find the answer written in chalk on the slabs.

Is that it? Is it over? The look on his face said it is. I’m not sure how I feel about that. One second he’s thrusting his hips into me on a moan, the next he’s looking at me in pure irritation. What am I supposed to make of this? I really don’t know. I shake myself out of my reverie and head back into the office. The silence is awkward, everyone obviously pretending to look busy.

‘You okay?’ Tom asks, slowly passing my desk. I look up, seeing his usual nosey expression is dotted with concern.

‘I’m fine. Not a word to Patrick. ’ It comes out harsher than I intended.

‘Of course, I’ll say no more. ’ He holds his hands up in defense.

Fuck! All I need is Patrick to find out that I’m caught up with a client. I should have been stronger and resisted his advances. I’m really not very comfortable with how I feel right now. I think…I think it’s somewhere in the realms of…abandonment?

Chapter 16

I practically crawl through the front door in an exhausted heap. I find Kate in the kitchen, hanging out of the window having a cheeky fag.

‘You need to pack that in. ’ I scorn her. She doesn’t smoke much, just a couple here and there, but it’s a bad habit, nevertheless.

She takes a last drag and throws it out of the window before hastily climbing down from the worktop. ‘It helps me think. ’ She defends herself. Yes, she claims this whenever I catch her having a sneaky puff. Now, I’m supposed to ask what she’s thinking about, but I already know the answer to that question.

‘Where’s the wine?’ She grabs my bag from me, pulling it open, before looking at me in disgust. I’ve just committed a cardinal sin – I forgot the wine.

I shrug. I’ve had other things on my mind. ‘Sorry. ’

‘I’ll go to the shop, you get changed. Fish and chips?’ She grabs her purse from the table as she shoves her feet in her flip flops.

‘Just chips. ’ I make my way down the hall to my bedroom. I feel completely deflated.

I sit with Kate on the couch, picking at the chips on my plate. I have absolutely no appetite, and I’m only half watching the re-run of Friends. My mind is all over the place, and I’m so furious with myself for letting it be.

‘Come on then, spit it out. ’ Kate demands.