Beneath This Man (This Man 2)

‘S’all good.’ He slaps Jesse on the shoulder and walks off in the direction of the bar.

Jesse places his hand in the small of my back to guide me out and as I turn, I catch a glimpse of Sarah standing in the doorway of the bar. She greets John, but her eyes are fixed firmly on me and Jesse leaving The Manor. She is watching intently and there is no mistaking the look of bitterness on her pouty face. I predict handbags at dawn. She looks like a woman who gets what she wants. My bitchy side races to the surface, and I silently dare her to try, tossing her a warning look. I ignore the little part of my brain advising me that I’m preparing myself for a trampling mission. My neurotic Lord is rubbing off on me.

‘Leave your car, we’ll get it tomorrow.’ he says as he opens the passenger door to his Aston Martin.

‘I may as well drive it back now.’ I’m here, it would be silly not to.

He narrows his eyes on me and thrusts his hand towards the passenger seat of his car. I shake my head, but get in. We’ve had enough words for today. I don’t need my car, anyway. He slips in besides me and starts the car.

As we make our way down the long driveway, we pass Sam’s Porsche on its way towards The Manor. I bolt upright in my seat. ‘Hey, there’s Kate!’ I blurt. Sam honks his horn and puts his thumb up to Jesse, and I crane my neck as we pass them. Kate puts a reluctant hand up to me. ‘What’s she doing here?’ I look at Jesse, who keeps his eyes on the road. Oh, good God! ‘She’s a member, isn’t she?’ I ask accusingly.

‘I don’t discuss members. Confidentiality.’ He’s dead pan.

‘So she is a member!’ I shriek. I don’t believe this.

He shrugs and presses a button to open the gates. The little minx! Why hasn’t she told me? Is she here for all things kinky in general, or is she here for Sam specifically? Christ, just when I thought my fiery, red headed friend couldn’t surprise me more. Oh, she has some explaining to do.

Jesse roars off down the road and plays with a few buttons on the steering wheel. The stereo kicks in and I’m surrounded by a distinctive male voice. I recognise it.

‘Who’s this?’ I ask.

He starts tapping the steering wheel. ‘John Legend. You like?’

Oh, I do. I reach over to the steering wheel and Jesse slides his hands down to give me access to the controls. I locate the right one and turn it up more.

‘I’ll take that as a yes.’ He smirks and reaches over to place his hand on my knee. I cover it with mine.

‘Yes, I do.’ I answer. ‘Is your hand okay?’

‘Fine, unravel your knickers, lady.’

‘I need to text Patrick.’

‘Yes, do. I’m looking forward to having you all to myself tomorrow and all weekend.’ He removes his hand from my knee and replaces it on the steering wheel.

I fire a quick text over to Patrick and, as expected, he replies speedily, telling me to have a well-deserved day off.

Perfect.

Chapter 16

We stroll into Lusso hand in hand, and Clive clocks us immediately, giving me a disapproving look. I smile an apology and notice maintenance repairing my handiwork.

‘Mr Ward.’ Clive says cautiously. Is he waiting for a ticking off for letting me escape? I think I might be forced to defend him if Jesse tries to reprimand him. It’s not in his job description to play prison guard.

‘Clive.’ Jesse nods and leads me to the elevator without another word to an obviously apprehensive Clive.

As the doors close, I’m thrust up against the wall, the full length of his body cocooning mine. The powerful throb I’m so familiar with these days drops straight into my groin and has my veins heating immediately. He slips his leg between my thighs and raises it, brushing over my core and, just like that, I’m panting.

‘You’ve upset the concierge.’ he breathes, his lips close to mine, our hot breaths mingling in the small space between our mouths.

‘Damn.’ I force the word out through my strangled breaths, and he crashes his lips to mine, taking them with conviction and purpose, while grinding his beating erection against me. Oh Lord, I want to rip his clothes off, but this most certainly isn’t making love, not that I would even dream of complaining.

‘Why aren’t you wearing a dress?’ he asks irritably, betwe