Mr. Knightsbridge (The Mister 1) - Page 94
“That’s the final piece of the puzzle. You say you want me, and I know I want you. I came here to give you a speech about how I wasn’t prepared to be just some girl you’re dating.”
“You’ll never be just some girl I’m dating. You’re the woman I want to spend every waking hour with, want to tell every thought in my head to. You’re the only person I’ll take sartorial advice from and the only human being on this planet I’d let share my office. You’ll never be some girl. You’re my woman. Fuck Matt, fuck every other man on the planet.”
She placed her finger over my lips. “I need to be clear with you now—I was hurt by what Matt did. Devastated even. But he never made me feel like you do. I feel strong, not weak, with you, like my opinion matters, like I’m smart and sexy and cared for when I’m with you. Don’t ever compare yourself to anyone and especially not Matt.”
The tension in my muscles eased. I’d needed to hear that from her more than I’d let myself believe. For me it was simple—I’d never had a relationship with a woman worth mentioning—but she’d thought she would spend the rest of her life with Matt. I hated him for having that part of her before I could, but I also wanted to shake the prick’s hand for being stupid enough to let her go. Because that meant I got her.
“You’re incomparable to anyone,” I said.
“So, we’re doing this?” she asked.
I chuckled. “We are. But you might need to use your pumice stone on me as we go on our journey. I have some rough edges and I’m pretty sure I’m going to fuck up left and right. You’ll have to tell me.”
“Oh, I will, don’t worry.”
I cupped her face in my hands. “I know you will.” And I’d enjoy every second of her setting me straight and explaining exactly how I should love her.
I’d love her any way she needed and every way I could.
Thirty-Seven
Beck
I slid my hands up her thighs, taking her skirt with me. “You know what this calls for.”
“I know you’re trying to get into my knickers,” she replied leaning back on the desk and opening her legs.
I was trying. And I wasn’t hearing any complaints.
“But I don’t know what occasion you’re referring to.”
“You mean apart from the fact I just told you I loved you and you apparently love me back, apart from the fact we’re alone for the first time in days, and apart from the fact I’ve dreamt about the feel of your skin under my fingertips every night since we left Scotland?”
She grinned in response. This woman’s smile had the power to end me. I felt it deep in my gut—like I needed it to function. I’d never stop yearning for, working for, dreaming of it.
“Apart from all those things,” she said, tipping her head back as I pressed more and more urgent kisses up her throat.
“We have to christen your new office. That way, every meeting, every telephone call, every thought you have in here, will have me as a backdrop.”
I started to unbutton her blouse but she stopped me. “Beck, the whole of London can see us.”
“Not unless they’re standing on the dome of St Paul’s—” She went to interrupt me but my amusement must have shown on my face and she stopped. “Before you say something about people watching from the Golden Gallery or the Stone Gallery—the place is closed.”
I finished unbuttoning her blouse. “And if there was some private function or an interloper, hidden away after closing . . .” I dipped and placed a kiss between her breasts. “Then I think they deserve a show.”
I reached up between her legs, pulled off her knickers, and she gasped as I trailed my fingers across her pussy. “Wow, you’re sensitive.”
“Don’t tease me,” she pleaded. “Not tonight.”
I plunged two fingers deep into her and she groaned. “I promise. There will be no teasing.”
Not teasing exactly. But the things for which you work hardest, taste the sweetest.
I withdrew my hand and straightened out, tasting her as I licked my fingers clean. “Just like honey,” I said.
She sat up, reaching for my belt, and I took a step back, took off my jacket, and hung it on the coat stand behind the door.
“Beck,” she implored.
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