The Wish (London Suits 1.50)

“This isn’t like you. Where’s your Christmas spirit? Go on—ask her to dance, and turn on your Alex charm. She’ll be putty in your hands before you know it.”

“I can’t charm this one.” He pouted, and I laughed again.

“Try harder. Go on.” I gave him a little nudge, and he gave another heavy sigh, but complied. I watched as he leaned down to whisper in her ear, then she rolled her eyes and shrugged, and they started dancing, holding each other at arms’ length, but I noticed a tiny smile appear on the woman’s lips.

My work was done, and I needed a break. I decided to leave the office for a bit. Walking out into the hallway, I pressed the button for the lift, to take me up to the top floor, where there was a small roof space—technically we weren’t supposed to use it, but it was an unofficial smoking area used by the businesses in the building. Not that I smoked, at all, but I’d been up there a few times.

The lift stopped at the twentieth floor, and I stared at the doors with trepidation, realising that I hadn’t thought this through. I was roaming around the building on my own, in an extremely skimpy outfit and a Santa hat, standing out like a sore thumb, and none of my friends knew where I was.

The doors opened and a potbellied man with a side parting slicked over his balding head entered. “Alright, darling?” he leered at me, and I shuddered, darting past him and out of the lift, desperate not to be stuck in an enclosed space with him.

Not looking where I was going, I ran smack into a hard body.

I lost my breath.

Tingles of electricity shot through my entire being as the person I’d run into gripped my arms, stopping me from losing my balance.

“Are you okay?” His amused voice sounded close to my ear, and I shivered, not from the cold. My eyes flew up to meet his grey ones.

Looking sexy, suave and delicious enough to eat, his sharp jaw covered in the lightest dusting of stubble, his chestnut hair perfectly styled, his body covered in a tailored suit that fitted him like a glove, and polished black loafers.

It was him.

The man from the coffee shop.

I tore myself away from his grip and ran.

3

Ashley

Déjà vu. The first time I’d seen him, I’d run into the bathroom to get away, and now I was doing exactly the same thing.

Why was I running? I couldn’t even say. This man flustered me beyond belief, my unexpected attraction to him so strong, that he scrambled my mind.

Entering the twentieth-floor bathroom, the location identical to those on the fifteenth floor where my office was, I gripped the counter, breathing hard, willing myself to calm down.

The door suddenly swung open behind me, and I met a pair of steel eyes in the mirror. What the hell? He’d followed me in here?

Flipping the lock, his eyes never leaving mine, he came up behind me. I felt his body heat, his solid chest against my back.

I held my breath, not daring to speak.

He inclined his head, running his nose up my neck, and nipped at my lobe, before kissing the shell of my ear.

I forgot to breathe. All the warnings about strangers flew out of my mind, and I whimpered, pleasure coursing through me at his mouth on my skin. My legs, already shaky, wobbled, and his arms came around me.

“Steady,” he murmured, his voice dripping with pure sex.

Fuck. I arched back, feeling his hard cock pressing into my ass, and he groaned. He slid his hands up to my breasts, my nipples already pebbled, and caressed me until I was moaning incoherently.

He watched me in the mirror, his grey eyes darkened to black. Sliding his hands up and over my shoulders, he kissed down my neck and along my collarbone. He spun me around and hoisted me onto the countertop.

Our lips met for the first time.

It was explosive.

Damn, he could kiss. His tongue explored my mouth, tangling with mine, his lips tasting me while his hands pushed up my skirt. He slid a hand between my legs, pushing my underwear aside and running a finger over my wetness.