Shacking Up (Shacking Up (Shacking Up 1)

Some men have great phone voices. The kind of voice that makes all the parts below the waist heat up. Bancroft Mills has that kind of voice. And he’s only uttered two words.

“Hey. How was the flight?” I sound all kinds of breathless, for absolutely no reason other than his voice makes me want to have multiple orgasms.

“It was long but good. Am I catching you at a bad time?”

I turn my face into his pillow and clear my throat before I answer. “No. Not at all.”

“Did you have a good day? How’s everything going?”

Obviously, he’s checking up on me to make sure I didn’t kill his pets in the twelve hours he’s been gone. I consider telling him I lost Francesca and that Tiny’s escaped her habitat, but I don’t think he’ll find the humor in that. “We had a great day. Francesca partied herself out this afternoon and Tiny’s in super-chill mode.”

“Super-chill mode?”

“Mmm hmm. She was having none of the partying. Francesca’s a bit of a naughty girl, trying on all my thongs, taking naked selfies.” Oh my God. What the hell am I saying?

I expect at least five seconds of silence and an okaaaay, instead I get a deep rumble of a laugh that ping-pongs around until it lands in my clit. “It’s a good thing you weren’t wearing those ones when you came out to say good morning.”

“Why’s that?” I press my thighs together and wait.

“Because my flight was already painful enough.”

“I’m not seeing how my choice of panties would impact your flight.” Jesus. Is he saying what I think he’s saying?

“Do you have any idea how amazing your ass is? Or how long seven hours would’ve felt with that image burned into my brain and no way to alleviate the issue?”

I’m pretty sure Bancroft just told me he wants to whack off to images of me wearing a thong. Or maybe he just has.

He clears his throat, but it doesn’t do away with the gravelly sound, or the pinging still going on in my clit. “Sorry. That was probably too much information. Francesca’s second favorite place to hang out is my underwear drawer, so I’m not surprised she took a liking to yours, too.”

“I’m sure mine are a lot more exciting than yours.”

“From what I saw that’s definitely true.”

Okay. I need to move this conversation away from my underwear before I need to change them, or succumb to the urge to send him pictures of my panties. While I’m wearing them. “What time is it in England?”

“Two in the morning. I need to think about getting some sleep, but I’m not sure it’s going to happen. I have a meeting at nine and I’m not the least bit tired.”

“When I can’t sleep I read the dictionary or fifteenth-century literature.”

“Why would you do that?”

“Because it’s so boring it puts me to sleep.”

I get another laugh out of him. “Well that’s an idea.” It sounds like things are being shuffled around in the background. “What’re your plans for the evening?”

“Well I have that party starting in about an hour, so that should keep me busy tonight. I managed to cut the guest list down to a hundred, which is manageable, don’t you think?”

“Much more manageable than the two hundred you originally planned for.”

“I thought so, too.”

“You have the fire department on call?”

“The entire guest list is comprised of firefighters, so you don’t have to worry about that.”

I get another laugh, although it’s a little nervous-sounding.

“So what’s the meeting for tomorrow?”

“I’m supposed to review the plans to upgrade some of the London hotels. We have five hotels here and all but one are set to undergo some form of renovations. I’m here to oversee the projects with one of my older brothers.”

“You don’t sound too excited about it.”

“Well, we’re a lot alike in some ways, so it can be difficult to work with him, and I have to deal with him every day for the next five weeks, so there’s that.”

“That sounds . . . unpleasant?”

“Lexington likes to be in control of things, and he believes he knows everything.”

“Is that a family trait?” I bit my lip to keep from laughing at his unimpressed noise.

“Lex is far worse than me. If my father had sent Griffin along, this trip would be a lot easier.”

“So they both work for your father as well?”

“Straight out of college and into the hotel business.”

“Do you all look alike?” Clones of Bancroft strolling the streets of Manhattan might be more hotness than this city could handle.

“Not really.”

“That’s unfortunate.” I need to have a look around for family photos.

“Lex doesn’t have a great track record with dating and Griffin has a girlfriend. I’m fairly certain he plans to propose this fall, so don’t get any ideas over there.”

There’s a hint of genuine irritation in his voice, as if he doesn’t appreciate my line of questioning. “Calm down, I’m just playing with you.”

“Sorry. I’m snappy because I’m jetlagged and I’d rather be home, not spending the next five weeks here.”

“I understand where you’re coming from. Being pushed into something you don’t really want because you’re out of other options, I mean.”

“Yes. Well, my rugby career wasn’t going to last forever, so this was inevitable. Anyway, I’m being whiny. I need to stop that before I lose more points. I was down to eight-point-five this morning, wasn’t I?”

“Mmm. It might take a while for you to earn that half point back.”

“That means I’ll have to be on my best behavior then, doesn’t it?”

“Well I’m sure it’s a lot easier to behave yourself from across the ocean.”

“You’d be surprised,” he mutters. “Hold on, room service is here with my dinner.”

I’m surprised they serve food at two in the morning, but then maybe because his family owns the hotel he gets whatever he wants, whenever he wants.

I hear his muffled voice in the background and then he’s back again. “I don’t know why I’m making you stay on the phone with me, I’m sure you have better things to do than listen to me eat.”

“Actually, I haven’t eaten dinner yet, so I could heat something up and we could eat together.”

“Isn’t it nine there?”

“I slept in a little and had a late lunch.” I don’t mention getting up at two in the afternoon. Not when he’s been traveling all day.

I put him on speakerphone while I prepare a plate of leftovers and stick it in the microwave.

“What are you having?” he asks.

“I’m on to the chicken parm and spaghetti. I ate all the primavera this afternoon. What about you?”

“A burger and fries. It was pretty much the only option at this hour.”

Once my meal is reheated I take it over to the counter, grab a bottle of Perrier from the fridge, and drop onto a stool.

“So this traveling you’re doing now, will you have to keep it up?” I twirl noodles onto my fork.

“Probably for a while, at least until my father thinks I have the basics down.”