All I Am (This Man Novella) - Jodi Ellen Malpas

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental. Copyright © 2017 by Jodi Ellen Malpas Excerpt from The Forbidden copyright © 2017 by Jodi Ellen Malpas Cover design by Elizabeth Turner Cover copyright © 2017 by Hachette Book Group, Inc. Hachette Book Group supports the right to free expression and the value of copyright. The purpose of copyright is to encourage writers and artists to produce the creative works that enrich our culture. The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book without permission is a theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like permission to use material from the book (other than for review purposes), please contact [email protected]. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights. Forever Yours Hachette Book Group 1290 Avenue of the Americas New York, NY 10104 forever-romance.com twitter.com/foreverromance First edition: June 2017 Forever Yours is an imprint of Grand Central Publishing. The Forever Yours name and logo are trademarks of Hachette Book Group, Inc. The publisher is not responsible for websites (or their content) that are not owned by the publisher. The Hachette Speakers Bureau provides a wide range of authors for speaking events. To find out more, go to www.hachettespeakersbureau.com or call (866) 376-6591. ISBN 978-1-5387-4508-3 E3-20170419-DA-NF

Table of Contents Cover Title Page Copyright Dedication Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Epilogue An Excerpt from THE FORBIDDEN Acknowledgments Also by Jodi Ellen Malpas About the Author You Might Also Like…

For Kate

Chapter 1

There’s something seedy about this club. Something that was always absent at my previous club, The Manor. My old haunt in the Surrey Hills felt like home. The lavish grounds, the refined décor, the social environment. It felt like an extension of my life, and it was. Hux is just somewhere I come to fuck. It’s always basked in dim, erotic lighting, and the fog of moans that follow you everywhere cement themselves in your head, lingering long after you’ve left the building. Everything always happens in slow motion here. People walking, people talking, mouths moving so slowly you can pretty much lip-read every word being said. Talk of fantasies, of intentions, and of deepest, darkest desires. Nothing is sacred around here. There’s no mystery or intrigue. You walk through those doors off a London back street and you know exactly what you are going to get. Sex. Sex of the filthy kind. The emotionless scene suits me down to the ground. I don’t have time for the complications of a relationship. Standing behind her kneeling form, I curl the chains around her neck and squeeze, just a fraction, until her breath is even shallower than her orgasm has left her. I dip, getting my face close to hers. “Thanks for playing.” I whisper in her ear, before moving my mouth south and biting down on her cheek. She turns her head and stares at me with eyes that still harbor endless hunger. Hunger for me. Releasing her, leaving her on her knees, I stride into the adjoining bathroom and take a shower, washing away the potent scent of sex. Once I’ve dried off, I stare at myself in the mirror, my blue eyes tired, my dark hair limp and falling across my forehead, covering the few creases that have formed in recent years. Though I’ve avoided the dreaded gray. “Not bad for thirty-nine, Drew.” I get back into my suit and make my way through the club as I scroll through my phone to see where the lads are. Now I’ve let off some steam, it’s time for a beer. “Hey, Drew.” I slow and turn, seeing the owner of this decadent pleasure pit, Cole Hux, zipping up the fly of his trousers, his vast chest bare, the swell of his biceps shimmering with sweat under the dim lights. “What’s up, Cole?” “Here.” His six-foot seven-inch frame is before me in a few long paces, his huge hand holding out a piece of paper. “What’s this?” I ask, tentatively taking it. “Newbie.” He turns and wanders off to his office. “She said she wants someone cold, emotionless, and filthy.” “So you thought of me.” I say to myself, looking down at the name and mobile number. “Raya.” I muse, stuffing the note in my pocket and heading for my car. I can do cold, emotionless, and filthy. With little effort. Actually, with no effort.

* * * I’m rolling my shoulder as I wander into the bar, working out some of the stiffness on a slight wince. It’s been a long week in the office, but with eight sales made, one of which was an overpriced, under-par penthouse in Chelsea that’s been on the market for over a year, you could say it’s been a great week for business. I find Sam, one of my oldest friends, at the bar alone and join him, a beer ready and waiting for me. “Where’s Jesse?” I ask as I take up the stool beside him. The three of us have kept our weekly man-time date for as long as we’ve known each other, and only on a few rare occasions over the decades have any of us missed it. So where is he? The look Sam flashes me is full of amusement that’s trying to be hidden by sympathy. “Who’s upset him?” I swipe my beer up and clink it against Sam’s. “I’ll give you two guesses.” He tips his bottle to his lips, his eyes dancing with enjoyment. “Maddie.” I don’t need two guesses. “How can a man get so worked up over a sevenyear-old?” Sam chuckles, ever relishing in our poor mate’s despair. “She’s not like your Georgia.” I smile at the mention of my girl. My placid, sweet little girl. She looks like me. Has my reserved, quiet nature. I’m so glad, since I hate her fucking mother. I’ve got her back from Coral on Saturday, thank God. The three days a week she’s away from me are long and lonely. “How’s Kate?” “Baking her arse off. It’s wedding season.” He reaches up to his shoulder and brushes off a smudge of flour. “You had a good week?” “Great week.” Sam gives me the once-over, his eyes landing on my crotch. “Been to the club?” I look down and find my fly undone. On a roll of my eyes, I hold my bottle in my mouth by the neck as I fasten myself up. “Jealous?” “Nope. I’m quite happy with my girl, thank you very much.” He dismisses me in an instant. I smile on the inside. “I’m available if you need me.” That soon wins back his attention, and it’s not positive attention. “Just saying.” I hold up my hands, a show of surrender. “Well don’t.” My cheerful mate, whose eyes are constantly sparkling happily, is on the verge of snarling. “It was a one-off eight years ago.” I turn to the bar, getting hold of my amusement quickly before he slugs me one. One time eight years ago, Sam’s now-girlfriend decided she wanted to dabble in all things kinky. We gave her what she wanted. Boy, did we give her what she wanted. I didn’t get attached, never do. But Sam did.

He taps my knee, and I look toward the door where he’s staring, finding Jesse striding toward us with a face like thunder. I quickly signal to the barman for a beer. “My man!” Sam sings, smacking the surface of the bar. “Fuck off,” Jesse grunts, and I laugh under my breath, bracing myself for a rant about all things concerning his daughter. Maddie is spirited. Jesse’s word, not mine. He slams his arse on the stool and practically snatches the beer out of the barman’s hand. We pipe down, facing the bar, and I peek out of the corner of my eye to find Sam grinning around the lip of his bottle. He’s asking for it. I clear my throat and swoop in for some man-talk to distract Jesse from his daddy stress, at the same time distracting Sam from pushing him over the edge. “I have—” I’m cut off when Jesse’s phone rings, and silence falls as we all stare down at his screen, where Ava’s name is flashing up like the warning light it is. “Oh dear.” I sigh as Jesse snatches it up from the bar. My shoulders rise, a lame attempt to cover my ears, and I wince with the deep ache it spikes. Motherfucker. I reach up and rub into my muscles. I need to get this bad shoulder sorted. “It’s not up for discussion, Ava,” Jesse answers in greeting, clean and to the point. Sam’s lips compress with contained laughter, earning a kick under the bar from me and a lethal glare from Jesse. He shrinks on his stool, though his laughter is warranted: we all know Ava’s feistiness drives Jesse to distraction, but displaying any amusement or offering advice is a fatal mistake. I’ve been friends with Jesse long enough to know that my opinion counts for shit when he’s dealing with his wife and kids. Even if he’s wrong, which most of the time he is. My eyes close when I hear Ava. Clear. As. Day. “It’s hair, Jesse,” she tells him, voice raised. “You’re being fucking dramatic as always.” Sam and I wince, both waiting for it. He slams his fist down on the bar, rocking the joint. “Watch your fucking mouth!” “It’ll grow back.” Ava’s tone is quickly pacifying. It’s a waste of her time. “You didn’t even consult me, for fuck’s sake,” he barks. “You and that little minx conspired against me, and now my baby girl is virtually bald!” My lips press together, but Sam is past the point of help, his whole body out of control from laughing. “It’s past her shoulders, Jesse. Stop being so damn unreasonable.” She may as well be waving a red flag to a fucking bull. “We’ll discuss it when you get home.” “When I get home, Ava,” he breathes, strung out, his tone threatening to a point I’m even worried for Ava. “You better be hiding because there’s a retribution fuck on the horizon for you, lady.” He slams his phone down and sinks half his beer, heaving and bristling like a grizzly bear.

“So Maddie’s had her hair cut, then?” Sam asks. The man has a death wish. “Butchered, more like.” Jesse swings toward us on his stool and points his beer across my chest to Sam. I retreat, out of the firing line. “And that woman of yours was in on the gig, too. A spa day, they said. Girl time, they said. They neglected to mention that my baby girl would come back with half a head of hair and pink fucking nails. She’s seven, for fuck’s sake!” “Hey.” Sam backs off. “Kate’s her own woman. Nothing to do with me.” Jesse scoffs, and I resort to taking matters into my own hands before he explodes. “So I have someone who requires my services.” I slap the piece of paper that Cole gave me on the bar. Jesse and Sam immediately lean forward, distracted as planned, and peer at the paper. “Raya,” Sam muses. “How’d she get hold of you?” Jesse asks. “Through the club.” My answer prompts the usual curled lip from Jesse when I make reference to Hux. I laugh to myself. “Well, if you hadn’t sold The Manor, I wouldn’t be forced to find somewhere else to play.” “You need to lay off that lifestyle,” Jesse tells me for the thousandth time. “How else am I supposed to let off steam in between work and Georgia?” I retort indignantly. “Date.” I scoff. “I haven’t got time for that shit.” “You’re pushing forty. Time to settle down.” “Fuck you,” I spit. “You’re pushing fifty, and the only reason you got out was because, by some miracle, you found a woman who could deal with your unreasonable arse.” “I’m forty-six and I’m not unreasonable.” He nods, as if agreeing with himself. “I don’t know why everyone keeps harping on like I’m some crazy ape man who has no reason.” His bottle pauses midway to his lips when he clocks me and Sam staring at him with slightly agape mouths. “I’m perfectly reasonable.” “Whatever. Anyway,” I go on, knowing when I’m fighting a losing battle. “I have Georgia four days a week. Between her and work, there’s not much time for anything else. Hux is relaxing. It’s who I am. What I like.” I ignore the questioning faces of my two mates and order a shot. I’m not lying. It is what I like. No commitment. No complications. Just raw, carnal fucking. I don’t trust women, and that shouldn’t be a surprise when the mother of my child used me to get pregnant so she could try to pass it off as another man’s. And not just any other man, but one of my best mates. Her obsession with Jesse nearly stonewalled his happily-ever-after with Ava. And as a result of her failed plan, I’m now the proud father of a seven-year-old girl. I’m smiling again as I finish my beer. Every cloud has a silver lining.

“What’s up?” Sam knocks me from my thoughts, pointing at my shoulder. “You keep shrugging.” “I put my shoulder out playing basketball with Georgia.” My news ignites a roar of laughter from them both. “All that shit you get up to at Hux, and you put your shoulder out playing a game with your little girl?” Jesse chuckles as I reach up to massage away some of the stiffness. Maybe he’s right. Maybe I am getting too old for all that shit.

Chapter 2

After my daughter, my biggest passion in life is my business, which I’ve built into one of the most competitive estate agencies in the city. After briefing my staff on Friday morning, I watch as the team files out of the conference room before picking up my mobile and dialing the number Cole gave me. It rings three times before someone picks up. “My name’s Drew.” I say, businesslike as usual as I gather the property listings on the table before me. “Cole Hux passed on your number.” “Oh, hi. So how do we play this?” “We meet. We discuss. If you’re happy, we arrange from there.” This part is boring as fuck but necessary. Just get me to the point where I can sink my cock into some fresh pussy. I breathe in and shift in my chair, talking my depraved mind down. “You came highly recommended,” she says, almost thoughtful. Of course I did. She wants cold and emotionless. You can’t get any more emotionless and detached than me. “When should we meet?” I sink back in my chair and run my hand across my stubbly chin, mentally reviewing my schedule. I have Georgia back tomorrow. “I’m free tonight, or it’ll have to wait until next weekend.” “I’m free tonight.” I raise my eyebrows. She’s keen. “Tonight,” I confirm. Why not. It’ll pass the time quicker until I can pick up Georgia in the morning. “What time?” I sense no hesitation in her voice. It’s a pleasant surprise. It’s not rare for newbies to bail when things start getting real. “I’ll be there from seven. Ask for me when you arrive.” I stand from the chair and collect the piles of property details. “Just one more thing,” she blurts out, and I still, waiting for what she might ask. “What do I wear?” I smile as I stride to the door and swing it open, sensing her first hint of uncertainty. “This isn’t a date, Raya. The only expectation I have is a wet pussy.” She laughs a little, low and throaty. “Well, I did ask for impersonal, I guess.” “You got it.” I hang up and toss the pile of property details on the desk that belongs to Andrea, one of my top agents. “Update these and delegate. I want them sold by the end of the week.” Her sigh is deep. “The Georgian apartment in West London is giving me a headache.” She picks up the details and scans them. “Original features with massive potential, but no

one can see past the filth in that joint.” “Someone smart will,” I reply, walking away. “Keep me in the loop. I’ll be in tomorrow morning for an hour before I collect Georgia.” I break out onto the bustling street and make my way to my last appointment before I meet Raya. * * * The scent is a cocktail of sex and alcohol the moment I walk through the doors of Hux, with my eyes squinting until they become accustomed to the glow of light. I nod to Shelby, the busty Latino woman who works the front desk most nights. “I’m expecting someone.” “Name?” “Raya.” I pass her, rolling the ache away from my damn shoulder. “She’s already here.” I stop and glance down at my watch. It’s not even seven. She’s keener than I thought. “Where?” Her pen points past me, to the door off the corridor on the right. “Lounge.” “Thanks.” The lounge is a calm space, full of purple velvet couches and erotic art, screaming sex. As I enter, I scan the space, seeing endless suited men and women chatting and drinking, their Friday night pre-wind down underway before they move into the club and get on with their real wind down. It’s the usual scene, nothing new. Except one thing… I hone in on the lone woman at the end of the bar and smile to myself, taking in her leather jeans and simple black lace camisole. Even though she’s sitting down I can see that her legs go on for miles. Perfect to wrap around my waist. She runs a hand through her platinum blond hair, pulling back the layers framing her face, giving me a full-on view of her. She’s beautiful—flawless skin, high cheekbones, full lips. Her features are almost brutal in their impact, enough to make a man blink away the sting from staring at her. But I also sense a sadness radiating from every pore of her stunning body. Delicate fingers slowly spin a mobile phone, and as she gazes around the bar I catch sight of her eyes. They’re deep brown and look like they desperately want to shimmer with joy, but too much sadness is holding them back. She’s young, maybe mid-twenties, and that makes me wonder what could have happened in her short life to spike such apparent anguish. Sliding my hands into my pockets, I slowly pace toward her, reminding myself that she’s here to be fucked, not figured out. “Raya?” I ask when I approach her side, pulling her around on her stool until she’s facing me. In an instant I see something change in her, her brown eyes suddenly glowing, any

misery dissolving. That shimmer, although I know it’s a front, emphasizes just how beautiful she really is. I hold my hand out to her. “Drew.” She gives me her hand and brings her gaze to mine again. Then she smiles, looking almost amused. I’m caught off guard, taken aback by the brightness of her expression. It gives her beauty a new edge, a warmth that makes my stomach flip. It completely contradicts her request for detachment, and at this moment I’m glad, because I’m seriously in awe. I beat down my admiration as she cocks her head a little, making a layer of her hair fall across one of her sparkling eyes. The urge to reach forward and brush it away nearly gets the better of me. “Nice to meet you, Drew.” Her hold of my hand is tight, surely meant to be confident, when I know it’s actually nerves making her squeeze so hard. “Is something funny?” I ask, keeping my expression stony. I pull my hand free of hers, trying not to frown when the heat of her touch fades from my skin. Taking a stool next to her, my gaze remains on hers as she laughs the same deep, throaty laugh I heard on the phone. The sound echoes in my head, and I have to work hard not to smile at her unknown amusement. “I’m sorry.” She returns to face the bar, still fiddling with her mobile. “I wasn’t expecting…” She drifts off and swallows, and I notice her exposed collarbone, the path from her throat to her shoulder a perfect line of sensitive flesh pleading for my lips. “You’re not what I was expecting.” She returns her attention to me, her brown eyes now full of appreciation. “And what were you expecting?” “I don’t know.” She glances away, and I find myself reaching for her face to turn it back. She doesn’t pull away, just lets me hold her jaw as she gazes at me. “You’re attracted to me.” I state it as a fact, and she nods in my hold. “Although you’re a little older than I expected.” “Ouch.” I laugh lightly at her frankness. So much for emotionless. “It’s not a problem, though,” she rushes to reassure me. It’s reassurance I don’t need, yet for some odd reason I’m glad she’s not bothered by the years that separate us. “Then we’re off to a good start. How old are you?” “Twenty-four.” She purses her lips, nervous. “Is that a problem for you?” “Not at all.” I release her face, registering her relief. “Would you like a drink?” “Hendricks, please. Straight.” I signal the barman over and order our drinks, feeling Raya’s eyes on my profile the entire time. There’s an unease simmering within me, something alien and unsettling, and I can’t quite put my finger on the cause. I generally don’t feel at all. Not around here, at least. All of my emotion is reserved for Georgia. Yet the woman sitting beside me is unearthing an intrigue beyond how hard I’m going to come when I fuck her. It’s

unsettling. Why is she here? I want to know, but definitely shouldn’t ask. I slide her drink toward her and watch as she takes a sip. She swallows and takes a breath. “Is this customary?” she asks, raising her glass. “I mean the drinks.” “You want to get straight to the fucking part?” She fails to hide her slight recoil, and though I remain straight-faced on the outside, I’m smiling a little on the inside. Honestly, her nerves are turning me on. What I could do to her. How I can make her feel. It’s just ramping up the flow of blood through my veins. “I thought we were supposed to talk,” she says quietly, almost unsure. “Find out whether you can give me what I’m looking for.” I decide to humor her. “What do you want out of this?” I tip my whiskey to my lips as she studies me. “I’m a woman. I have needs.” Her chin raises in a display of sureness. I silently call bullshit. “Then date,” I counter swiftly, and she laughs lightly, forcing me to tamp down the pleasure inside me that the sound stirs. “When you date someone, Drew, they want to get to know you.” She levels me with an expression that can only be described as determination. And damn if it only makes me want to figure her out even more. “People around here don’t want to get to know each other, right?” “Right,” I agree, though I don’t sound as sure as I should. “So you’re here to screw with no risk of…what? Feeling?” “And to forget for a while.” She quickly looks away, a small frown marring her perfect face, as if she didn’t mean to say that. Her answer has me holding the liquid in my mouth, more curiosity creeping up on me. I swallow, beating it back. “I can do that.” I’ll make her forget her name, where she is, why she’s here. Life as she knows it will cease to exist once I lay my hands on her. Raya nods, slow and thoughtful, as she returns her eyes to mine. “I’ve no doubt you can.” I know I can. I down my drink and place it carefully on the bar. All this talking, while intriguing, is working me up. I need to let off some steam, and I’m not waiting until Raye decides whether I’m the man for the job. Getting up from my stool, I offer her my hand while scanning the lounge for my victim. I spot Karen in the corner alone, her attention on her mobile as she sips wine. The hardball lawyer is about to be hard-balled. “Just let me know when you’re ready.” I look back to Raya when she doesn’t take my hand, finding her looking toward Karen, too. “Raya?” “That’s it?” she asks. I withdraw my hand, noting her disappointment. “We’ve met. The ball’s in your court from here.”

Surprise suddenly masks that disappointment. “I hardly know anything about you.” She shakes her head, certainly reminding herself that she doesn’t want to. “Like I said, this isn’t a date. All you need to know is that I have a cock and I have ability, and with them I can blow your mind.” I stride away, my blood now pumping. Karen looks up as I approach, an appreciative smile curling her red lips. She places her mobile on the table gently, every movement slow and seductive. “Someone looks like he’s on a mission.” She pushes out the velvet chair opposite her with the toe of her stiletto and nods to it. “Join me.” She discreetly spreads her thighs as far as her skirt will allow. She’s bare beneath, and my eyes root there, all my blood heading for my cock. I flex my neck and roll my shoulder. “I’ve done enough talking for this evening.” “I saw.” Karen casts her eyes across to Raya, but I resist looking myself. “She looks a little devastated by your departure.” “I said I was done with talking.” “Doesn’t look like she is.” Karen stands and struts off, her eyes dancing with amusement as she passes Raya. For the first time, I get a sense of her height, her eyes level with my chin, though the heels she’s wearing are giving her that advantage. “I’m ready now.” Her expression is fierce and determined as she reaches for my hand and laces her fingers through mine. The room seems to shrink, taking the oxygen with it. My cock swells, my skin prickles with excitement, and my hand flexes around hers. And I just manage to find some breath to speak. “This way.” My voice is unusually rough and low, my thoughts tunnelling as I lead her through the lounge. The foyer, a sea of black marble, clinical in its hardness but decadent in its darkness, amplifies the click of her heels as she trails me, her grip tightening around mine. The barely lit chandeliers above us reflect light off the white shards embedded in the stone surrounding us, soft darts of sparking lights leading the way. I look over my shoulder as I pull Raya on, and the resolution in those deep brown eyes of hers, making that hidden shimmer break through, even just a fraction, sends my craving to near unbearable levels. That shimmer will be a blinding sparkle once I’m done with her; not forced or fake. Pushing into a private room, I pull her in and release her hand. The shift of the lock, sharp and final, pierces the silence. I hang back, resting against the door, giving her time, letting her drink it all in. The cage in the corner. The St. Andrew’s cross. The swing suspended from the ceiling. The huge leather bed. The bondage horse. Everything. Her body is rolling with her breathing, her arms lifeless by her sides. My mind would usually be spinning with plans, what I’ll do and where we’d do it. But now I can’t think past simply getting her naked. Putting my hands on her skin. My lips on hers. I inwardly flinch and blink my vision clear. Just get on and do what you do best, Drew.

Fuck her into oblivion. Make her scream with desperation for more. I move in, closing the space between us, and pull her hair away from her neck. She immediately softens before me, her head falling back, her inhale deep. I study the expanse of taut, soft skin, my gaze trailing down to her collarbone. “You ready to get completely lost?” I ask her. Fuck me, I think I’m on the way to forgetting my name, too. The smell of her is stimulating and debilitating all at once. The feel of her is electric on my skin, and I’m not even naked yet. A need in me, a desperation I’ve never experienced before, robs my mind of rational thought. Why? What is this? Every woman I’ve been with has been sexy and has turned me on. But Raya radiates a soft, almost innocent sexiness that I’ve never encountered before. It’s a powerful quality she holds, and it’s even sexier because she doesn’t realize she has it. She’s effortlessly alluring, but her uncertainty is clear, even if she’s fighting to mask it. I look at the women here and know what they want, but why they want it isn’t something that interests me. I take pleasure and I give it. That’s it. Now, though, I’m getting a powerful satisfaction, pleasure even, just from helping her escape. It’s not a physical pleasure, but a soul-deep pleasure. I feel privileged that I get to be the one that does that for her. Jesus, this woman is stimulating a curiosity in me that’s waging a war in my head. That little slip-up of hers in the bar has my mind spinning. What does she want to forget? Why doesn’t she want a man to get to know her? And, more significantly, why the fuck do I feel like I want to? “I think I’m already lost,” she murmurs. I shake my head clear. Get to business, Drew. Business doesn’t involve mastering this woman’s mind. It involves fucking her mindless. I realign my focus and blow a cool stream of air across her neck, pushing on. “My lips on your skin,” I whisper. She shudders, as do I. “My fingers fucking you, stretching you, getting you ready to take me.” I lower my mouth and bite down on the delicate flesh of her shoulder. Her body leans back further into mine, her head rolling to the side. “My cock plunging into your cunt.” I slide my hand onto her tummy and pull her back, rolling my erection into her arse. It’s hard, but I resist the urge to strip her bare, throw her on the bed, and sink into her here and now, reminding myself of why she’s here. And why I am, too. But, damn, physical contact is only heightening my hunger. I just want in on her body. I want in on her mind. Resting my chin on her shoulder, I walk us forward toward the bondage horse, feeling her fingers weaving through mine where my hand rests on her tummy. I flex my hold, squeezing her hand in mine, an uncharacteristic show of reassurance. But it feels natural for me to ease her, and I’m in no position to question it now that I’m touching her. Her heart is pounding so hard I can feel it sinking into my chest. Wait. My steps falter when realization dawns. It’s not her heart.

It’s mine. “Okay?” she asks quietly, glancing back at me. Her question is forgotten the moment her eyes come into view. Sparking eyes. Eyes overflowing with a craving that I can relate to. I don’t answer, breaking away from her warmth. “Stay there,” I command curtly, fighting to get myself back on track. I collect a blindfold from the cabinet and smooth it through my fingers as I move back to her, questioning my intention to cover those eyes. She doesn’t move a muscle, doesn’t object or try to see where I am. She remains still as I tie the ends securely. Am I trying to avoid her eyes? To hide the sparkle that’s working its way under my skin? No. This is simply to heighten her senses. This is me and what I do. Jesus, what’s with all the analyzing? I shake my mind clear and push on, reaching for the hem of Raya’s camisole and pulling it up over her head. I drop it to the floor, my eyes not leaving the expanse of her back. No bra. I swallow and lower the zip on the side of her leather jeans, revealing the first glimpse of black lace. My fingers brush her skin, and heat sweeps through me like wildfire. Another swallow, except this time I step back to gather myself. Deep breaths. I push my shoulders back, ignoring the shooting pain, then take a long inhale and try again, reaching for the waist of her trousers and drawing them slowly down her legs. With each inch of her skin that’s revealed, my breathing becomes more and more shallow, until I’m completely holding my breath. Her parted lips and shallow pants as she kicks her heels off and steps out of her trousers tell me I’m succeeding in fulfilling her request already. She’s forgetting. It’s beyond me why, but it makes me feel accomplished. Happy. I’m forced to take another moment, rising and stepping back, away from her, gaining some distance. It doesn’t work. The electric energy being generated by our close bodies continues to sizzle and crack. It’s debilitating, my head and body in chaos. I just can’t help but wish I knew what I’m helping her forget, and it’s taking everything in me not to demand an answer to the question that’s buried itself deep in my brain. These reactions I’m having aren’t normal. I don’t like them. But I can’t seem to stop them. I wipe my brow with my forearm and refocus my attention on getting myself naked, my hands shaking through my task. I glance down at my cock, stifling a moan at the sight of it weeping. This has never happened before. I know if I wrapped my fist around the base, only one stroke would have me gone. I’m renowned for my endurance—my control, my pace, my cool approach. What is this shit? I growl, pure frustration, and yank Raya’s black lacy knickers down her legs, pulling a small cry from her with them. It’s just a sound, a sound of anticipation that I’ve heard from hundreds of women before her, yet from her mouth it’s the most powerful aphrodisiac I’ve ever encountered. As potent as her naked body before me. More commanding than her skin begging for my touch. Almost as dizzying as the questions swirling in my mind. I stalk across to the sideboard and grab some cuffs and a spreader bar, having a stern

word with myself. When I make it back to her, I drop the bar to the floor and it lands with a thud, making her jerk a little. Placing my palm in the center of her back, I push her forward until her front comes to rest on the horse. She’s bent over it, her arse on perfect display. “Arms above your head,” I order, and she complies immediately, taking her wrists up to the hoops at the end. I round the horse, my eyes on her face as it rests on the leather pad, her full lips parted slightly. I unbuckle the cuffs and secure them over her wrists, giving them a good yank when I’m done. “You want me to stop at any point, just say the word.” “What word?” she asks breathlessly. I smile to myself. “Stop, Raya.” I sweep her hair off her face and lower my mouth to her cheek. “The word is stop.” My tongue licks up her temple, my eyes closing in bliss. “I want to hear your pleasure.” I slide my hand into her hair and fist it. “Make sure I hear your pleasure.” She nods, her torso rolling. My fisted hand softens and caresses her hair, and I take in her serene face as I tie her hair up, wanting to admire every angle. “Good girl.” I collect the spreader bar and kneel behind her, nudging her legs apart. Once again, she follows my order without question or objection. She’s perfect. So perfect. I fix the bar between her legs, adjusting it wide. The spread of her legs makes them seem longer, more lithe, more amazing. I drag my fingertips up the backs of her calves, behind her knees, under her supple thighs. My soft touch earns me a whimper, and I stand back, relishing the sound as well as the vision before me. She’s laid out bare and restrained. For me. Sacrificial. It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. So beautiful, I just stand for a while, admiring her. I take backward steps to the sideboard so I don’t lose my view, grabbing a condom and blindly slipping it on. Heart pumping, I swallow and place myself behind her, taking my hand to her nape and dragging it down the center of her back. My touch elicits a ripple of her spine and a low, happy moan. “I don’t think I’ve ever been so desperate to put my cock in a woman.” My finger traces the crease of her tight arse until it finds her passage, the small muscled ring tensing. “Relax, Raya,” I order gently, working my finger in circles. “Just a thumb.” “Oh God,” she breathes, the cuffs shifting. My spare hand reaches for her nape and massages as I continue to work her arse, her body softening with each circle of my thumb. “That’s it.” I apply a little pressure and breach her opening, making her jolt. “Steady.” She starts to pant. “Breathe.” I push in farther, releasing her neck and grasping my throbbing cock, starting to slowly work myself. My groan is animalistic, almost a growl. “Remember what I told you, Raya?” “I can’t remember a thing.” I smile. Then I’m doing something right. But I still slap her across the arse for forgetting, a stinger of a slap, and she cries out, her legs buckling a little. “Try again.” My

thumb pushes back inside her, no soft approach now. “Hear my pleasure,” she pants, breathless. “You want to hear my pleasure.” “So where is it?” I place my cock at the entrance of her slick pussy and circle it in time with my thumb. She moans. And then whimpers. My smile is victorious. Satisfied. But I’m past teasing now. My own need is getting to be too much to contain. So I circle my thumb, and then ram my cock into her slick pussy, jacking her up the horse on a scream. My eyes close and I let the sound sweep over my skin as my head falls back and my hips take over, pummelling into her unforgivingly, over and over, pound after pound, no let up, no chances to catch her breath. Nothing. I show no mercy. Yet, I am also at the mercy of the pleasure being found, the charging of my heart rate, the boil of my blood. My teeth grind, my skin’s wet, and my mind is lost. Gone. Raya takes everything I have to give. My thumb leaves her arse, my fingers crawling south to find her pussy. She’s swollen, wet, desperate. It feels fucking amazing. I catch a skim of my cock as I’m stroking her, the sensation making me swallow. Shit, I’m going to come so fucking hard. “My cock inside you, Raya. Fucking you. Tell me how it feels.” My legs spread a little, my one hand digging into the flesh of her hip as I circle her clit slowly, a contrast to the thundering pace of my drives. “Tell me.” “Shit, Drew.” She’s gasping, her hands fighting the restraints, her legs buckling. “I’m there! Shit, I’m there.” I pull out quickly and yank off the condom, my hand taking over as I spank her hard across the arse. “Not yet, Raya.” “No!” “Yes.” I work myself, pacing around to the front of the horse, and pull off her blindfold. She heaves, her breathing loud and erratic as she blinks rapidly, and once she finds me, I smile. I know it’s an almost cruel smile. “Open your mouth,” I command, and like a gift her mouth falls open. I ram my cock in, grabbing her ponytail and yanking harshly. She chokes, but doesn’t fight the invasion. Fucking perfect. I thrust powerfully and she accepts it all, staring up at me through glazed eyes. I’d love to stay here forever, watching her take me, my body in spasm, but the surge of my climax isn’t stoppable. For once, I can’t control it. Resisting the need to throw my head back and roar through it, I keep my gaze on Raya and let the pleasure rule me for once. I let it hijack me. Let it claim me. I hold my breath and slip free of her mouth, coming, my essence streaming all over her serene face, the flow never-ending. The power of it makes my knees weak, forcing me to brace myself on the horse. “Jesus,” I breathe, certain I’ve never had such an intense orgasm. Raya watches me, full of wonder. She doesn’t speak, doesn’t voice any dismay. She

doesn’t question if I’m going to see her right, and right now that’s a good thing because I need a moment to gather myself. My vision is foggy, as well as my head. I fight to get my breathing somewhere near to even, my clenched fist loosening in her hair. “Let’s turn you around.” I get my shakes under control and unbuckle the cuffs, lifting her at the waist to get her on her back without needing to remove the spreader. “Okay?” I help ease her back down to the horse as she nods, silent as she watches me re-secure her hands. Her head falls to the side, her breathing still harsh, her face covered in my seed. Call me depraved, but I leave it, wiping just a drop away from the corner of her eye with my little finger. She smiles mildly, and for reasons I’ll probably never fathom, it pulls a smile from me, too. “Nice piercing,” she murmurs, diverting her gaze slowly from my cock to my eyes. My smile only widens as I step over the spreader bar to between her thighs, stroking across her small breasts as I go. Placing my hands on her knees, I dip and rest my lips on her tummy. Her back arches, her eyes closing. I came only a minute ago, yet life is pulsing back into my cock once again. My mouth waters as I turn my attention to her gorgeous cunt. “Talk to me, Raya.” The very tip of my finger rests on her clit. “What do you want?” “Your mouth.” She doesn’t beat around the bush. “I want your tongue on me.” I push a finger inside of her, sweeping around the soft walls, and lower my face, running my nose through the hair framing her sweet pussy. “Smells good,” I murmur, closing my eyes and letting her scent intoxicate me. My tongue flicks across her clit. I groan, and Raya bucks off the horse, her legs desperate to close but unable to. I lick her from bottom to top, my tongue flat and firm. She starts mumbling what sound like prayers as I tease her, drive her insane, push her to her limit. I build her up, tormenting her with my tongue, before withdrawing, letting her tension retreat before going back in. The sounds of her crying and begging for her orgasm as I lick her out is golden. I play with her for an age, held prisoner at her pussy by her constant pleas. I don’t need her to tell me that this is going to be powerful for her, maybe even too much to take. The knowledge spurs me on. I close my mouth over her and suck ravenously, pushing her thighs further apart. She screams, her whole torso catapulting upward. I taste her climax. I feel it hit my tongue. Fuck…me. I swallow it down, the taste dizzying. Never before has someone captured me in the moment so completely. None of what just happened was forced. I feel utterly blindsided as I roll my tongue through her pulsing folds, taking every last drop of her and consuming it, devouring it, letting myself get completely drunk on it. Jesus Christ, she is delicious. Raya eventually settles, though she’s far from still, her body trembling in the aftermath. Her head is lax, fallen to the side, but her eyes are open and staring across the room. She looks disorientated. In shock. I can relate. Surrendering her sweet pussy, I crouch and release her legs, struggling to rise when I’m done. I lower my torso to her front, her face close to mine, eyes on my profile, as I

unfasten the cuffs, rubbing some life back into her wrists. “Okay?” I ask and she nods as I help her up. She’s unstable, and though I am less than steady myself, I swoop her up and carry her to the bed, my face tight with the burning, deep ache in my shoulder. Setting her on the mattress, I go find a cloth and wet it before returning and sitting on the edge of the bed. This isn’t protocol, but wiping her clean seems only reasonable since I ejaculated all over her stunning face. “Thank you.” She sighs and closes her eyes as I sweep the cloth gently over her cheeks. “Welcome.” I finish up and stare down at her peaceful face for a few moments, knowing I’ve fulfilled her need to forget, but still feeling a deep, misplaced need to know what I’ve helped her forget. Everyone at this club has their reasons for immersing themselves in this decadent pleasure pit. Some need control, some crave power, and others, like me, simply love the no-strings, emotionless fucks. The excitement. The power plays. I don’t need this. I want it. This woman needed it. I’ve never seen anyone so lost in the moment, and, worryingly, I’ve never felt so lost myself. Her eyes flutter open, finding me static on the edge of the bed. She smiles, small and lazy, stretching out her body. “Why are you staring at me?” “I wasn’t staring; I was admiring.” I surprise myself with my honest answer. Laughing under my breath, bewildered, I stand. “There’s a shower through there.” “I think I’ll wait until I’m home.” She gets up and finds her trousers, feeding her legs through in turn. She’s leaving. I realize leaving is protocol, but I have a bizarre impulse to stop her. To take more from her. To try to figure her out. Yet I shouldn’t. This was an arrangement. I’ve done what she asked me to do. Emotionally, I keep women at a very safe distance. Always have. Now shouldn’t be any different. “Welcome.” I all but grunt, retrieving my boxers from the floor and pulling them on. My shoulder locks on me, forcing my hand to my flesh to work the pain away. “Fuck.” “What’s up?” Raya asks, yet I refuse to look at her. It’s safer to keep my eyes to myself. Let her leave. “Nothing, I just jarred it when I…” I fade off and snap my mouth closed before I divulge anything I shouldn’t. “I just jarred it.” “Let me see.” She’s before me in a flash, and I’m stepping back even more quickly. “It’s fine.” I snatch up my trousers. And it goes again—pain bolting through me, reaching my stomach and making it turn. My trousers hit the floor and I hiss, clenching my shoulder tightly. “Motherfucker.” “Yeah, fine.” Raya knocks my hand away. “I’m a sports therapist. It’s not fine.” Her palm encases my shoulder, her touch leaving me fighting for breath and reason. “Lie down.” “That’s not a good idea.” I almost laugh, my cock twitching as if in protest at my decline.

“Why?” Why? Because just the thought of her rubbing me all over makes me hard. “I need to be somewhere.” Her hand, still on my shoulder, melds into my flesh firmly, and the sneaky move has my eyes closing and my body folding under the relief it gives me. “Oh God, that feels so good.” “Yeah?” My eyes cross behind my lids. “Don’t stop.” “Get on the bed, Drew.” I’m across the room and on my front in a heartbeat. Whatever she says. Standing at the side of the bed, she kicks her shoes off, and then her leather jeans hit the floor. My eyes follow them down. “Why are you taking them off?” I glance back up at her, avoiding her long legs. “There’s not much give in them.” She kneels on the bed and straddles my arse. Oh, Jesus, what have I done? Her hands, gentle but firm, land on my back. “Relax,” she orders softly, working her touch into my stiff muscles. Relax. Easier said than done. “Do you always straddle your clients half naked?” “Only my favorite ones.” Her answer is serious, and I laugh a little, forcing my body to soften. But my laugh fades and morphs into a hiss when her knuckles work into my right shoulder blade. “You’re full of knots,” she muses, grinding down into the muscle. “Stressed?” “No.” I wince, trying to roll the pain away. “Keep still.” Her body drops forward, her face coming close to mine. I peek up at her and find perfectly arched brows. Then her mouth curves, too, and her eyes beam at me. “Or do I need to restrain you?” “Very funny.” I quickly close my eyes before I can drink in her gorgeousness any more. “What’s a knot, anyway?” “Your muscles are layered. Injury, stress or sometimes simply dehydration can make them fuse to each other. Frequent massages are a good cure, but also a great preventative. It’s important to keep the muscles’ suppleness. How did you do it?” she asks, taking my arms and positioning them on the pillow above my head. Searching for a reason for my injury that doesn’t involve mentioning Georgia is harder than it should be. This woman is playing havoc with my usually stable frame of mind. “I don’t know.” Her hands stroke over my flesh, and a wave of tingles shortly follows. Sweet Jesus. “I’ll work away some of the stiffness. When I tell you to breathe in, take a deep breath. Don’t release it until I say.”

I nod and soon lose my battle to keep quiet, moaning when her knuckles work into the dip by my shoulder blade. “There.” I groan, somewhere between pain and relief. “Just there.” Her knuckles sink deep. “There?” “God, yes.” “Breathe in,” she commands, and I obey, drinking in oxygen, feeling her push into the spot, her strength surprising. “Hold it.” Her other hand reaches to my wrist and pulls my arm out to the side, the pressure of her knuckles in that sweet spot never wavering. “And release.” Air sails out of my lungs, and her knuckles are back to rolling into the area. “Fuck, that was divine,” I murmur, feeling drugged. “And again.” She pushes back into the space and kneads a few, firm times, before locking down again, pushing into the muscle. “Breathe in.” I follow her order and space out in my darkness, letting her take full control. I can feel the nodules deep in my flesh, moving around under her solid touch. “And out.” She sighs, like it’s a relief for her, too. She spends a good half hour working the area, and with each breath in and out, the deep-seated pain fades, until all I feel is pure relief. Her hands are fucking magic. I feel sleepy, totally out of it, but when her palms slide up to my nape and work the muscles there, I’m totally alert again. And so is my cock. Raya gently glides her hands down my spine and molds perfectly pressured circles there for a few excruciating amazing minutes. Fucking hell. I breathe in deep, clenching my fists as blood pounds in my cock. “You’re done.” She slides off my back and starts to pull on her trousers. “You should have one at least once a week.” Once a day sounds better. By her. I remain where I am, on my front, head resting on my forearms. I’m not moving. Can’t move. “You can get up now.” Slipping her feet into her heels, she pulls the tie from her hair and shakes her hair out. Lord above, kill me now. My dick is screaming. “Actually, I can’t.” She stills, her eyes running the length of my body, their sparkle getting brighter and brighter. “Ohhhh.” Her lips press together, and she definitely blushes. Seems crazy after what I’ve just done to her. “Sorry,” she shrugs. My cock isn’t listening to my demand to calm the fuck down, and isn’t likely to when Raya’s still close, so I face the music, sighing as I get up off the bed. “I expect it’s a hazard of the job.” “Yeah, there have been some awkward moments.” She laughs a little, averting her eyes from my groin.

I inwardly scowl as I dress, not liking the idea that other men get her hands rubbing them all over. “Where do you work?” I ask before I can stop myself, my fingers pausing mid-fastening of my shirt buttons. I just broke one of my cardinal rules. And, more annoyingly, one of Raya’s. No getting to know each other. I could kick myself when I see her eyes dull a little, the playful sparkle disappearing like it was never there. “In your words, Drew, this isn’t a date.” Her persona, from light and almost playful, changes in a heartbeat. She’s suddenly guarded and clipped. And I hate it, because I sense it’s not natural for her to be so closed. It’s an effort for her. Unnatural. Just like it’s unnatural for me to give a shit, but I’m damned if I can stop myself from caring. But I should. “Right,” I murmur, shaking my head to myself. She sighs and takes the few paces needed to make it to me. Her steps are cautious, and my eyes follow her until she’s standing chest-to-chest with me. My heart fucking gallops as I desperately search for the light I know is buried deeply in her eyes. It’s vanished, and I fucking hate myself for chasing it away with my stupid fucking question. She reaches up on her tiptoes, resting her lips on my bristly cheek. Tingles race across my skin. “Thank you,” she murmurs. The earth moves, and so does my head, catching her lips with mine, my arms pulling her into me. I can’t remember the last time I just kissed a woman. Just kissed her because that’s all I wanted. Just kissed her without it leading anywhere. I’m gentle. Soft and searching. And it’s fucking blissful. Her body is relaxed, her breasts pushing into my chest, my arms surrounding her. Where has this compulsion come from? This need to indulge in her? To help her. “Why are you here, Raya?” “The no-strings thing is appealing.” “Why?” She breaks away, and I mourn the loss of her warmth sinking through my suit into my skin. “I should go,” she says quietly. “Do you need a ride anywhere?” Another rule broken. Poof. Gone. But, damn, fuck the rules. “That’s sweet, but I’m fine.” Sweet? I’ve been described as many things, but sweet isn’t one. What the fuck? I’m not sweet. I clear my throat, all manly, and she smiles a little, as if privy to my internal manning-up match. “Bye, Drew.” She turns and I watch her go. She doesn’t look back. I don’t know whether to be glad or devastated.

Chapter 3

As I sit at the conference table on Saturday morning, the voices of my staff are a fuzz of nothing. My mind, god damn my mind, is still at Hux, and my cock, god damn my motherfucking cock, is still buried balls deep inside Raya. Every time I roll my shoulder and feel no pain, I’m back on that bed with her hands all over me. I enjoyed that massage as much as I enjoyed fucking her. I didn’t get much sleep last night, not even after polishing off nearly an entire bottle of whiskey with Sam. Sometimes in life, things creep up on you and catch you off guard. My daughter’s bitch of a mother did that. Literally. Coral snuck up on me, took advantage of my inebriated state, and nine months later I had a baby girl. Raya has snuck up on me all right, yet something about her—her softness, her effortless allure—is making it all too easy to let my guard down. That and her air of mystery. What the hell is her story? “What do you think, Drew?” My pen stops tapping, and I look across the table to find everyone staring at me. I’ve missed everything. Don’t have a clue what’s been discussed. “Yeah, fine.” I get up and collect my phone. “I’ve got to pick up Georgia.” I need distracting, and my girl is the perfect way. “I’ll be in on Monday.” I race across town, excited. It’s only been three days, but it feels like centuries. As I pull up to Coral’s house, I spot Georgia at the door looking out for me. Her little face is a picture, and I smile, letting myself out of the car. “Daddy!” She hurls down the path like a bomb, with no shoes or coat on, one pigtail in her black hair, the other half loose and flying around. I crouch and brace myself for her tackle, laughing when she crashes into me. “Hey, pidge.” “Hey.” Her lips land on my cheek and her arms strangle me. It’s all rather lovely, our reunion a happy affair, but my contentment sinks when Coral strolls down the path, her eyes scanning every inch of my six-foot-two frame as I rise with my daughter wrapped around me. “Georgia, you’re half dressed,” she scolds, taking her from my arms and dragging her back to the house. She looks over her shoulder. “Come in?” she asks me. I strain a smile. “No thanks.” I’d rather walk through the burning depths of hell. Coral has made no bones about wanting to reconcile. What a joke. I don’t know how many times I need to tell her there’s nothing to reconcile because there was no relationship in the first place. “Oh, I forgot to ask.” She stops and faces me. “Could you have Georgia next weekend? I know it’s technically my time, but the girls are going out and it’s the only weekend they

could do.” She’s unbelievable. Four days a week she has to herself, yet she still needs to make plans for when she’s supposed to have Georgia. Not that I’m bothered. It means I get more time with my little girl. “No problem.” She recoils, a little surprised. “Thank you.” She thought I’d refuse. Why would I do that? Just to spite her? “Won’t be long, Daddy!” Georgia muscles her mother out of the way and zooms into the house, reappearing moments later with her coat and shoes, but still only one pigtail. “Come here, silly.” I kneel and gather her remaining locks into a hair tie. “Can we play basketball again, Daddy?” “No, you always win.” My shoulder starts to ache again, just at the mention of the wretched game. “How about the cinema?” I suggest, opening the door. She jumps in and lets me buckle her up. “Can we watch Beauty and the Beast?” “Sure we can.” I plant a kiss on her forehead. “And then we’ll get takeout and chill at home. What do you say?” “Can we make our secret tent? With blankets and pillows?” “Yes!” I sing, all excited. I’m not faking it either. “And I have something for you.” I pull out the mobile phone that I’ve been waiting to give her. “Now you can call me when you’re with Mummy.” Her eyes, like sparkling precious gems, widen in astonishment. “Oh my gosh, Daddy!” She seizes it from my hands and immediately starts fiddling with buttons. “My number is already stored.” I point to the screen. “And it’s only for you to call or text me. Or me to call and text you. Nothing else, okay?” “Okay.” “Good girl.” Dropping a kiss in her hair, I shut the door and jump in the front, catching sight of Coral as I pull away. She’s on the doorstep, watching us, a mist of wasted hope swirling around her. * * * I push open the door of my apartment and smile as Georgia bursts in and tears through like a hurricane. Home feels like home again when she’s back. “I think Daddy fed you too much sugar at the cinema,” I call, hearing the door to her bedroom crash open and then the unmistakable screech of springs as she dives on her bed. Tossing my keys on the table, I go straight to the fridge and pull out a beer, rooting through my pocket for my mobile when it sounds. It’s the office. “Andrea,” I greet, walking through to the lounge to find Georgia has already dragged in the duvets from both our beds.

“Hey,” Andrea says, sounding a little exasperated. “We have a problem.” “What’s up?” I land in a chair and take a sip of my beer. “I’ve had to send Henry home. He’s been vomiting all over the office.” I grimace. “Nice.” “He’s supposed to be valuing a house in Belgravia. I can’t get it covered.” My shoulders drop. “Andrea, I have Georgia.” At the mention of her name, my daughter marches into the room with a stack of pillows in her arms, dropping them to the middle of the floor before heading back to the bedrooms. “I know, and I wouldn’t ask, but the seller has already had two other agents out and is keen to get it on the market.” I sigh. “Send me the details.” I’m a businessman, and I don’t let business slip through my fingers, especially business in Belgravia. “Thanks, Drew.” I hang up and go find Georgia, my insides already tightening with guilt. “Hey, pidge.” “Daddy, will you be my beast?” she asks, twirling on the spot. “Well, you’re undeniably Belle.” I sit on the edge of her bed and let her climb onto my lap. “So I guess I can be your beast.” I tug on her pigtail and she giggles. “You’re a handsome beast.” I laugh, standing with her attached to my front. “Why thank you, Belle.” I pucker my lips and she indulges my demand for a kiss as I walk through to the kitchen. “Now, I have a proposition for you.” She pulls back, her little face wrinkling warily. “We’re just pretending, Dad. I can’t marry you.” She’s just the damn cutest thing in the world. “I have to pop to work for an hour.” I feel rotten when her tiny shoulders slump, disappointment clouding her gorgeous little face. “Just for an hour, I promise.” “Can I come?” “No, pidge. You’re going somewhere better.” I put my beer back in the fridge. “Where?” “It’s a surprise.” I drop her to her feet. “Go get your coat and shoes on.” She races off, the promise of a surprise replacing the disappointment with excitement. I might be jumping the gun here. I haven’t even checked. I pull up my contacts list and go straight to the boss. Ava answers in two rings. “Hey, you.” “I need a huge favor.”

* * * We roll up at Jesse’s place half an hour later, and Georgia is out of my car as soon as I come to a stop, squealing in excitement the moment Maddie appears on the doorstep with a collection of Barbie dolls. “Thanks, Ava. I owe you.” “No problem. Take as long as you need.” “Where’s Jesse?” She points across the drive, and I spy him through the trees with his boy Jacob, kicking a ball around. I cup my mouth with both hands and shout, “Foul!” Jesse looks up and waves, taking his eye off the ball for just one second. A second is all it takes. “Goal!” Jacob pulls his Manchester United shirt up over his head and starts circling his dad, arms in the air as he chants. I laugh, though my mate is less than amused. “See ya!” I jump in my car and race across town to Belgravia.

Chapter 4

I take in the impressive row of white stucco-fronted Georgian terraces on the fancy street, my gaze drifting across the road to the private gardens that also boast tennis courts. It’s one of the best addresses around these parts and would be an amazing addition to Davies portfolio. Property around here is like gold dust, millionaires waiting in the wings for word of something coming to market. My charm is well and truly turned on. I climb the steps to a shiny black door with gold fittings, all highly polished as expected, as I check the name of the vendor on the message Andrea sent. Rivers. Mrs.? Mr.? A quick rap of the elaborate doorknocker is enough before I straighten my suit and turn on the smile I need when in business mode. The door opens. And my smile falls. “Raya?” I step back, as does she, her smile falling, too. “Drew, what are you doing here?” She glances left and right. “I’m expecting someone.” “Yeah.” I pull my card out of my pocket and hold it up. “Me.” Realization dawns as she stares down at my card. “Davies.” Another step back. “You’re Davies of Davies & Partners?” “And now you know what I do for a living.” She’s casual in an oversized silk T-shirt and baggy trousers, her hair piled high with layers falling across her face. And no makeup. How can someone look so utterly stunning with no makeup on? She owns this place? Fucking hell, I’ve not even stepped foot in the grand Georgian palace yet, but I already know we’re talking tens of millions. I’ve dealt with property like this endless times, but never before has it felt so intimidating. “You know, if this is too awkward I can go.” I’m begging, properly begging, for her to say no. This woman has been on my mind, crawling all over my skin, from the moment I set eyes on her. And now my curiosity just went through the roof. The opportunity to potentially peel back a few layers and try to answer some of my unrelenting questions is too tempting to resist. Not to mention the urge to feel her against my skin again. “Umm…” She bites her lip, clearly torn, while I wait with bated breath for her to decide. “It’s fine.” Shaking her head, she opens up the way to me. “Come in.” My heart beats harder as I step into…her house? “Thanks.” “Do you want a drink?” Her question is full of uncertainty as she leads the way down the hall to some stairs. “Some water would be good.” I need some moisture in my mouth fast.

“The kitchen is in the basement.” She leads me down some polished wooden stairs, and we step into the kitchen. I force my eyes away from her so I can scan the space. “Nice,” I say, taking in the perfectly traditional room, all cherry wood and dark marble, with double doors leading into a small courtyard. The spotlights shining down from the ceiling reflect off the stone counters, sending shards of amber lights streaking up the cream walls. Raya fetches a glass of water and hands it to me. Our fingers brush. Our eyes meet. Electric shocks tingle up my arm. She swallows. “I should show you around.” This is painfully awkward. “Sure.” “So, this is the kitchen.” She motions around and wanders through to an adjoining room. “Casual dining room and chill out space.” Three huge leather couches are arranged in a U-shape around a TV hanging on the wall. “I’m down here most of the time.” I’m down here most of the time. Not we? “Five floors?” I ask, not bothering to take notes. I’m pretty sure my hands wouldn’t be steady anyway, so I start mentally storing details in what vacant space I have in my mind—space Raya isn’t hogging. “Including the basement and attic space, yes.” Our gazes collide, and she quickly looks away again. Coughing my throat clear, I wander around, my spinning mind starting to make me dizzy. She’s a sports therapist. How the hell can she afford this place? My eyes home in on a collection of photographs across the way, neatly arranged on a console table. My feet are carrying me over before I can stop myself, my curiosity out of control. There are at least a dozen pictures, all Raya in various places across the world. She’s in front of the Louvre doing a cartwheel, she’s in front of the White House doing a handstand, she’s outside a temple meditating. I smile, completely struck by the beauty shining from her in every picture, by the potency of her happiness. In every picture, she’s beaming, whether she’s looking at the camera or not. And then my smile fades as I see the final photograph. I move forward without thought, taking in the couple standing in the clouds at the top of a mountain. Raya and a man. My shoulder jars as she passes me swiftly, taking the picture and laying it face down. I flinch at the brief contact. “There’s a gym through here and a sauna and Jacuzzi.” She gets on her way, leaving me motionless by the console table, my eyes passing between Raya’s back and the picture that I now can’t see. My frown is too deep to hide as I follow her down a narrow corridor, emerging into a well-equipped gymnasium. “Do you work out mu—” My arm brushes hers as I enter, the heat burning away the remaining words of my question. I swallow hard, flicking a look at her. She’s not looking at me, but she’s holding her arm where I just touched her. “Not really.” She nods through to another room. “The spa is through there.” I force myself to the doorway, scanning the white-tiled space. “All maintained and

working?” I ask, battling to bring us back to business. “Yes.” She backs out of the room, turning on her bare feet. “I’ll show you the other floors.” How on earth am I going to manage another four floors? “Six bedrooms?” I ask, following her back down the corridor and up the stairs from the kitchen. Her cropped trousers give me a perfect view of her slender ankles, my eyes placing that spreader bar there again. “Seven,” she says over her shoulder. “All doubles, five with en-suites. But first the lounge and the formal dining room.” It doesn’t matter how hard I try; my mind is way too occupied by Raya to pay close attention to the house I’m here to value. I barely register the grandeur, hardly absorb the exquisite luxury surrounding me. There is only Raya. This woman radiates sex. She’s cryptic. She is temptation personified, and it’s a constant struggle not to grab her and kiss her. Or to tie her down and get the information my annoying head is demanding. I can’t take my eyes off her. Can’t dampen down the constant flow of questions. She’s like a magnet, pulling and pushing me away. My heart is pulsing in my ears by the time we make it upstairs, my restraint bending every time our eyes meet. It’s going to break soon. I can see a replay of last night rolling in her dark eyes, her mind clearly not focused on giving me a tour, her hands shaking every time she points something out, her breathing labored when she talks to me. When we enter the first bedroom, I make a point of ignoring the bed. In the second bedroom, I do the same. By the third bedroom, I’m crying inside. By bedroom four, I’m starting to shake with the resistance it’s taking to ignore the fact that I have her in a house alone with seven fucking beds all screaming at me to mess up the perfectly made covers. Bedroom five I barely step foot in. Bedroom six I simply poke my head inside, and as I back up, I collide with Raya and jump out of my skin, feeling panic beginning to set in. “Sorry!” I blurt. “My fault.” She rests her hand on my forearm, and a heat like no other burns my bloodstream. Our eyes meet. My hunger turns into starvation—starvation for her, for skinon-skin contact. To get in her mind. But all that defies her request for remaining emotionless. And I know for sure I don’t need this complication in my life. My feelings right now are simply because of an aching cock and a misplaced hunger for answers to questions that I wish would fuck right off. I don’t trust women, and I definitely shouldn’t trust this mysterious, cagey woman. But is she fighting the gravitational pull that’s distorting everything, too? My God, I need to leave. Now. I start to head for the stairs, feeling the walls closing in around me, but as I pass bedroom seven, my urgent pace grinds to a stop and I’m drawn inside. The world stops happening and I inhale, smelling her on every surface in the room. Once again, my reason abandons me. The bed, the clothes she had on last night lying on the back of a pink suede armchair, her heels kicked off at the side. The burning ache within me amplifies, and my

head swims with the memory of every second I had her restrained and at my mercy. But somehow, now I realize that it was entirely me at her mercy. Just like now. This woman is stirring something in me. I hear the light pad of her bare feet on the thick cream carpet and slowly cast my eyes to the side. She’s looking at me. Reading me. Absorbing me. What is she thinking? “Fuck.” I breathe, and before I can rethink my intention, I’ve seized her and plastered my chest to hers, forcing her up against a nearby wall. Our mouths, only an inch apart, fight for the same air. Reaching up to her face, I trace the line of her cheekbone, her gaze seeping into mine. My world stills, like those moments of frozen time when you can see with perfect clarity every tiny thing before you. When you can appreciate its beauty and marvel at the details. I raise my forearms and rest them on the wall on either side of her head, caging her in, my body pushing into hers a little bit more. “Your eyes,” I whisper, searching them as she searches mine. “They were alive when I had you in that room.” That’s what was missing when I first saw her at the bar. Life. Perhaps even purpose. “You didn’t just want what I could give you. You wanted me. You want me now, too.” I can’t ignore the blinding sparkle in her gaze. They’re alive. She nods as she breathes heavily in my face. “You were supposed to be cold.” “Did I make you forget?” “Yes.” “Then I did half my job.” My eyes scan her face, taking their time. “Can you forgive me for failing on the other half of our deal?” “I don’t know.” “Why?” “I was at Hux to avoid the complications of feelings. To get lost for a while without worrying about trust. I had planned on being just as cold and emotionless as I requested, but I couldn’t. Not with you. You weren’t supposed to be so amazing.” “The sex?” “No. Just…amazing. You…” She swallows and looks away, forcing me to nuzzle her face back toward mine. “Tell me,” I demand, needing to hear it. Needed confirmation that I wasn’t alone in that room. That I’m not alone in this madness. “You cared. You were tender through the roughness. Considerate. You made me feel like the world began and ended with me. I didn’t want any of that. But I liked it.” It wasn’t something I could help. “And why didn’t you want any of those things, Raya?” She shakes her head, her eyes dull, and I want to roar my frustration. And suddenly

scared that my question might erase the shine of her gaze completely, I push my mouth to hers. It’s time for her to forget again, and for now I’m prepared to help her. Just for now, but I make a silent oath to myself. I will find out what this woman’s story is, if it’s the last thing I do. As soon as our tongues meet, my mind is lost. Reason is lost. Everything is lost. All of it blown away in a breeze of this woman’s breath. She’s crawling up my body in a heartbeat, her hands in my hair, fisting and pulling impatiently. My feet lead me to the bed, urgency blinding me, need pulsing through my veins. I can see nothing, feel nothing, sense nothing, except her. Rules vanish. Sense abandons me. Questions vanish. Craving controls me. And Raya is with me one hundred percent. I kiss her like I mean it. I relish the contact of our mouths and find a new kind of passion. A passion that’s not part of the process of getting laid, but part of a burning need I’ve never experienced. To be close to a woman. The deep connection of our mouths, the amazing taste of her, the duel of our tongues—soft and slow, but still battling. This kiss is everything. My hands fight to get her naked while she reciprocates, our hands and arms getting all tangled up in the urgency to get our clothes off. She tries to lift my shirt over my head without unfastening all of the buttons, and my head gets all caught up in the material. “Fuck,” I curse, yanking at the sides, the buttons popping off. I take a breath to find some reason, to find the patience to get naked without trashing my entire suit. But there is no reason. Raya laughs as I tear my trousers open and she virtually rips them down my legs, taking my boxers, socks and shoes with them. And once we’re both bare, she reaches for my cock, the pad of her thumb massaging over the silver ring pierced through the head. I swallow repeatedly, pushing her back down to the bed. Her body landing on the mattress makes her scent waft up from the bedding, hitting my nose and heightening my senses. Her legs spread, and I fall between her thighs, taking her mouth. The tip of my cock skims her entrance, and the sensation sends me crazy, my kiss hardening. With a quick shift of my hips, I’m inside her, ramming forward with urgency. “Fuck,” I bark into her mouth, growling through my moan, falling to pieces above her when her hips roll up and take me completely. I’m forced to take a moment, my body stilling, but my tongue continues to explore. Raya’s long legs curl around my hips, and she breaks our kiss, arching and throwing her head back. My mouth slides down to her neck, biting and sucking, desperate for more of her. I’m so snug inside of her that even the slightest of movements feels so sensitive as her busy hands roam my back. This. This feels like something in me has been missing for too long. As I circle my tongue over her throat, I brace myself for the first stroke, easing my cock from her warmth. Raya’s moan forces me away from her neck, her arms tossed back on the pillow searching for something to hold. Reaching up, I lay my hands in hers and let

her grip me with an unthinkable force, her fingers laced through mine. Glazed eyes watch me as I hold myself at her opening, fighting the magnetic pull trying to haul me back inside. She’s panting, her flawless skin glowing, her eyes kicking off sparks. “How did this happen?” How? She bewitches me, that’s how. “Stop questioning it.” I sink back into her pussy, blind drunk on her, and she jacks up off the bed, her hands squeezing mine firmer still. One grind of my hips has her moaning. Two has her shaking. Three has her screaming to the ceiling. Sealing our mouths, I allow my body’s demand to take over. And it wants to flow easily in and out of her, each withdrawal measured, each advance accurate. Each moan deafening. Each kiss mind-blanking. What is this madness? Every stroke is painful in its intensity, but it hurts so fucking good. Eyes open, I kiss her softly, matching my painstaking pace, watching her climax building in the darkening of her eyes. I don’t need to ask if she’s ready. There are too many signs—her tensing muscles, those eyes so wild, her skin wet with sweat, the force of her hands in mine, the pull of her warm, slick pussy hauling me in deeper and deeper. I stare down at her dazed face, keeping the rhythm consistent, unwilling to lose the incredible sight of her release. “Come,” I order, and she does, her face contorting with pleasure as she yells, her body shaking against me violently. The vision alone drags me into the depths of indulgence like I’ve never experienced before in my life, my body rolling, my cock surging, my jaw aching with tension as I fight my way through it. I gasp, my head hanging as the room spins around me, distorting everything. Everything except her face. She’s struggling for breath, staring up at me in wonder. “I’m not looking for a relationship.” Her words are solid, if a little from left field. I nod, accepting. “Neither am I.” She smiles, and the sight is dizzying. “So, Mr. Davies, how much is my house worth?” “I haven’t got a fucking clue,” I admit. I took nothing in. Only her. She laughs, her head thrown back. Her move offers up a neck that no man could ignore. My mouth drops and kisses the taut flesh, all the way up to her chin, and her hands come around to my back, pulling me down. She sustains my weight, and as soon as I’m settled, my mind spirals out of control trying to process what the hell just happened. Truth is, I haven’t got a fucking clue about that either. An instinct I never knew I had just captured me completely and took me way off course, and I’m at a loss for what that means. I was compelled to be soft. Gentle. Loving? I suddenly feel suffocated rather than cozy with my face burrowed against her neck. Did I just make love to a woman? The question should have me jumping off the bed in a panic, yet I can’t bring myself to lose the warmth of her body against mine. Even the

simple task of pulling away takes too much willpower. She looks up at me, worried. “You all right?” “Yeah.” I smile a little in an instinctive attempt to ease her. And maybe myself, too. I think I just made love to a woman. I don’t make love to women. I don’t gaze into their eyes. I don’t sink my nose into their skin and try to store their scent. Shit, this is getting scarier by the minute, and though I have the sense to halt it all, that sense is being buried by something stronger. More powerful. Her. On a deep inhale, I start the challenging task of getting up, retrieving my trousers from the floor and pulling them on. I look down at my shirt when my fingers slip over the material, searching for the buttons. No buttons. I shrug on the ruined shirt anyway, then find Raya’s already completely dressed and retying her hair. Just seeing her doing something so simple makes my knees wobble. “I didn’t use a condom.” Never, not ever, have I taken a woman without protection. “I’m on the pill. And I’m clean, if that’s your next question.” “It wasn’t, actually,” I admit. My head is full, but with all the wrong shit. “I was thinking how amazing it felt.” Her smile is almost shy, and I wonder if she realizes what’s just happened. “Quite a contrast to last night.” I laugh under my breath. She has no idea. “I’m going to have another quick look around,” I tell her, backing away. “Probably best I go on my own.” She grins, and I struggle to hold back my own. “Meet you in the kitchen?” “Sure.” Raya bites her lip, yet I know it’s not purposely seductive. She doesn’t need to try. She is just effortlessly sexy, and that’s just one of the things I find so attractive about her. As well as her brutal beauty and the fact that she’s found feelings in me that I never knew existed. I groan under my breath and force myself out of her room, rubbing circles into my temples as I go. I feel so stressed. Blindsided. Because I don’t think I’ve ever enjoyed sex so much in my life. Simple, straightforward sex, no added kink. I didn’t even know I had it in me. I spend a good half hour doing what I actually came here to do. But my mind is constantly in her bedroom with her beneath me. Looking, feeling, touching, consuming. When I get back to the kitchen, Raya’s flicking through a magazine with a cup of tea in her hand. Such a simple thing, but so fucking sexy. She smiles and sets her mug down, pushing the magazine away. “Well?” “It’s amazing, Raya. Most of the others on this row have been converted into apartments in recent years. This is one of only two left that are still in their original state. It’s a pretty perfect setup for someone who has the money.” She laughs that throaty laugh, and the sound prickles at my sensitive skin. “So it’s

sellable?” “I have a number of businessmen on my books looking for something along these lines. Is there a mortgage on it?” She shakes her head, and I breathe out my disbelief as I take a stool opposite her. “Raya, do you realize how much money you’re sitting on here?” “Well, no, since you’ve not told me how much it’s worth.” She raises cute eyebrows and takes a sip of her tea. She’s being coy. I know she’s had other agents here. She’s aware of exactly how much of a treasure chest she’s sitting in. “Thirty million, easy. I’d push for thirty-five. It’s in amazing condition, all tasteful, and all the major stuff is taken care of—windows, electric, heating, kitchen, and bathrooms. Someone could move in and not spend a penny.” My valuation isn’t a surprise to her, like I knew it wouldn’t be. “Your fee?” she asks. I just manage to stop myself from declaring my services would be free if I got to lose myself in her all over again. “It’s negotiable.” “Then let’s negotiate.” She clasps her hands together and tilts her head. “Hit me with your best offer.” My smile hurts my cheeks. She’s fucking adorable. “Three percent.” She scowls. It’s terribly fake. “One.” I laugh. “I like you, Raya, but not that much.” That’s a blatant lie. “Two.” “Done.” She offers her hand on a smile. “Pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Davies.” I shake my head in wonder, taking her hand. “I’ll have the contact drawn up.” “Okay.” Her eyes fall to my lips. And mine to hers. Our hands are still fused together. My skin is molten, my heart at odds with my mind. There’s only a few feet between our knees. Then that space is suddenly filled, both of us launching off our stools and crashing into each other—bodies and mouths. Her lips, still swollen, tackle mine with a force I’ve never known. A desperate force. I have her on the worktop in a heartbeat, my body nestled between her thighs, my hands cupping her face. The energy crackles and sparks, her sounds of gratification feeding my soul. Jesus Christ, this woman could be my downfall. Could make me forget who I am. All I am. I’m alternating between being scared and utterly intrigued by that, my thoughts chasing in circles. Her mouth is invigorating, her skin intoxicating, her scent making me super alert. I’m hungry for everything I can get, as she strokes at my nape, pushing her chest into mine. I make a feast of her, feeling, touching, kissing. Frantic. Desperate. Like I didn’t have her just minutes ago.

Once again I’m lost, but the questions that have been whirling around in my skull since I met Raya suddenly return full force, and now they’ve grown—this house, that damn photograph. They’re building a high wall that my desire is suddenly struggling to get past. The man in that picture. Is that who she wants to forget? Am I a rebound of sorts, a way to help distract her? I don’t want to distract her. I want to make her forget completely. I want that sparkle in her eyes glowing at me every day. The self-admission is like a slap to my face. What’s happening to me? Gently easing away from her, I hold her at arm’s length by her shoulders, fighting to stabilize my breathing. “I need to go pick up my…” My head isn’t my own. Georgia is kept well away from this part of me, and Raya shouldn’t be any different. “My friend.” I can feel her eyes scanning my face, trying to read me, and that’s why I refuse to make eye contact with her. I move back, leaving her on the counter. “Drew?” The soft call of my name forces my eyes up. But she doesn’t say anything, and I realize she just wants to see my face, maybe to try and read me. Her small frown tells me she’s sensed my sudden wariness. “Are you okay?” No, no I’m not. “I need to go.” I turn and walk away, fastening my suit jacket to hide the lack of shirt buttons. Once I make it outside, I drink in air like it’s water in a desert. It worries me that I found it so difficult to release her. It worries me just how easy I found it to worship her rather than fuck her. It worries me how much I lose rationality in her presence. It worries me how curious I am about Raya’s life. How many questions I have, and that I won’t get the answers to. I’m fucking worried.

Chapter 5

You look like a troubled man, Drew.” Jesse meets me in the hallway, his finger sunk into a jar of peanut butter. “Do you have any beer? I need a beer.” I pass him and find my way to the kitchen, helping myself to the fridge. “Where’s Ava and the kids?” “On the trampoline.” He sits on a stool, studying me as his finger goes back and forth from the jar to his mouth. I look out the window into the garden, seeing four bodies bouncing around. Satisfied the coast is clear, I join my mate, taking a good swig of my beer. “Something weird just happened.” I cut straight to the chase. “Weird how?” “I think I just made love to a woman.” He scowls. “We’re looking after your daughter because you needed to keep a work appointment.” “It was a work appointment,” I confirm. “But the woman I told you about, the one I met at the club last night. She answered the door. And we ended up in her bedroom.” Jesse laughs. “You dirty dog.” And then the laughter is gone. “Wait. What do you mean you think you made love to her?” “Well, I definitely didn’t just fuck her.” I laugh under my breath, feeling more and more shell-shocked by the minute. “Last night I fucked her at the club. It was good. So fucking good. But it was still just a fuck.” That’s utter bullshit. “Today I definitely didn’t fuck her.” “Did you look into her eyes?” “Yes.” “Did you get tingles everywhere?” “God, yes.” I get a fresh bout of those tingles. “Did you lose all reason?” I inwardly laugh. “Well, I didn’t use a condom.” Silence. Silence that drives me crazy after only a few painful seconds. “Jesse?” “Drew…” he sighs. “What?” “You just made love to a woman,” he states, so matter-of fact. “Drew Davies just made

love to a woman.” His laugh is torturous, and the confirmation of my fears has me up and pacing his kitchen. “Jesus.” I breathe, my panic building with the confirmation of what I already knew. “She asked for cold and emotionless. I feel like I’ve ripped her off.” “Why did she want that?” “I don’t know, and it’s driving me nuts because I really want to.” He’s laughing again, this time harder. “Thanks for your help, mate. Has Georgia been okay?” “Fine. I won’t tell her that Daddy dumped her for another woman.” I wince at the very thought, guilt starting to chew at my conscience. “This woman lives in a house worth at least thirty million,” I tell him, nodding when Jesse’s eyes widen. “And there’s no mortgage on it.” “It’s definitely hers?” “I’ve checked the title deeds. It’s hers.” I did that the second I left. “Fuck.” Jesse’s cheeks puff. Fuck, indeed. “She’s a sports therapist.” I roll my shoulder, remembering her hands exploring my body keenly. The warmth. The relief. The glorious feel of her skin on mine. I laugh, taking more beer. “It was fucking torture being in that house with her alone. I couldn’t slap my mind into line, and the most fucked-up part is that I had no desire to chain her down. I just wanted to sink into her and enjoy it.” “Doomed.” I look up at my friend. “Huh?” “You’re doomed, Drew.” Jesse gets up and screws on the lid of his jar, wandering across to the fridge and putting it on the shelf inside. “Feeling crazy?” “Insane.” He grins, resting back on the worktop with his big arms folded across his big chest. I have to admit, considering the guy is in his mid-forties, he’s fucking prime. “Feels kind of good, doesn’t it? And scary.” “More scary,” I admit, just as Ava breezes through the door, her breaths short, her cheeks pink. “What’s scary?” she questions, fetching a bottle of water from the fridge. Jesse swoops in and mauls her for a few annoying moments, as she wriggles in his arms. “Love. Love is scary.” He wraps his forearms around her shoulders and hauls her back into his chest. I smile. Their love is as potent and rich today as it was eight years ago. It was both pure and devastatingly toxic, raided by challenges, but here they are as strong as ever.

And then my smile falls when I register what Jesse’s just said. “Who said anything about love?” “Wait.” Ava’s out of Jesse’s arms in a heartbeat, ignoring his affronted expression and low growl. “Who’s in love?” “No one.” “Drew.” Mine and Jesse’s answers collide, and it’s me growling now. “I met someone.” I admit, and Ava’s eyes dance with joy. I’m quick to bat it down. “Just met.” “And made love to,” Jesse pipes up, reclaiming his wife and putting her back where he wants her. “Drew Davies made love to a woman?” Ava gasps. “I need to call Kate.” I roll my eyes dramatically. “Okay, let’s leave it there.” Jesse’s mouth falls to Ava’s cheek. “He has that confused, insane, crazy shit going on.” She laughs. “No one does crazy like you, My Lord. Who is she?” I pout. So much for leaving it there. “Her name’s Raya.” “And she lives in a fuck-off big house worth a cool thirty million,” Jesse adds. There’s so much I still don’t know about Raya. The sadness, the house, the man. Mystery is embedded into her skin, but she uses it like a barrier to keep people out. I want in so badly, and that terrifies me. “What have you got to lose, Drew?” Ava asks seriously, fighting her way out of Jesse’s arms. I laugh. What have I got to lose? “My mind. Besides, it’s all about Georgia.” “Come on,” she coos, coming over and resting her arms on the counter, leaning in. “Being in love won’t make you a lesser father, Drew. You need to start trusting. Not all women are as batshit and deceitful as Coral.” I knew that. Of course, I knew that. But trusting is easier said than done when you’ve been fucked over. Imagine if I had actually cared about Coral. The bitter aftertaste of her betrayal still lingers, as strong now as it was back then. That’s what’s kept my life relationship free. I’m just fine on my own. Me and Georgia. My time as a dad kept at a safe distance from my more risqué choice of relaxation. Besides, Raya has secrets, and she clearly doesn’t want to share. Trust isn’t only an issue for her. “Anyway,” Ava goes on. “Since we’re talking batshit, men can be, too, you know.” She casts her gaze slowly across to Jesse. He balks. “Me?” “I’ll go fetch Georgia.” And with that, she sashays off, slow and seductive, transforming Jesse’s affronted state into appreciation.

“I’d better be off.” I leave my beer half finished. “Thanks for watching Georgia for me.” “Anytime.” My friend approaches me and rests his hands on my shoulders, holding tightly. He looks serious. “They call it head over heels for a reason.” “I’m not head over heels, for fuck’s sake. I’m just…bewildered.” “Right.” He kisses my forehead, the great pansy. “Shit, is that what she smells like?” He inhales my skin deeply, humming in pleasure. I don’t know what comes over me. I shove him away, my face bunched in disgust. And Jesse just grins. Because he gets it.

Chapter 6

I usually look forward to Mondays. Hearing how many properties we’ve had offers in on over the weekend, negotiating back and forth between the seller and buyer. Yet today as I sit at the head of the conference table, there’s only one property on my mind. Or rather, the person who owns it. “What about the house in Belgravia?” Andrea’s question pauses the constant tapping on my mobile on the table, as well as my sprinting thoughts. “What about it?” I scan my staff, finding all eyes on me as they rise from the table, the meeting obviously over. “Well,” Andrea’s head tilts in question. “Will they be listing with us? Did you get a sense?” “I don’t think so.” I stand and walk away with no further explanation, which is very unlike me. But then again, I’ve been very unlike me all weekend. I reached the conclusion last night that it’s best for everyone if Raya hires another agent, and after the way we parted on Saturday—the atmosphere awkward, me awkward—I’m certain she will. Georgia did a damn fine job of reminding me of who I am. Or most of who I am, anyway. The other part will be confirmed when I make it to Hux later this week. There’s no room in my life for anything else. I fetch a coffee from the kitchen and focus on the particulars of a new listing as I walk back through the office. “Drew?” Andrea calls. “What?” I lower the papers and take a sip of my coffee. “Someone here to see you.” She points toward the glass frontage of our offices, where I find Raya standing, her body draped in a long, black, spaghetti-strapped dress. The coffee cup freezes at my lips as she smiles, raising her hand in a nervous hello. Only the thought of Andrea watching goads me into movement. I clear my clogged throat and bully myself to life. “Miss Rivers.” She steps forward. “I was passing,” she explains, seeming as equally nervous. “So thought I’d pop in and sign the contracts.” I’m taken aback, but I fight not to show it. I walked out of her house on Saturday rather abruptly, and I know she detected my wariness. What gives? “My office.” I point the way, keen to get us away from our audience before someone picks up on the tension. Raya’s walk is slow, uncertain, and her eyes nailed to me as she passes. I’m forced to hold my breath to avoid her scent. It’s fruitless. Everything Raya Rivers is ingrained in me —her smell, the lingering feel of her touch, the unforgettable images of her imprinted on my brain.

Jesse is right. I’m doomed. I move toward Andrea’s desk and give her a quick rundown of what details to include in Raya’s contract as she makes notes. “Two percent?” she questions when I tell her what rate I agreed to with Raya. “Our fee is three. Non-negotiable.” I ignore her and follow Raya to my office, opening the door for her. “Thank you.” She wanders in, gazing around. “Take a seat.” I round my desk and lower to my chair, going to my computer and swirling the mouse around the screen to wake it up. That swirl is exactly how my stomach is feeling. “About Saturday,” Raya says, lowering to the chair on the other side of my desk. My computer dings with an e-mail from Andrea, and I silently praise her for her promptness. I send the attachment straight to the printer. “I just need your signature on a few things.” I’m up out of my chair quickly, collecting the contracts from the printer on the side cabinet. “Here.” I lay the first down with a pen. “And here.” Raya stares down at the documents, the documents I haven’t even bothered proofreading. I need her out of my office before I do something stupid. Like toss her on my desk. Ravage her. Or fire all the questions still circling my head at her. Her hand is shaking as she scrawls her name. “Perfect.” I gather them up and staple the edges of each, handing her one. “We’ll need the name of your solicitor.” She looks at me, and I quickly glance away, damning myself for noting that sadness in her eyes and damning myself more for once again wondering what the cause is. “Drew…” she breathes, slight exasperation in her voice. “I think that’s everything for now.” I stuff my hands in my pockets to keep from touching her, and stand back. “One of my staff will be in touch.” “Right.” She slowly lifts from the chair, a weightiness to her body that even I can feel. And the loudest silence falls, a million words passing between us, none prepared to be spoken. I move back again, giving her a clear path to the door. “Thanks for dropping by.” A faint wave of emotion floats across her face, something she barely contains. Anger. “So that’s it?” she asks. “Well, I’ve fucked you. That’s what you wanted, right?” My words sound so cold, just as I intended them to be. But I’m not proud. “You didn’t fuck me at my house, Drew.” Refuting that would be daft. There was a beautiful and serene connection between us. It would be a major insult if I denied that. But I know I should. Yet I don’t. Instead, I ask a stupid question. “Why are you hiring me?”

“Because I trust you.” Her answer gives me a moment’s pause, and I read between the lines. “You trust me? To help you forget whatever the fuck you’re trying to forget? Yeah, I can’t help you with that anymore.” My words sting her, her neck recoiling. “You felt something, too.” “I think the scene, the circumstances…” I wave a dismissive hand in the air. “It got the better of me. Clearly it did you, too.” Her huff of breath and her sarcastic smile speak volumes. “You’re right.” I am? Shit, I don’t want to be right. Fuck, what is this weird ache happening in my chest? She inhales, taking all of the air in the room with it. I can’t breathe as I face her. She pulls out something from her bag and tosses it on my desk, the clatter of metal on the glass top making me flinch. “You’ll need those to show people around.” She walks out of my office, her stride fast, and the door slams behind her, startling me again. As I stare at the keys on my desk, I vow I’m never stepping foot in that box of temptation ever again. My mind isn’t my own in there. Or anywhere around Raya, in fact.

Chapter 7

I’ve spent the past two days trying to purge Raya from my thoughts. It’s not working. I’ve seen her constantly, imagined her. Not restrained, but free to touch me, to feel me, to explore me like I never allow. And not just my body. She’s in my head, demanding to be heard. It’s getting hard to ignore her, and not even devoted father-daughter time is helping me. As soon as I’ve dropped Georgia at Coral’s after school, I head straight for Hux. I need a drink. A stiff one. And I need to come, to make a woman scream to drown out the shit swirling in my brain. I nearly make it to the lounge when the sounds of a woman’s pleasure stop me at the entrance of the bar. Those sounds aren’t unusual around here. But this one pierces my skin, injecting me with a flurry of emotions, many of which I don’t recognize. I pace down the corridor and stop outside a closed door. The sound hits me again, and I take the handle. I’m relieved when it turns and the door opens. And then enraged at what I see. Kirk, one of the club’s regulars, looks up, his whip paused midway down Raya’s bare back. She’s naked, pressed front forward against the cage in the far corner, her eyes covered with leather. Someone else on her skin. The pain inside me is excruciating. Unbearable. Ripping my stare from the painful sight, I jerk my head at Kirk for him to follow me. His face isn’t pissed, more questioning, but before he paces over to me, he cracks the whip across Raya’s arse. She lurches on a cry and I wince, feeling the lash straight across my fucking heart. I usher him outside the room, fumbling for how to explain. “I need you to leave her alone.” I just come right out and say it. Honesty around here goes a long way. Some men get possessive, and most other men at Hux respect that. I’m hoping Kirk respects that. His eyes narrow a little. “She’s yours?” “Yes,” I lie. It’s the only way I’ll get what I want, and I really want him to leave her alone. “I think you need to make that clear to Raya.” He wanders away. God, the relief. “Thanks, Kirk.” And then I feel mad. Mad that she’s here, mad that she’s so easily given herself to someone else. And mad at myself, because I pushed her into this. I let myself back in the room, shutting the door silently. She’s still holding position, but her breathing is strained. She wants to forget? She’s got it. I pull my T-shirt up over my head and toss it on the bed as I pass, taking a coil of thick chains off the cabinet. The clang

of links as it unravels, and then the thud as the end hits the carpet, kills the sounds of her breathing. She’s holding her breath. Dragging the chains behind me, I prowl toward her, my hungry gaze running tracks up and down her back, my palms sweating. Mad as I might be, I still appreciate her gorgeousness. I’m hyperaware, super sensitive. Pressing my chest into her back, I exhale, and her body melts into mine, fire and ice within me at war. Be cold, Drew. She asked for cold. Things only got distorted when you warmed up. I ensure her blindfold is secure before I slowly turn her to face me. Her lips are perfectly parted, revealing the pink tip of her tongue. I lay the chains over my shoulder to free both hands and take them to her neck, circling her delicate flesh with my palms. I feel her swallow against my thumbs, her head tipped up slightly. I hook my thumb into her mouth. I won’t speak any instructions; I don’t want to give myself away, so I press it against her tongue until she sucks, every muscle I possess hardening. I’m so tempted to rip her blindfold off and reveal myself. But I won’t. I refuse. I’m just a man here to distract her. A man here to fuck away whatever’s messing with her happiness. Seems I can still help her with that after all. I move in on her mouth as I pull my thumb free and gently kiss her cheek before biting down, eliciting a ragged breath. Hard nipples brush across my chest, and her hands fly upward. I catch them before they find me, forcing them back down to her sides. “Please,” she begs. My cock, aching within my jeans, is leaking. “Shhhh,” I hush her, pulling the chain from my shoulder. She gasps at the touch of the chilly metal on her skin. Smiling, I criss-cross the length over her chest, the thick, cold metal links a striking contrast against her pink, warm skin. The shackles pass between her small breasts, and I feed them down, wrapping them around her waist, through her thighs and back up to her neck. I circle once and let the two lengths fall down her front to her wrists. A pair of cuffs secures the ends, and another pair behind her, linking the chain from her back to the cage. I move back, in utter awe of the vision before me—my girl wrapped up in chains. Panting. Desperate. Mine. “Fuck…” I breathe to myself, a tremor shaking my very center. Those chains could be wrapped around my heart. Squeezing. My muscles giving up on me, I drop to my knees at her feet and stare up at her. Her narrow ankles, her sculptured legs, her soft tummy and perfect breasts. And her face, her eyes hidden. It’s a great loss, but one I must sustain. I reach up and place a palm on her hip, watching her bite down on her lip when our skin meets. I drag it softly from side to side, back and forth, over and over. Her instinct is to try to fold herself, to withdraw from my touch. The chains clink, metal against metal on

the cage, followed by a desperate cry of frustration. She’s felt nothing yet. I slip my hand between her thighs and skim her sodden opening. More clinking, more cries, and my head falls back on my shoulders, the sounds only encouraging me. One finger inside, dragged in by her keen muscles, and another cry. Two fingers, softly moulding her, withdrawing and advancing firmly. Louder cries. I hold my fingers inside her, working her, building her, as I rise to my feet and remove my jeans and boxers. My mouth gravitates toward her breasts, dividing my attention between them evenly, one kiss, one suck, one lick, each in turn, all while working her cunt into a pulsing, wet mess of arousal. Her cries are on loop, her body jolting, the clanking chains reminding her that she’s trapped. That she’s at my mercy. I lower again, biting and pulling at her flesh between the chains on my way down, and then licking my way back up her body, starting at her pussy. She screams. I growl. And I can no longer endure my own torture. Grasping my cock, my knuckles brush the metal links between her thighs as I level myself up, and I grunt as I take that first, out-of-this-world thrust. I go limp against her, searching for strength to see me through this. It comes in the delivery of one word. “Drew,” she murmurs, short of breath. I reach up and yank off her blindfold, suddenly desperate to see those eyes. The shards of light that spill the second she blinks them open blinds me. She breathes in my face, her insides hugging my cock, pulling me deeper. So much deeper. Deeper into her body, and deeper into her world. Our gazes are locked as I roll my hips, reaching for the backs of her thighs and pulling them up to my waist. Her bound hands hook over my neck. There’s so much energy radiating from her eyes, I’m convinced she must be plugged into the sun. Intensity, heat, vivid color—it’s all shining on me, lighting up the room. Lighting up me. I rock into her gently, mindful of the harsh metal cage she’s shackled to. And with each stroke, I gasp. With each retreat, I swallow. Our ragged breaths echo around us, steeped in a craving that’s palpable. Clenching around me, she drops her head back, keeping her eyes on mine, her arms resting lightly on my shoulders as I carry us toward oblivion. It’s like the calm before the storm, the center of a tornado. Silent but deafening, calm but deadly. I choke when it hits me, my skin so sensitive, my teeth gritting to get me through it. Hot cum fills her and she stiffens in my hold, her thighs crushing me between them. She rides the waves of her release silently, rolling against my body, her neck losing all power to keep her head up. Our foreheads meet halfway, our eyes closing for a few breathless moments. My breathing still shot, I slip out of her, unable to hold back a hiss as her flesh strokes my sensitive cock. I lower her to her feet, unfasten and unravel the chains from her body as she watches me, and then drop them in a pile at her feet. I pull my jeans and T-shirt on, and slip my feet into my shoes, turning toward her. She

hasn’t moved a muscle, her eyes watching my every move as I approach slowly and dip, placing a light kiss on the corner of her mouth. Then I walk out.

Chapter 8

The sky is gray as I head to work Friday morning, casting a dreary shadow across London, and, just my luck, the heavens open when I’m halfway from the car park to my office. Umbrellas spring up around me as I break into a run, dodging the puddles and people, my body instantly heavy from the water my suit is holding. I burst into the office and drop my briefcase. “Fucking weather,” I mutter, shrugging my jacket off. I’m soaked through, my white shirt sticking to my torso. “Morning.” I look up to find Andrea staring at my chest. Every muscle is defined through the thin material of my shirt, and though not shy of my body, I hurry to the men’s room. “Give me ten minutes,” I call, shutting the door behind me. I go straight to the hand dryer and turn the nozzle onto my chest, blasting myself with hot air. The mirror reflects back a drowned rat of a man, his attire crumpled, his hair sodden and falling all over his face. “Great start to the day.” I give up. I look trashed, my usually impeccable facade pretty damn shameful. Once settled at my desk, I stare at my phone, mentally warning myself not to. Don’t call Hux. I don’t need or want to know if Raya’s been back. “Fuck it.” I bow to my relenting curiosity and swipe up my mobile. There’s no discreet way of asking, so I just go right ahead and question Cole whether Raya’s been there again. I hold my breath waiting for his answer. And the air gushes out when he tells me no. No, she hasn’t. I don’t want to be relieved, but I’m learning quickly that controlling what I want is pointless where Raya’s concerned. “Thanks, Cole.” I hang up as Andrea swans in, looking chirpy. “I have good news,” she tells me, taking a seat opposite. “Good. Get my day back on track.” “The Georgian in West London. I have a bite. Young, single professional. Annie Ryan. She’s been looking for months. I think this might be right up her street. I’m showing her around later today.” “Sell hard.” “She’s an architect. She’ll have the vision that other buyers have lacked.” “Still, sell hard.” She rummages through the papers in her lap. “Here are the details for Miss Rivers’s place.” A file slides across the desk before me, but I barely look. I sent Andrea to take the pictures, telling myself I needed to stay away. Cold and detached.

“Have they been posted online?” I ask, looking busy at my computer. “Yep. We’ve had a few viewings already and another this evening with a Mr. Watts. He’s got piles of cash and impatient with it.” Just the kind of buyer I like. Quick turnaround, little stress. “I’ll meet him.” The words surprise me as they come out of my mouth. “Okay.” Andrea doesn’t question it, getting up from her chair. “Five o’clock. Miss Rivers will be at work so take the keys.” She leaves, minimizing the opportunity for me to back out. Of course, I could go after Andrea, tell her that I have a meeting that I forgot about, but something keeps me in my chair. Perhaps I’ll get some answers to my questions. Like who’s in that photograph. Do I really want to know? I slump back and drop my head into my hands. I don’t know. I really don’t know, and it’s sending me off the deep end. * * * Fifteen minutes ahead of my appointment, I approach Raya’s front door cautiously, even though I know she’s not here. I head straight downstairs to the area where I’d seen her photos and come to an abrupt stop when the cabinet comes into view. The picture of her with the other man is gone. Every other picture remains, but that one is gone. I stare at the empty space, mind whirling with possible explanations. She’s hidden it, a precaution in case I happened to come back and snoop, or she’s got rid of it, because she wants what it represents banished from her life. I pinch the bridge of my nose, trying not to think too hard about it. Yet the harder I try, the more I fail. “Damn, Drew.” A knock at the front door offers relief, if only for a while. I make my way upstairs, opening the door to my potential buyer. “Drew Davies.” I extend my hand to the man before me. “Mr. Watts?” His face is tipped up, taking in the exterior. “Yes.” He drops his head, a warm smile on his face. “Pleasure to meet you, Drew.” His hand in mine is solid. “Please, come in.” You know a buyer is serious when they check every nook and cranny, feel every wall, try out every appliance and tap. Mr. Watts is serious, asking all the questions I would expect of someone who’s truly interested in paying this kind of money. He roams the house for over an hour. “It’s in spectacular condition, as you can see.” We pass Raya’s bedroom, and my feet waver in their pace toward the stairs. The bed. The sheets. A dress draped over the back of the chair. “I’m just going to have another circuit, if that’s okay,” Mr. Watts says, casting his shrewd eyes around the high cornicing of the landing as he pulls a tape measure from his pocket. “Take some measurements.” “Sure. Take your time.” I head downstairs, leaving him to it. Back in the kitchen, I sit on a stool and pull my phone out to check my e-mails, anything to stop me looking

around, anything to stop my mind straying to Raya. What a joke. I’m sitting in her fucking house, and, like the twat I am, I put myself here. “Hello?” Her voice drifts down the stairs, and I shoot up from my stool, looking around, like—what? I can hide? Run away? Then steps, dainty and measured, hit the wooden steps. The ball of my fist meets my forehead, my eyes clenched shut. “Drew?” “Hi.” I breathe, opening my eyes while bracing myself for the vision of her. She’s loaded down with bags, her hair a wet mess, her white T-shirt sopping wet. “Raining again?” I ask like a chump, my eyes cemented to the pink bra revealed through the wet material. Nipples like bullets. Skin pink and cold. A few licks and I would have her body temperature back to where it should be. Boiling. She dumps her bag on the worktop, and I vaguely register her torso arching inward, her hand peeling the material from her skin. “The buyer’s still here?” “Taking measurements. It’s a good sign.” “Drew!” she snaps, and my stare jumps up from her chest to her face. She narrows her eyes on me, and I can’t lie: the disapproval hurts. I’ve seen every inch of her skin. It shouldn’t bother her now, and it bothers me that it does. “Should I leave?” she asks. I’m just about to tell her that would be wise when heavy footsteps descend the stairs. We both turn to find Mr. Watts has made his way down. I slap myself back to life and pull in my jacket. “Mr. Watts, this is Miss Rivers, the owner.” I move over to join them. “All done?” He doesn’t answer, and it takes a moment to realize that he’s too busy staring at Raya to hear me. Or staring at her fucking chest. A beastly rage creeps up on me, and next thing I know, I’ve moved between them, blocking his view, shielding her. “All done?” I repeat, not snarling but not far from it. He looks up at me, and I raise my eyebrows expectantly, to hell with what he thinks. To hell with the sale and commission. Good God, hold me back. “Yes, sorry.” He shakes himself back to life, the dirty bastard, and backs up toward the stairs, eventually turning and taking them quickly. It takes everything in me not to chase him down and poke his eyes out. I redirect my attention to Raya, huffing to myself, until I register her expression. She looks fuming mad. “What the hell was that about?” she asks, all bristly. “What?” “That there.” She points past me, to the man fleeing her home. With a lack of anything else coming to me, I look over my shoulder, racking my brain for an explanation for my cavemanlike behavior. I have nothing, so I go with the truth. “He was staring at your chest.” “And what has that got to do with you?” My teeth grate as I return to face her. “It was inappropriate.”

“No, what you did was inappropriate. And, while we’re on the subject of you being inappropriate,”—her finger comes up and points in my face, making my head retract on my neck—“What the hell were you doing intruding on me and Kirk at Hux?” That gets my hackles up more than the pervert who just scuttled out of her house. “Me? What was I doing? What the hell were you doing?” My temper is barely contained. “You made it clear you couldn’t help me anymore. You just fucked me, remember.” She uses my words against me, a weapon that I would say was hitting below the belt if it didn’t make me a hypocrite. “So don’t come into my life and my house and throw your weight around like you have some right over me.” I shrink. Ouch. Well, that’s certainly put me in my place. “There will be more buyers,” I mutter, sounding as timid as I feel. Angry Raya is quite something. She takes her bag from the counter, and it drops to her side. It’s kind of how my insides feel, everything sinking quickly. She’s mad at me. I don’t like it. “You’d better hope so, Drew. And maybe it’s best you aren’t the one to show them around.” “Anyone would think you’re desperate to sell.” “I am.” “Why?” I demand, unable to stop myself. “Explain, Raya. This house, that constant sadness deep in your eyes. I want to know. Explain it to me.” She recoils a little, going from livid to cautious in a heartbeat. “I don’t owe you an explanation. I don’t owe you anything.” She turns and heads back up the stairs, not looking back. “I don’t need anything from you or any other man. You’re all the damn same.” Something primal and possessive comes over me, something way past my ability to control. Not that I try to. I fly after her, catching her halfway up the stairs. She turns, startled, and falls to her arse a few steps above me. I look at her, my face poker straight. “Don’t tell me I’m the same. Do you get these insane feelings with anyone else?” She doesn’t answer, her face challenging, her jaw tight. I shove her skirt up her thighs. “You gonna stop me?” “Fuck you, Drew,” she breathes, already short of breath. She’s mad with herself. Welcome to the fucking club. I smirk and pull her knickers down, and my mouth is on her in a heartbeat—licking, swirling, kissing, and nibbling. I plunge my tongue, bite at her lips, dig my fingers into the damp flesh of her thighs. Her moans fill my head, fill the whole damn house. I give her no breathing space. I don’t give her a second respite. I’m a man on a mission, though what that mission is I have no fucking clue. The entire house rocks with the power of her orgasm, her scream never ending, her shakes violent. I swallow it all down, savor the flavor. Jesus, how did I think I could do

without this? The taste of her, the feel of her, the life coursing through me. The satisfaction of knowing I’m helping her. Her brown eyes look down to where my face is still nestled between her thighs, and her hand reaches for my hair, tugging. With her silent order, I crawl up her body until I’m splayed against her. “You do owe me something,” I whisper, kissing the corner of her mouth. A slow, lazy smile breaks. “What?” “An orgasm.” We’re all teeth and low laughter, trying to kiss and smile at the same time. “And a massage, too.” I roll my shoulder, wincing as I push myself up and help her to her feet, arranging her skirt. “Thank you.” She takes the stairs, eyes flirting with mine as she passes, and fetches a glass of water. I follow her down. “Who’s in that picture with you?” With her glass at her lips, she stares at me. “You noticed it’s missing, then?” I shrug. “You were quite speedy in turning it down.” Sadness. That Godawful sadness slopes back onto her face and tarnishes the brightness. Tarnishes my mood, as well as hers. Fuck, are there tears bubbling in her eyes? “I know what you’re thinking,” she says quietly. “Good, then maybe you can help me out, because I don’t know what to think.” “Why do you care?” She eyes me carefully, assessing. I don’t know why I care, but it seems I do. So I just shrug lamely. With my head in such a tangle, I haven’t got much hope of explaining to Raya. “You think it’s an ex,” she states. “It’s not?” She shakes her head. “There is an ex. Dean. We split up four weeks ago after I found him in bed with someone.” A single tear slides down her cheek. Well, damn. “I’m sorry.” What else can I say? “Don’t be. It didn’t cut half as deep as losing my grandfather the day before.” I recoil, somewhere between shock and disgust. Raya takes a deep breath and paces over to the cabinet where the picture once stood. She pulls open the top drawer and takes out the frame, staring down at it in silence. Her sadness saturates the air around us both. I can feel it, thick and heavy. Christ, I can’t even begin to imagine her hurt and anger. Damn her fucking ex. I want to cut off his balls, the heartless arsehole. I wander over, coming to a stop behind her. Instinct is the only explanation I have for nuzzling my face into her neck. I glance down at the photo, seeing Raya’s arm draped over the shoulders of a silverhaired man, his face radiating the same light I’ve seen in her a few times. But now he’s

gone, and he’s taken Raya’s spirit with him. “I miss him so much.” Her voice cracks, and her shoulders start jumping, grief wracking her petite body. “Shit.” I turn her in my arms and cuddle her, the urge too strong, the need overwhelming. When she snuggles, not just because she needs to, but because she wants to, I tighten my hold of her, resting my lips on the back of her head, closing my eyes and breathing her into me, just holding her while she sobs. “I’m sorry.” She sniffs and pulls away, lowering her head, as if ashamed. “Don’t be sorry.” Turning away from me, she refocuses her attention on the picture of her and her grandfather. “Now all I have left is a huge house that he left me and an ex who suddenly wants me back.” My lip curls. He can think again. I move in close behind her, curling my arms around the tops of her shoulders, joining her in looking down at the photograph. “You have his eyes,” I say, seeing the zest for life in the old man’s—something I wish I could see more of in Raya’s. She nods. “He was so wise. Seemed to have the answer for everything, you know? He told me not to trust my ex, but I didn’t listen to him.” She sniffs a little. “He told me he would break my heart, and he was right. I won’t disappoint him again.” “Cold and emotionless,” I murmur, everything falling into place. This explains so much. “Hux is the perfect solution.” “You’re going to maintain that for life? No dating, no trusting?” My questions make me a hypocrite but, God, it seems like such a waste. “It suits me. A means of escape from real life. And there are no gray areas, right? No risk of being shat all over from a great height.” She turns to face me, and I back off a little. I’m getting a headache. “Right.” “And you go there, too, so I assume you don’t want any gray in your life either.” When did this become about me? I quickly realize it isn’t about me. It’s still about Raya—Raya and her need for reassurance that I’m not going to turn this into anything more than fucking. Is it too late? I clear my throat. “Yeah.” She nods assertively. I hate how resolute she seems. “What about your parents?” I ask. “My mother died giving birth to me. My father killed himself shortly after.” “Fucking hell.” I can’t keep my disbelief back. My heart breaks for her. Who held her before me? Who comforted her and wiped her tears? No one. Because there isn’t anyone in her life now, and that thought is agony for me. Just to know how alone she is. She wanted to forget. Forget that she has no one. Forget all of her losses, just for a while,

because there is nothing she can do to forget them completely. And her ex? What kind of arsehole is he? I fall into a daze, analyzing every piece of information she’s offloaded. Her trust levels are understandably rock-bottom. She is rock-bottom. “My grandpa devoted his life to raising me,” she breathes, her voice quavering. “He gave me everything I could dream of. I never anticipated being without him, and I honestly don’t know how to be. One day he was bright as a button as he always was, laughing and joking, and the next he was gone. A massive stroke. Just like that.” I wince. “Why are you selling the house, Raya?” “He explicitly requested I sell it in his will and use the money to follow my dreams.” She smiles down at the picture, though her expression is weighed down, a huge effort. “I couldn’t live here alone, not with Grandpa everywhere I look.” “So where are your dreams, Raya?” “I’m moving to Australia.” Her declaration is like a dagger plunged into my side “Australia.” I can barely get the word out. The other side of the world? “Why?” “Grandpa loved it there.” Her soft words confirm my fears. “He lived there until my parents died. Moved back to bring me up. We went there every year for the summer when I was a child. Now I’m taking his ashes back to where he always wanted to be. I need to get away from here. I need a fresh start.” I exhale, breaking away from her, fearful that she’s sensing my unsteadiness. All of this has shocked me, but the news that she’s leaving England has rocked me to my core. And I don’t like it. At all. None of it—the news or my reactions to the news. Jesus, Hux was an escape for her all right, but only until she could actually escape. Like leave the fucking country. “When are you leaving?” There. I really didn’t want to go there. “As soon as I sell this place.” I jolt, feeling like I’ve just been struck by lightning. “Right,” I murmur. So she wasn’t mad because I’d acted like a caveman but because if that buyer walks, I’ve stalled her plans to leave. “I’m going traveling first.” She smiles, seeming reminiscent. “Grandpa took me to so many places, and I’m going to revisit them all with his ashes, like he’s along for the ride. Then I’ll head for Australia and scatter his remains.” Raya sets the picture on the sideboard and releases her hair from her ponytail, retying it as she walks across to the fridge, seemingly unaware that I’m over here in turmoil. She collects a bottle of wine, then a glass from the cabinet. “Hope you don’t mind.” “’Course not.” I could do with a drink myself. “Want some?”

“No.” That would be stupid. Words, so many words, words that are a total jumble in my head, are swirling around. I shouldn’t add alcohol to the mix. Not here. “I really should be going.” I start to back out of the kitchen. “I’ll, umm…be in touch about any more viewings.” “Can you not scare them away again, please?” “No, I wouldn’t want to delay your plans to leave the country.” I frown to myself. “Well,” she says quietly, taking a sip of her wine. “There’s nothing here for me anymore.” What if there is? I turn, disturbed by my private question, and leave Raya, the walls closing in around me. As soon as I’m outside, I breathe in some sense, try to straighten out my mind as I walk on shaky legs to my car. Fuck me, I feel like I’ve been physically winded.

Chapter 9

Australia?” Sam parrots after I’ve spent half an hour giving them all the details. He nods, like he’s agreeable, and slurps his beer. “It’s an amazing place to live.” Jesse knocks Sam’s knee, which, in turn, dislodges the neck of the bottle from his lips, making beer dribble down his chin. “What?” he questions. Jesse’s eyes roll dramatically, his big chest expanding under his Ralph Lauren shirt on an inhale. “You practically trampled a guy.” He toasts me with his glass. “That’s a fucking huge red flag, mate.” I stare at my bottle moodily. “He was a cock.” Sam and Jesse both laugh. “I’m glad you two are finding this amusing.” I’m in fucking bits here. Sam’s palm lands on my good shoulder. “It happens to the best of us, my man. I have fucking battle wounds from the cat-and-mouse games Kate had me playing, and worst of all I didn’t even realize I was fucking playing. Women do that. Make you lose your sense and perspective.” I cannot believe I’m taking advice on women from these two chumps. They are the worst example of how to get the woman you want. But one thing is for sure: I already have battle wounds. Some of them visible. Some of them not so much. I rub my forehead, trying to stem the building headache. I feel like I’m at a crossroads in my life. My next move is crucial. It wouldn’t be so bad if I knew where exactly I wanted to be. I’m forty this year, and I was content with all I am, what I have, where I was heading, until an intriguing young woman turned up at Hux and ground that all to shit. The only woman in my life to make me stop and think for a moment. Think about everything. Analyze everything. Damn her. I could ask her not to go, simple as that. Except it isn’t that simple. What would that mean? Commitment on my part? I laugh at the notion. I can’t give her that. The only female I’ve ever been committed to is seven years old and wears pigtails. Asking Raya to stay would mean telling her about Georgia. And introducing Georgia to a woman is out of the question unless that woman is guaranteed to be in my life forever, and that’s never guaranteed. Besides, that’s assuming Raya would want to meet her. She might run for the hills at the news that I have a daughter. Raya is twenty-four. I’m touching forty. I laugh out loud, prompting peculiar looks from Jesse and Sam. What am I thinking? Why am I even wasting time playing tug of war in my head? Raya’s leaving the country, and she seems quite content with that. Anyway, my personal life has no room for any female except Georgia. Back to reality. “Hey, boys.” Kate breezes into the bar, her vibrant red hair in a low ponytail over one shoulder. She has a customary smudge of frosting on her cheek that Sam makes quick work of licking away when she sits on his lap.

“I need your help delivering a cake,” she tells him, taking the beer from his hand and setting it on the bar. “What do I get in return?” He grins, and Kate dips, whispering something in his ear. Then she stumbles from his lap, laughing when he shoots up and declares his departure. “Would love to stop and continue with the therapy session, but I’ve had a better offer.” Seizing Kate’s hand, he all but hauls her out of the bar. “Therapy session?” I say to his back, turning my moody glare onto Jesse when he chuckles. “What’s so fucking funny?” “Nothing, Drew. Absolutely nothing.” He picks up a text on his phone, and the glint in his green eyes, the glint that’s always there since he met his wife, reflects off the screen. “Ava?” “Ava,” he sighs, tapping out a quick reply. “Her parents are taking the kids out this weekend.” His eyebrows waggle cheekily, no doubt making plans for the alone time he’s going to get with the love of his life. For the first time I can remember, I’m envious of my friends’ contentment. Both Jesse and Sam are still head over heels, eight years later. I honestly never thought they would find women who could handle them. And now it’s just me. It never bothered me before now. “She’s too young for me anyhow.” I say to myself. “And Georgia is my priority. There’s no room in my life for much else.” Jesse smiles to himself knowingly. “You could leave Hux behind, because I’m damn sure that would leave a space to be filled.” “I like it, though. It’s easy. No commitment. No expectations. No drama.” “Yeah, because your life isn’t a soap opera right now, you twat.” I scoff. That will soon be resolved. Raya will be leaving when the house is sold and my life will be back to normal. All of this weird shit going on in my head. All these alien feelings. Gone. “Anyway, you sorry motherfucker.” Jesse slides off his stool and slaps my back. “I have to get home to my beautiful wife.” He strides out, and my phone rings. I sigh, answering Andrea. She sounds excited. “The lady, Annie Ryan, the woman who viewed the rundown Georgian in West London. Remember?” “Yeah.” “She loved it,” she declares happily. “Offer on the table and accepted.” “That’s great.” “And we have an offer on Raya Rivers’s place.” My grasp tightens around the tumbler on the bar. “That’s good.” “Full asking, too.”

“Just like that?” The knife that’s been wedged in my side since I left Raya’s earlier twists. Harshly. “Have you put the offer to Miss Rivers?” “Straight away.” “And she accepted?” “Well, of course.” Andrea laughs, quite rightly since it’s a daft question. And the knife doesn’t just twist; the motherfucker plunges deeper. “The solicitor is already on it. Surveys arranged, contracts being drawn up.” How prompt. Anyone would think she’s desperate to leave. “Great. I’m on my way back.” I hang up, finish my beer, and drag myself out of the bar before I drown myself in alcohol. The few streets’ walk feels long, my legs heavy, my hands deep in my pockets. By the time I make it there, Andrea is getting ready to leave, and the rest of the office empty. “Are you okay?” she asks as she pulls on her coat. “Fine.” I smile curtly, my way of telling her she’s my employee, not my therapist, and usher her out. “See you tomorrow.” I put the door between us, then close my eyes and relish the silence. I drop to a seat and sink my head into my hands. Don’t think. Don’t think. Do not think about her, Drew. “Hello?” I look up and find a young woman by the door, laden with files and a laptop case, a slouchy leather bag slung over her body. “Can I help you?” Her green eyes take in my slumped form as she blows her dark hair from her face. “I’m here to drop off some paperwork for Andrea. My name’s Annie Ryan.” “You bought the Georgian apartment, right?” Her eyes sparkle excitedly. “That’s right.” She holds up some papers. “Andrea wanted me to sign these.” “I can take them.” I drag myself up with too much effort and accept the envelope. “Can I get a copy?” “Sure.” I motion to the soft seating by the door. “Take a seat.” “Thanks.” Her bags spills onto the seat, her arse dropping down soon after. “I haven’t stopped today.” I smile, small and tight, and make my way to the copier. I’ve not stopped either. Sulking. I set the papers on the glass and press a few buttons, resting my hands on the side of the machine while it does its job, falling into thought. Australia. Fucking Australia. She has no one and she’s moving to Australia. I pout to

myself. “I think they’re done.” Looking over my shoulder, I see Annie Ryan pointing to the machine. “Oh, right.” I pull the papers out of the tray and hand her a copy. “Are you okay?” she asks, taking the paperwork. I look up at her, and I have no idea what comes over me, no idea at all, but all of a sudden I’m talking and it has nothing to do with property. She just has a warm, friendly face, one that’s inviting me to ask. “You’re a woman, right?” Her frown is deep. “Yeah, I think so.” “If you had plans to move out of the country and you met a man before you were leaving, what would you say if he asked you not to go?” The next thing, I’m sitting next to her, getting comfortable. Annie laughs, seeming a little uncomfortable. “I’m probably not the best person to ask. I don’t really do relationships.” I retract, surprised. She’s a beautiful woman, and from what I know she’s smart, too. Self-employed, ambitious, driven. “So you’ve never had that spark all these people talk about?” “Not even a sizzle.” She stands, collecting her things together, smiling as she does. “But it sounds like you have.” I laugh under my breath, joining her. What the hell am I doing? I’ve completely lost my mind. “I’m sorry.” The poor woman only came to drop off some paperwork. “Bet you’re glad you stopped by.” “Sorry I couldn’t be more helpful.” Taking the door handle, she pauses a moment, and then looks over her shoulder. “I guess, if I ever did get that spark, I’d have to follow my heart.” “What if you don’t have a heart?” She laughs, her eyes sparkling. “You must have a heart, or you wouldn’t be in such a tangle.” I suddenly feel like a total tit. “I’m asking for a friend, of course.” “Of course.” She smiles knowingly. “It was nice meeting you, Annie. We’ll keep you up to date on the progress of the sale.” “Thanks. Hope your friend sorts out his little dilemma.” Little? I inwardly scoff. I see out Annie Ryan and lock the door, gazing around the empty space of the front office. I should get a grip. Next thing I know, I’ll be letting Georgia put me in one of her princess costumes. On a shake of my fuddled head, I head for my office, but I’ve barely

put one foot in front of the other when a knock on the door behind me halts me. I frown, turning toward the door…and freeze. Raya stares at me through the glass, her face as straight as could be. Air inflates my lungs, the sight of her instigating prickles all over my skin. Just the sight of her. I haven’t heard her, touched her. But I want to. I shouldn’t, but I want to. Little dilemma? It’s laughable. I know the reasons for her sadness now; my questions have been answered, but my want for her hasn’t changed. For an age, we just stare through the glass at each other. If I open this door, I know what’s going to happen. I know I won’t be able to resist her this close. She came looking for me. What does she want, a parting gift? A good fuck before she disappears off on her travels and then makes a new life for herself in Australia? Falling further under her spell would be monumentally stupid. Tasting something, a personal favorite, knowing I’ll never get to ever again? No way. So why do I reach for the latch and pull the door open? It’s beyond me, and now there is nothing between us. No protection. No barrier. “What do you want, Raya?” She steps toward me tentatively, as if she’s questioning what she’s doing. And when she reaches me, her chest pressed to mine, she gazes up at me. “I don’t know.” Her eyes are wild and unsure. “But I know that every time we’re close, suddenly things are gray. I can’t figure you out. You’re warm and cold. I know what I’m scared of, but what are you scared of, Drew?” “You.” My mouth is on her before I can think better of it, and I’ve lifted her from her feet before my tongue breaches the seam on her lips. We should talk, but this is the only thing I know what to say right now, and when her arms circle my shoulders, her mouth opening up, inviting me in, I know she’s okay with it. I know she gets it. With one arm around her waist holding her to me and one secured on the nape of her neck, I walk to my office, my kiss deep, my blood racing, my heart bouncing off my ribcage. I set her on her feet and take the hem of her dress, pulling it up over her head, losing her lips for just a second in the process. And I lose the buttons on yet another shirt when she wrenches it open, her hands immediately finding my skin beneath. My forward steps encourage her backward, our kiss deepening as she unfastens my trousers and I push her knickers down her thighs. We’re all over the place, desperation getting the better of us, a mess of tongues, hands and bodies. I pull some strength from nowhere, seize her hands and break our kiss, breathing heavily. Her unsure brown eyes soon prompt me to start ridding myself of the rest of my clothes, all under her watchful gaze. Until I’m naked. “This wasn’t supposed to happen,” she whispers. “Yes it was,” I counter, picking her up and taking her to my chair. “What else did you think would happen if you came here, Raya?” I sit down and encourage her onto my lap. “I don’t know. Maybe you’d wrap me in chains and be all cold with me.”

I can’t help it. I smile. I might have wrapped her in chains, but there was nothing cold about it. “Don’t think I won’t do that to you again. Up.” She rises on her knees, looking down between us as I take my cock, which is currently hard as iron, and guide it to her hungry pussy. “But for now I’m just going to make love to you.” She sinks down, taking both of our breaths in the process. My moan is carnal, her sigh is peaceful. Eyes fixed on me, she wedges her palms into my pecs and rolls her hips, sucking in a sharp hit of air as she does. My head falls back, but I keep her in view, blown away by the yearning on her face, her breasts beginning to bob as she works up her pace. I take my hands over my head and grip the back of the chair, letting the pleasure claim me. Letting her claim me. Her tempo is working us up slowly but steadily. So damn perfect. My heart is matching her rhythm perfectly, too, consistent and strong. She lowers toward me, ready to kiss me, but stops when I shake my head. “Let me look at you.” The vision is too amazing to give up, even for her mouth. I reach the edge, my hips beginning to flex upward into her, and her breath stutters, her hands starting to claw at my flesh. “There,” I whisper, watching her head go heavy, rolling on her neck. “There it is.” A rush of blood whips through me, and I brace myself for the hit. Her ragged exhale signals her climax, and I let my own release rip through me savagely, staring at Raya as we fight through the pleasure. She gasps, falling into my chest, the natural meld of her naked body into mine just fucking perfect. I rest my mouth on her neck and circle my arms around her shoulders, exhaling deeply as she sighs and burrows deeper into me. It feels so damn good. “Getting attached to someone wasn’t in my plan, Drew,” she murmurs, quiet and tentative. “Especially an older man who likes wrapping women up in chains. You were supposed to be cold and emotionless.” “I tried,” I admit. But Raya has a power over me that’s dictated a war between my sensible head and my closed heart. “And so were you,” I point out. “Seems we both failed. Why d’you think that is?” “You always find something when you’re not looking for it.” She isn’t wrong. I nuzzle her from my neck, pulling her face to mine. I cock my head, seeing that amazing shimmer in her eyes. Except this time it’s not forced. She’s becoming attached to me? Jesus, can a man be thrilled and scared at the same time? “You’re moving to the other side of the world, Raya.” I see utter confusion past her watery eyes. A struggle that I can relate to. “I know. And I’m mad to question my decision.” “Why?” I ask, trying to buy some time while I urgently figure out some of the shit in my head. “Because if you don’t have anyone, you can’t lose anyone.” I sag where I sit, my head about to explode. She could be more scared than I am. And I

don’t know what to do to reassure her, especially since I’m trying to reassure myself. My phone chimes on the desk behind us, a text flashing up. Raya turns and looks down at the screen, as do I. Georgia’s name glows up at us. Can’t wait to see you x Oh fuck. It’s like the worst timing ever. I look at Raya, frozen. She stares at my phone until the screen times out and goes black. She thinks my little girl is someone else, and the disappointment on her face hurts. Right now, I could be strapped to a rotating wheel, a knife thrower with a terrible aim firing blades at me. And every one of the fuckers hits me. Bam, bam, bam! Raya laughs a little under her breath, lightly shaking her head, as if coming to her senses. She takes a breath and starts to break away from me, our skin peeling apart. “Take care, Drew.” Take care. It’s so final. She’s admitting defeat. “No.” I seize her, pinning her to me, not prepared to let her go. Though she fights me with all she has. “Get off, Drew. I’ve been made a fool of before. I’m not interested in going there again. I can’t sustain any more hurt. It’ll break me.” That fucking kills. “Raya, it’s not like that.” She laughs. “Oh my God, I’m so stupid.” She gives up trying to escape and drops her head to my chest, hiding from me. “What was I thinking? You must think I’m so naive.” Rightly or wrongly, I take offense. I close my eyes to gather some patience. I’m desperate to tell her that Georgia isn’t who she thinks she is, yet I don’t even know where to start that conversation. I’m not even sure we should be having it at all, because then what will that mean for our future? “I don’t think you’re naive. It’s just a friend.” I breathe the words, desperate to reassure her, since I know trust is a major issue for her. It’s a little backward to say the least, since I’m lying, but the point is, Georgia really isn’t who she thinks she is. “A friend?” I see hope in her eyes again. “A friend,” I confirm. “Trust me, Raya, please.” And then I ask something I’ve never asked a woman before in my life. “Have dinner with me this weekend.” Between now and then, I need to find a way to tell her everything. That I’m a dad, about Coral, and the history. “Dinner?” “Yes, dinner,” I confirm. “It strikes me as unusual that we’ve fucked plenty of times, but we’ve never actually had dinner.” She pulls back, getting me in her sights. Her suppressed smile isn’t appreciated. She’s mocking me. “It strikes you as unusual?” I have never, not once, blushed in my life. But right now, I have forty years’ worth of

them collecting on my cheeks. I sigh. “Will you have dinner with me or not?” “I’m leaving tomorrow morning.” She bites her lip, gauging my reaction. I’m pretty sure I don’t disappoint her. My gawk must be fierce. “Tomorrow morning?” Jesus, she doesn’t hang around. “The house is sold, and my solicitor will take care of the final details.” Her eyes drop down to my naked chest. “There’s nothing here for me anymore,” she says quietly. “What if there was?” The words are out before I can’t think better of it, and her gaze darts back up to mine. “Are you telling me not to go?” I sag beneath her, so fucking exhausted by all this. “I don’t know, Raya. I honestly don’t know.” “I could delay my trip,” she says tentatively, on a little shrug. “You know, so we can have dinner.” Life pumps in my veins again. That would be perfect. No pressure. I’ll tell her about Georgia, and we’ll go from there. “You’d do that?” “Sure. Changing a flight isn’t too hard.” She smiles shyly, and something passes between us. Maybe understanding. But it’s tarnished somewhat on my part, because while I have all the facts, Raya does not. But she will soon. I yank her back down to me and lose myself once more. Hopefully not for the last time.

Chapter 10

Have you slept?” Coral asks, taking in my untrimmed stubble, my crumpled clothes, and my bloodshot eyes. I know I look a state, and for once in my life I don’t give a shit. No, I haven’t slept. After I took Raya home, I spent all night wondering how the fuck I’m going to tell her about my little girl. I have too much going on in my head to care much for my appearance. So my answer to Coral’s question is a scowl. She has a towel wrapped around her wet hair, a small robe on that’s not quite fastened enough; the plunge between her breasts appears strategic. It does nothing for me. I take Georgia’s hand and walk us down to the car. “Daddy, are you sick?” Her concerned face looks up at me, her pigtails wonky. “I have a headache,” I admit. “But do you know what will make it better?” I stop us at the car and straighten her hair ties. “What?” I crouch before her. “Ice cream in the park.” “Yay!” She squeals and launches herself at me, so I’m forced to place a hand on the concrete behind me to support us. “Can we go on the swings?” “Sure we can.” I lift her and walk around to the other side, getting her in the car. “You can push me.” Her nose wrinkles, and she giggles when I tickle her belly. * * * My idea of an outing in the park wasn’t entirely for Georgia’s benefit. I desperately need the fresh air to clear my pounding head. “You okay, Dad?” “Huh?” I look down at my girl as we wander toward the lake, her hand covered by mine. Her face furrows. “You keep jumping.” “Do I?” “Yes, like this.” Her shoulders spring up, her lips puckered. I laugh, flexing my grip on her hand. “Sorry, pidge. I’m a bit distracted.” I look at her out of the corner of my eye, wondering if I’m brave enough to plunge into a conversation with my seven-year-old about a relationship. It’s only ever been me and her. What will she make of another woman in my life? “What’s on your mind, Daddy?” Our hands swing between us, and she looks up at me with concern. I can’t do it. What would I say anyway? Besides, I should wait for Raya’s reaction to

my news before I even think to concern Georgia with a woman who may or may not be in our life. What if I tell her and Raya bolts? “I was wondering if I’m going to have one scoop of ice cream or two.” “Three!” she sings, stopping and jumping on the spot excitedly. I laugh and point toward the lake. “Shall we skip?” She snorts. “Boys can’t skip.” “Wanna bet?” I release her and break into what I’m pretty sure is a skip. Clearly my daughter thinks otherwise, her small body folding with laughter, her palms meeting her knees to hold her up. “That’s not skipping, silly.” Like a pro, she passes me with grace and elegance, dancing off toward the lake. “This is skipping!” “Easy peasy!” I shout, following on behind, smiling like mad at her pigtails swinging like propellers as she goes. “See, I can do it.” Georgia looks back, a little breathless. “Oh, Daddy.” She shakes her head, dismayed, as I barrel toward her, legs kicking out all over the place. “You’re funny.” I’m blowing out my fucking arse by the time I make it to her, now my hands braced on my knees as I puff before her. “Ice cream?” “Yes!” I turn and crouch so she can take up position on my back. Her arms around my shoulders, her face close to mine. I sigh and get us on our way. “Do you think they have salted caramel?” she asks. “I hope so. It’s my favorite, too.” I take us through the maze of rosebushes, leaning down when Georgia demands so she can pick one. “Just one. And watch the thorns.” She plucks it delicately from the bush and tucks it behind my ear. Breaking out through a small opening onto the path that leads to the riverside ice cream parlour, I drop her to her feet and transfer the rose from my ear to hers. “Why don’t you get that seat?” I point to the bench facing out onto the river, where swans are swimming in circles waiting for any scraps left by passersby. She’s off quickly, still skipping, still putting me to shame. “Don’t go too near the swans!” I call after her. “I won’t!” I make my way inside, relieved to see salted caramel is on the menu. I order two sundaes, one eye trained on the window where I can see Georgia on the bench, her legs swinging happily. “Can I get some napkins?” I ask, preparing for the mess that’s about to ensue. When I make it to the door, I start to negotiate the ice creams into one hand to let myself out. “Let me get that for you.”

“Thanks.” The door is pulled open, and I’m about to make my way through when the voice registers, dropping anchors into my feet as it does. I glance up and find Raya holding the door open. “Hi,” she says, her face pink and damp from exertion. She’s clad in Lycra, but not very much of it. “Hi,” I mumble back. Oh fuck. What do I do? “Been for a run?” What a stupid question. “No, horse riding.” She rolls her eyes and moves in, reaching up and kissing my cheek, her warm palms resting on my chest. If my hands weren’t full and my mind in fucking chaos, I’d embrace her, kiss the living daylights out of her, but instead I’m a statue, tense and worried. So fucking worried. “You okay?” she asks. I watch her register the two dishes of ice cream in my hands. One for me, and one for… who? That’s what she’s thinking. I quickly glance across to the bench where Georgia is, seeing she’s at a safe distance. “Yeah, you?” I straighten my shoulders and regret it. My need to stand tall and try to act normal has just earned me a killer of a stab in my shoulder. “Still struggling?” Raya asks, resting her hand on my shoulder and rubbing into it. I go lax under her hold, groaning in pleasure. “Probably not a good idea to do that here.” She laughs, soft and light. “Maybe after our dinner.” If she hasn’t done a runner after I deliver my news. On that note, I pull back. I need to go before Raya has a chance to ask why I have two ice creams in my hand. “Why two ice creams?” Fuck. “Hungry.” I shrug, edging toward the door. She frowns, eyeing my twitchy form. “You sure you’re okay?” “Yeah.” I quickly move forward and land a kiss on her cheek, another attempt to appear normal. I’m a joke. “Call you later.” “Daddy?” Oh no. I pull back from Raya’s cheek and watch in horror as her gaze falls to my side, where Georgia is looking up at her with way too much interest on her cute little face. “I’m Georgia,” she declares, loud and proud. “What’s your name?” I close my eyes and breathe deeply, wishing the numbing effects the ice cream is having on my fingers would spread to everywhere else. I chance a peek at Raya, catching her eyes slowly turning from my girl to me. Her head cocks. “Georgia?” It’s a question, one she already knows the answer to, yet she wants me to confirm it. “Just a friend.” Raya does a terrible job of impersonating me.

My lips press together, feeling so small. I shrug. I have nothing else, not even the will to be offended when Raya scowls at me as she hunkers down to my daughter’s level. “Hey, Georgia!” She sounds so chirpy, and I can’t work out if it’s faked to mask her shock, or if she’s truly pleased to meet her. “I’m Raya.” Georgia’s little face is like a kick in the teeth. She looks so pleased. “Do you know my dad?” “Not really,” Raya says, flicking accusing eyes up at me. She’s having a dig, saying without actually saying that she thought she knew me. “Dad’s favorite movie is Beauty and the Beast. I’m Belle,” Georgia announces proudly. “And Dad is my beast.” “A beast, eh?” Raya smiles. I think it’s a fond smile. “He is a bit of a beast, isn’t he?” Another dig. If the ground was to open and swallow me up, then that would be fine by me. Fucking hell, I need to pull this back quickly. “Georgia, why don’t you go wait for me on the bench.” I hand her one of the ice creams and toss mine in the bin, all hunger gone. I could do with a drink. “We’re going to eat ice cream.” Georgia points to the bench where I wish she’d stayed put. “Want to come?” My eyes go all round. “I’m sure Raya has a busy day.” “Yes, I do.” Her stare lands on me with a bang, and I flinch. Good Lord, the resolve on her face is enough to push me back into the wall behind me. “I’m going to the airport tomorrow.” “Cool!” Georgia sings, while my eyes bug. Tomorrow? “Where are you going?” “Far, far away.” Raya gives my daughter her attention again and crouches to get her at eye level. “It was lovely to meet you, Georgia.” “You too!” Georgia runs off to the bench, and Raya immediately turns, jogging away from me without another word. I stand like an idiot in the doorway, at a loss for what to do. What the hell? She’s just going to run off? “Raya!” I shout, going after her. I’ve come too far now to let her walk away. “Raya, wait!” I skid to a stop when she abruptly swings around, her face stony. I gulp, wary, backing up a little. “You bastard,” she seethes, her rage potent. “I spilled my fucking life to you. I was even considering not leaving at all, and you didn’t even have the decency to tell me you have a daughter?” “I was going to tell you,” I blurt, my panic clear. “When? After I’d decided to throw away my traveling dreams?” “I didn’t know where to start,” I admit, hopelessness consuming me. “I’ve always kept

Georgia away from the women I’ve…” “Fucked?” She finishes for me. A huge flinch, and not just from me, but from Raya, too. And then there’s fierceness in her eyes. So much fierceness it actually scares me. “Of course, my mistake.” She backs down, though her eyes still harbor a frightening amount of ferocity. “And I asked for it.” “Raya, don’t.” I can see her backing away, and I won’t be able to go after her. I quickly look over my shoulder to check on Georgia, finding her happily passing the time away stuffing her ice cream. “It’s a big deal for us. It’s only ever been me and her.” I return forward, not liking the further distance she’s put between us. “I didn’t want to tell her until I knew what was going on myself.” Hurt. This expression on Raya is the one I hate the most, and I despise myself for causing it. “It’s not about telling her, Drew. It’s about telling me.” Her eyes flick to Georgia as she continues to put more distance between us. “You were willing to let me make a life-changing decision without being honest with me.” Raya looks back to me. “Trust you, that’s what you told me. Thanks for bringing me back down to Earth.” She pivots and jogs off, and all I can do is stand and watch her run out of my life.

Chapter 11

It’s after ten o’clock by the time I’ve got Georgia off to sleep, and never has a glass of red tasted so good. In my boxers, I slump on the couch and flick through the sports channels, restlessly searching for something to watch. Something to help me wind down. There’s no peace to be found, not when my head is hurting so much. What’s bothering me most, though, is whether Raya walking away was a result of my dishonesty, or whether she’s put off by the fact that I have Georgia. Both are as equally hard to stomach. I sigh, so fucking mad with myself. Giving up on the TV, I finish my wine and head for bed. Sleep might help wash my mind clean. Peeking in on Georgia, I tiptoe to her bed and listen for the sounds of her shallow breathing, tuck her sprawled leg under the duvet, and kiss her forehead. “Love you, pidge.” She mumbles sleepily, flipping over and nuzzling down. I nearly make it to my own bed when a loud crash deafens me. “What the hell?” I shoot back to Georgia’s room, finding she’s still sound asleep. More crashes. I follow the echo to the front door and pull it open, alert and ready for what lies beyond. “Coral?” I release the door just in time to catch her when she stumbles forward. “Drew!” she slurs, grappling at my arms to cling onto me. “My baby daddy!” “You’re smashed,” I mutter, hauling her up but not daring to release her, for she would surely land on her face. Part of me wants to let her. “What are you doing here?” “I’m here to take you back.” I roll my eyes, dipping to toss her over my shoulder. “We were never together in the first place, Coral.” I stride through to the lounge and drop her on the couch, not as roughly as I should. She writhes and squirms to sit up. “Look at the state of you. How did you get here?” “A taxi.” She reaches for my T-shirt and hauls me forward. “Take me to bed and wrap me up in those chains you love so much.” “Coral, keep it down. Georgia’s asleep.” I brush her off and storm off to the kitchen to get her some water, fighting the urge to throw her out. I might hate the woman for what she did to me, but, like it or not—and I don’t like it—she’s the mother of my girl. Georgia would be heartbroken if anything happened to her. I have an obligation to make sure the drunken bitch is kept out of harm’s way while she personally can’t see to it herself. I grab a bottle of water from the fridge and traipse back to the lounge, finding Coral slumped back. “Here.” I unscrew the top and hold it out to her. One eye closed, she reaches for the bottle, missing by a mile. “For God’s sake, Coral.” I sit beside her and feed her water.

“See. You can be nice to me.” “I’m not doing it for you. I’m doing it for my daughter.” “She’s my daughter, too, you know.” It’s all a slur. “Unfortunately, yes, I do know. But I wouldn’t have, had Sam not caught you sneaking out of my apartment the night you took advantage of me.” This is weird. Not once have we ever talked about it. Not once in eight years. I could barely bring myself to look at the woman for the whole of her pregnancy. When Georgia was born, my attention was firmly on my baby, whereas Coral’s attention was on me. It was one of those beautiful moments in time, a new life born, a time when hatred and grievances should be forgotten. I could tell by Coral’s hopeful face that she thought we could move forward from there. I could move forward, sure. Just not with her. “Why does no one want me?” she whines, crashing into my side. “Because you’re a scheming, manipulative bitch,” I quip, half in gest, but mostly serious. She smacks my bare thigh. “You’re single, too. No one wants you either. Or your chains.” Dragging her heavy head up, she pouts at me. “I’d let you wrap me up in your chains.” “Coral, if I wrapped you up in my chains, I would never let you free, and not because I was turned on.” “You’re mean to me.” “I’m letting your drunken arse sleep in my apartment.” I get up, and with my lack of support she crumples to the couch with no hope of getting up again. “Should I lock my bedroom door so you can’t rape me again?” She snorts, and it’s with amusement. “You wouldn’t be without Georgia now and you know it.” I can’t argue with that. “I’ll get a blanket.” By the time I’ve found a fleece throw and made it back to the sofa, she’s snoring. “What a state,” I say to myself, covering her up, tucking her in more carefully than she deserves. I sigh, shaking my head. Then I go and fall into my long-awaited bed.

Chapter 12

I feel weird this morning. As I lay in my sleepy darkness, I try to wrap my sleepy mind around my sleepy memories. I roll onto my side and collide with something, and I smile. Raya. Then everything comes back to me—her words, her running away from me. So who’s…? My eyes spring open. “Morning.” Coral is sprawled out beside me. And she’s naked. Fucking naked. Except for a smug smile. “What the fuck, Coral!” I jump up, too panicked to pay any attention to the pain that just bolted through my shoulder. “What the hell are you doing in my bed?” She slides out and pulls on one of my T-shirts as she struts out of my bedroom as if she could live here. “Coffee?” she calls. I look down my body, cringing when I see I’m naked, too. “What the hell are you playing at?” I shout, stamping after her as I fight my way into some boxers. I find her helping herself to the kitchen, not at all affected by my fury. “You need to leave.” I march over and pull an empty mug from her hand, slamming it down on the side. She smiles, all satisfied. It’s as much as I can do not to slap it off her face. “What are you so scared of, Drew?” My jaw immediately aches with the force of my bite. “I’m not scared, Coral. I’m livid. Get out.” She huffs, refusing to allow my rage to penetrate her as she passes me. My head drops back, searching the heavens for some restraint. The doorbell is the only thing that saves Coral from being strangled. There can be no witnesses. “I’ll get it!” she calls, dancing her way to the front door while I snarl at her back. She swings the door open. And I die. “No…” I breathe. Raya hasn’t seen me just yet, her eyes set on Coral, who’s draped seductively in the door frame wearing next to nothing. “Can I help you?” Raya frowns. “I’m looking for Drew.” “You’ve found him.” Coral moves back, revealing me in all of my glory, boxers the only thing between me and stark bollock naked. I’m so fucking mad. So fucking mad, I can’t even speak.

Raya’s face is a picture of devastation, but I’m paralyzed by my anger, can’t even move my fucking eyeballs, let alone speak. As if this could get any worse, Georgia appears, too, making it a lovely wholesome scene of happy fucking families. “Mummy!” she squeals, running into Coral’s waiting arms. “Hey, Raya! Mummy, this is Dad’s friend. Her name is Raya.” Coral casts an interested look my way. “Daddy’s friend, huh?” Raya’s eyes meeting mine. The shock and hurt are rife. And there are tears. Fucking tears, caused by me. I want to stab myself repeatedly. “I’m sorry,” she chokes. “I shouldn’t have come.” She turns quickly on her flip-flops and darts away. The door slamming snaps me back to life, followed by Georgia sprinting off into the kitchen in search of Coco Pops. I can’t see straight for the red mist sliding down my vision. I can’t breathe past the anger filling my lungs. “She seemed nice,” Coral says flippantly, slinking past me. I reach for her arm, grabbing it harshly. She’s pushed me too far. Drained me of patience. I turn burning eyes onto her. “I fucking hate you.” I keep my voice low, mindful that Georgia is in the next room. I’ve sustained my civility for seven years in the presence of my little girl. I’m not about to change that now, no matter how much I’m seething. “I’m sorry; shouldn’t I have answered the door?” Her face is so smug. “Get out.” “Oh my God.” She laughs, cold and cruel, yanking her arm from my grip and pointing to the door. “You mean to tell me you have feelings for her?” Her grin is sly. Cunning. She knew exactly what she was doing at that front door. “Why the hell would she want you?” she asks. “All you know what to do is fuck. And what is she, twenty?” More laughter. “Jesus, Drew. Any younger and you’ll be dating Georgia’s school friends.” “Shut up, Coral.” “Besides, she’s going to Australia.” I recoil, alert. “How do you know that?” She shrugs, like it’s of no consequence. “She texted you. I might have answered for you.” My mouth drops open. “You did what?” I race to the bedroom to find my phone, frantically pulling up the messages. And there it is, a message from Raya telling me how sorry she is for her reaction, but she was shocked. She asks if we can talk. And I answer telling her to come over. She came here with hope. To try and fix things. And she got a strong dose of Coral instead. Rage. I turn and find Coral in the bedroom with me, a slap-worthy satisfied look on her face. God help me before I throttle her. I pace over, my nostrils flaring, and push my face close to hers. “Get the fuck out before I throw you out.”

“Fine.” “And take Georgia.” I turn and head for the bathroom, mentally planning what I need to do. Coral being here has served like a detoxing scrub on my life. Backward, yes, given she’s the most toxic woman I’ve met. But it’s clarity amid my chaos. I’m such a fool! I’m so set in my ways, they’ll bury me with my fucking chains. Chains that are now wrapped around my heart and being tightened by the second. I need to find Raya. I need to spill my heart. I need to stop stalling. God, what must she think? Secret daughter, secret woman. “I can’t take Georgia,” Coral declares, stopping me at the bathroom door. “I have things to do.” She pulls on her dress and snatches up her bag. She doesn’t have things to do. She’s trying to hamper my rescue attempt. “Coral, please.” I’m not past begging at this point. I need to fix this fuckup, and I can’t very well do that with Georgia in tow. She smiles, tight and condemning. “Bye.” “I hate you,” I seethe, thumping the doorframe. “Why change the habit of a lifetime?” Off she goes, the fucking bitch. The doorframe receives another thump at the same time the front door slams. “Urghhhhh!” I dash out to the kitchen to find Georgia drowning in Coco Pops, the bowl overflowing. She yelps as I lift her from the stool, the spoon hanging out of her mouth. “Daddy!” Chocolate milk leaves a trail behind us as I cart her out of the kitchen to the bathroom. “Daddy, what are you doing?” “We’re going on an adventure.” I plonk her on her feet and flip the shower on. “An adventure?” She’s excited before she even knows where this adventure is taking us. “What kind?” I put her in the shower, squirt some shampoo into her hair and start lathering it up. Her innocence is beautiful, a light in my dark world. Grabbing a towel, I wrap her up and get down to her face level. “Remember Raya?” I ask. “Your friend?” “Yes, but I don’t just want to be her friend.” I take a quick drag of air, bracing myself to spill the deal. “I want to be her boyfriend.” I feel like I’ve just confessed a sin. Georgia’s face is totally blank. What’s she thinking? “You love her?” Love? I sigh, my eyes drifting from hers for a moment, as I think. Real hard. Is that what this is? The pain, the constant mixed-up state I’m in? The possessiveness, the wild reactions? Good God, I’m in love? “Yeah,” I whisper, pulling it all together, each piece clicking into place like an important part of the puzzle. “I think I do.” I return my attention to my little girl, praying she will accept this. Georgia’s face is a picture of shock. I can’t blame her. Daddy’s never had a girlfriend. I

take the tops of her arms, holding her tightly. “Pidge, this won’t change anything. You’ll still be number one.” “But there will be Raya, too.” “Well, maybe.” That’s if she’ll even listen to me. Give me a chance to explain, and then I have to stop her leaving. That’s what I’m most worried about. That she’ll go anyway, regardless of my desperate attempt to stop her. As I look at my daughter, I see something building, and just when I’m certain she’s about to start crying on me, she literally bursts. “Quick!” she darts out of the bathroom, her speed unreal. “We need to find Raya and tell her you love her!” There are a collection of bangs and clatters, all drawers being pulled open and shoved shut. “I’ll wear a pretty dress!” If I had time, I would cry with relief. But I don’t. So I match my girl’s urgency and rush to the shower. Within ten minutes, I’m racing around my apartment getting dressed on the move, searching for my keys. “Georgia, have you seen Daddy’s keys?” “Nope!” “Damn it!” I turn out every drawer in my kitchen until I lay my hands on the spare set. “Let’s go.” By the time we’ve made it down to the garage, I’m sweating. I hurry us across to my parking space, my parking space that’s minus my car. It takes a split second to figure out where it is. “No!” I yell, stomping over and standing where my car should be, circling, looking down, like I might find my Merc in one of the cracks in the concrete. “I can’t believe that woman!” I pull my phone out and dial Coral, turning away from Georgia’s alarmed face and hunkering, making my voice quiet and low, but I’m barely keeping my violence leashed. “You took my car,” I hiss when she answers. “Planning on going somewhere?” The strength of my grip around my phone would cut off her breathing in seconds if I had hold of her neck. I so wish I had hold of her neck. “You’re evil, Coral.” “Oh, get over it. I’m doing you a favor.” I hang up before I wreck seven years’ worth of effort to keep my hatred for Georgia’s mother contained when she’s around. Then I put in an emergency call. “Jesse, I need a favor.” * * * Half an hour later, Sam pulls up in his Porsche, roof down with Jesse in the passenger seat. Georgia races over to the car, beside herself with excitement. “Uncle Jesse! Uncle Sam! We’re going on an adventure to find Raya and tell her Daddy loves her!” That’s twice in two days I’ve blushed. “How exciting!” Sam jumps out and pulls the seat forward for Georgia to climb in.

“Don’t take the piss,” I mutter, following her into the backseat and buckling her up. Sam’s back in the driver’s seat quickly and zooming out onto the main road. “This is exciting.” Jesse cranes his neck back, getting Georgia in his sights. “Daddy’s in love!” My intention to snarl at him is interrupted when Sam takes a corner fast, forcing me to grab his head rest. “Jesus, Sam, calm down. Georgia’s in the damn car.” “Faster!” she chants. “Yeah, faster!” Jesse laughs, arms up in the air. “Like this, Georgia!” Her laughter, a laughter that under normal circumstances would make my heart swell, just amplifies my anxiety. My heart isn’t able to swell, because it’s currently chained in my chest, and the only person who holds the key to free it, to let it pulse again for anything more than just Georgia, might have given up trying to unlock it. And that would be the end of me. Like the final nail in a coffin that’s kept me safe for so long. I don’t want to be safe anymore. I don’t want to be alone. I want Raya. “Dad.” Georgia smacks my knee, at the same time smacking me from my everincreasing despondency. “Uncle Sam is talking to you.” I look up to the rearview mirror. “What?” “Where to?” “Where to?” I parrot, rummaging through my head for Raya’s address. “Belgravia.” “And what’s the plan?” Jesse turns back to face me. “The plan?” “Jesus, it’s worse than I thought.” He sighs, rubbing at his forehead. “What are you going to say to her? The poor woman thinks you’re shacked up with Coral and a kiddie.” “What’s shacked up?” Georgia asks as my palms land over her ears, protecting her from the adult conversation. I toss Jesse a dark look. “Please, I feel like I’m scarring her for life enough already.” He rolls his eyes. “So what are you going to say?” “I’m going to tell her not to leave.” “Yeah, she might need a little more than that.” “I’m going to tell her that I like her. A lot.” His hands motion in circles, like I should continue, except I don’t know where to go next. My powers of persuasion will be limited with Georgia around. I won’t be able to talk about our connection, our chemistry, or the amazing sex. How her hands are like pokers on my skin every time she touches me. How my mind is constantly on her, imaging her in every position, including in my bed every single night. How she lightens my life beyond Georgia. How she makes me a better man, how I just know she can wholeheartedly trust

me. How she can depend on me. How I promise to take care of her forever. How she’s given me a new purpose. “Cry,” Sam says over his shoulder. “Chicks dig it when a man cries over them.” I balk, appalled by the suggestion. “That ain’t happening.” Jesse laughs, deep and rich. “Have you ever shed a tear?” “No.” I wriggle in my seat, uncomfortable with the tiny stabs of something at the back of my eyes. * * * I’m literally quaking when Sam rolls up outside Raya’s place. I still have no idea how to convince her to stay, convince her that I’m worth her trust and effort. Sam whistles as he gazes up at the impressive property, and Jesse lifts his shades to get a better look, while Georgia is standing on the back seat staring in awe. “Does she have more money than you, Dad?” “And cue the balls shrinking,” Sam breathes. “Balls shrinking?” Georgia asks, utterly confused. “Balls can’t shrink, Uncle Sam.” She starts chuckling. “Silly!” I give up, smacking the back of Sam’s head before swinging my body over the edge of the car. “Wait here.” I pace the street, my stare glued to the SOLD board displayed outside. I’ve never felt so vulnerable. So hopeful and hopeless. A huge part of my brain is trying to scare me off, yelling at me that I’m wasting my time, that she won’t even entertain my explanations. But I beat back the fear and worry, and cling to the fraction of hope, raising my hand to knock the door. I nearly fall through the damn thing when a man swings it open. “Who the hell are you?” I blurt before I can stop myself, aware of the aggression in my stance and tone. Never mind that this could well be Raya’s solicitor, or maybe even just a friend. I haven’t got the strength for patience. “That’s none of your damn business.” His expression is fierce, his chest puffy and threatened. His hostility tells me he is neither of those things. Wait. Please tell me this isn’t her scumbag ex. The fucker who crapped all over her? I look past him, seeing stacks of boxes in the hallway, pictures off the walls, garbage bags piled high. “Are you Dean?” Hands up, he reverses his steps. “I don’t know who you are, but I don’t want any trouble.” He’s changed his tune. Must be the sudden angry twitching of my body. “Where’s Raya?” I ask, dangerous and low, fighting to keep my hands by my sides to stop them from smashing his face in. “She’s gone.” I react on impulse, reaching forward and fisting his shirt in my hands, yanking him out

of Raya’s house. “So what are you doing here?” “I needed to know where she’s going.” What? To try and win her back? Oh no. Patience completely gone, I lose the plot, shoving him away and swinging at him. My fist connects clean with his face, and he crashes to the ground on a pathetic wail, clenching his nose. “Daddy!” Georgia’s shout is better at clearing the fog than being dunked in ice water. I swing around and find her running toward me, Jesse and Sam chasing after her. “Raya’s already gone.” I swoop Georgia up and carry her back to the car, at the same time digging through my pocket for my phone. Raya’s voicemail clicks straight in. Those chains around my heart tighten further. “Raya, it’s Drew. I’m at your place. Wherever you are, please turn back. Please don’t go.” “He loves you!” Georgia shouts. “Shhhhh!” Jesus, wherever she is, she’ll probably be sprinting there now. “I need to talk to you. Explain. The woman at my place this morning is Georgia’s mother. There’s never been anything between us, I swear.” “They’re just friends!” Georgia backs me up, God love her. Friends? Hardly, but it fills me with happiness in my turmoil that my girl believes that. “You have to believe me, Raya. Please, just call me.” I hang up, lifting Georgia over the side of the car into the backseat as I call my last hope. Andrea answers within two rings. “I need the name and number for Raya Rivers’s solicitor. Now.” “I’ll text it to you.” I jump in and frame Georgia’s face with my palms. “I wish you hadn’t seen that.” “Why did you hit him, Dad?” “Because he was mean to Raya. It made Daddy mad.” She gasps, disgusted, and jumps to her feet on the back seat. “You can’t be mean to Raya! My daddy loves her!” “Georgia!” I pull her back down, my phone chiming. A quick tap on the message gives me the name and number Of Raya’s solicitor. I dial, and as soon as he picks up, I launch into a pile of bullshit. I tell him who I am—no lie. I tell him the buyer is threatening to pull out of the sale—big lie. I tell him that I need to speak to Raya urgently, but I can’t seem to get through to her—definitely no lie. “Well, you’re not likely to, Mr Davies. Her flight leaves for Singapore at two.” “Two?” My lungs shrink to nothing as my eyes rest on the glowing display of Sam’s dashboard. It’s already past noon. I end the call, feeling numb. I’m too late. I’ve shat all over my one chance, ruined myself in the process, a sadist in the worst form. “What?” Sam asks, waiting for some direction, his hands flexing on the wheel.

“She’s already gone.” I mumble, staring at the clock, another minute gone, the proverbial ticking time bomb. The countdown to my complete ruin. “The flight leaves at two.” “We can make it.” Jesse goes straight to his phone. “Which airport?” “Don’t know.” “Airline?” “Don’t know.” “Flight number?” I sigh, my head taking refuge in my hands. “Don’t know.” Within the time it takes Sam to zip out of the parking space, Jesse is declaring our destination. “Heathrow, Terminal Five. I’ll have the gate number in a sec.” I lean forward in my seat, grateful for their determination to help me fix my fuckup, but knowing we’re chasing our tails. “We’re in central London. If the traffic is kind, we might make it to Heathrow by one-thirty. She’ll have boarded and there’s no way I’m getting through security.” I startle when Jesse suddenly reaches back and grabs my T-shirt, yanking me forward until I’m virtually on his lap. “Do you think I’d be where I am now if I’d let such trivial issues get in my way?” Sam bursts into laughter. “Nothing about your issues was trivial, you twat.” “What’s a twat?” Georgia pipes up from behind me. Sam gives me a sorry glance. “Nothing, pidge.” I glare back at him. Jesse sighs, releasing me from his viselike hold. “Like three fucking men and a little lady.” “What’s—” “Nothing,” we all sing, and Sam puts his foot down, throwing me back in my seat.

Chapter 13

Trivial issue. The team of airport staff beyond the barriers that are currently between us and the security checking area are definitely not a trivial issue. Any hope I had fades to nothing. “There’s not a chance in hell we’re getting through there.” I look down at my phone, a race against the clock. And I’m losing. She’ll be on the plane by now. “You just need to be creative.” Sam produces two passports, a pair of boarding passes held in the pages. I balk at him, horrified. “Where the hell did you get them?” “I borrowed them.” He shrugs like he hasn’t just committed a crime, at the same time ruining the travel plans of two poor unsuspecting people. “Don’t worry; I’ll give them back.” “Sam, you can’t do that.” What kind of impression will I be giving Georgia? So far today, she’s watched me beat a man, been involved in a high-speed chase across London, heard all kinds of inappropriate words, and now she’s part of a theft. I’m going to Hell. “Bollocks.” Jesse swipes the passports out of Sam’s hand and thrusts them into my chest. “If it makes you feel better, I won’t use these for me and Sam.” He holds up two more passports. “Oh my God,” I breathe, quietly trying to reason. It’s for a good cause, I tell myself. And we’ll return them as soon as I’ve found Raya. Raya. My focus realigns in a moment. I take the documents and hold the barcodes to the barrier in turn, letting me and Georgia through. “I need you to act normal,” I tell her, taking her hand and heading for the security area. Jesus, I can’t believe I’m pulling her in on my crimes. “Actually, maybe you should stay with Uncle Jesse and Uncle Sam.” “No!” She stops where she is and stamps her little foot. “I want to come find Raya.” “Okay,” I whisper, sweeping the area nervously. “Just don’t shout.” We join the nearest line, my eyes constantly checking the time. A plastic tray is shoved in front of us, an order barked to fill it. I leave nothing to chance, ensuring anything that could trigger the alarm on the detector is gone from our bodies. As I walk through the arch, I’m holding my breath, praying the alarm doesn’t go off. And when Georgia passes through, she looks stiff, like moving as little as possible might make her less conspicuous. The second she’s past the guards, I seize her hand, grab our things and start running through the conveniently placed Duty Free store. “Look for gate fifty-eight, Georgia.” “There, I see it!” She points up to a sign that shines the way to Raya. “Good girl.”

After another five minutes running, she starts whining and I’m forced to pick her up, her little legs not built for speed or distance just yet. Her body bounces in my arms as I run and we follow the signs, dodging people, her little fingers dug into my shoulders tightly. “Over there, Dad!” I follow her flung arm, my pace slowing until I come to a stop. The sign for gate fiftyeight is beaming, the only light in my suddenly pitch-black world. The area is empty, not a soul waiting to board, every seat free. And the door to the tunnel that leads down to the plane is closed. Grief is a knot in my throat, filling it, making each swallow rough and painful. “Are we too late?” Georgia slips down from my arms and runs to the stretch of glass adjacent to the door, her palms slapping the window as she peers out. “We’re too late.” I drop to the nearest seat and watch as the plane slowly reverses away from the gate, my game lost. My girl gone. Elbows on my knees, I slide my hands into my hair and stare at the floor. The drop of water that splashes between my feet is the first of many.

Chapter 14

I can’t bear to look Jesse and Sam in the eyes when we’ve made it back to them. The grief clogging my throat still won’t allow me to speak. The mild shake of my head tells them that our mission was a failure, though my dragging feet, slumped shoulders, and wretchedness all speak for themselves. I get a rub on the shoulder by each of them, a move of sympathy, when what I want them to do is knock me out. Not to just put me out of my misery, but to punish me for being such an idiot. The journey back into the city is painfully silent, not even Georgia breathing a word. She just humors my need for closeness, cuddling into my side. I don’t question when Jesse offers to take her back with him for some playtime with Maddie. She needs to be a kid while her dad basks in his gloom and comes to terms with the fact that he is an awardworthy arsehole. And my trophy is the shitty ache in my chest that will never stop hurting. A constant reminder of my mistake. Feet heavy, I trudge to the kitchen, snag a bottle of red and drag myself to my bedroom. Overcome with regret, remorse, and a ton of other crappy emotions, I fall to my back on the bed and stare at the ceiling. Those chains squeezing my heart are tight, impenetrable, but that bastard thing called devastation still finds its way through the thick links and tears a hole in the muscle. For what point, I don’t know, but I call Raya. Maybe to give her an update of the events of which she is completely unaware. Or maybe just so she knows how gutted I am. It goes straight to voicemail again, which shouldn’t be a surprise since she’s mid-flight, but the reminder that she’s gone still hurts like hell. I switch my phone to speaker, dropping it to the bed beside me so I can unscrew the top of the wine while I leave her a message. “I went to the airport today.” I take a swig and do my best to savor the taste of something that will hopefully numb me by the time I get to the end of the bottle. “Georgia came with me.” I laugh a little, still not quite believing what I had my daughter involved in. “My mate stole some passports and boarding passes so we could make it through to the gates.” I smile, but it’s strained and sad. “My girl pulls off the best poker face. She’s seven, for fuck’s sake.” I laugh, taking another swing. “It was an adventure for her. An adventure to win a girl for her daddy.” I breathe out, rubbing at my forehead. “She was so excited.” Tipping the bottle to my lips, I glug down probably the equivalent to an entire glass in one go, gasping and wiping my mouth. “But we were too late.” Piece by piece, my hopes disappear. My happiness shredded. “Raya, I got scared.” I sigh, rubbing at my head. “I have no excuse. You did something to me that’s never happened before, and it scared me. My lifestyle, my daughter. It all became so real. I was going to tell you about her. I just didn’t know where to start.” I clench my eyes shut, regret eating me alive. “I should have had more faith in her. And in you.” Finishing the bottle of wine, I toss it on the bed, starting to feel the glorious wooziness

of alcohol taking over my mind. “Georgia asked me if I loved you. And you know what? I do. What else could explain this madness?” I hear a knock at my front door, and I frown, pushing myself up to go answer it. I grab my phone off the bed and switch it off speaker, taking it to my ear. “You’re so young, Raya. And I’m so old and fucked up. With a kid.” I wobble through my lounge, blinking back the stars emerging in my vision. “I like binding women in chains, too.” I make it to the front door and clasp the knob. “And now I’m drunk and—” I lose my line when I pull the door open. “And you’re here,” I breathe, my phone plummeting to my side. “I’m here,” Raya confirms softly, holding up her phone. “I got your message when I was boarding the plane.” Her thumb blindly pads the blank screen. “But my phone died and I couldn’t call you back.” Hand lax on the door, I stare, lost in the moment, wondering whether I’m dreaming. Question whether I’m seeing things. Hearing things. “You weren’t on the plane,” I mumble, looking into the eyes that have consumed me whole from the moment I encountered them. There’s no sadness now. No dull, lifeless pits. I see only one thing. Hope. “I wasn’t on the plane.” She takes a step forward. “And I need you to tell me that I’ve not made a huge mistake.” Oxygen wakes me up when I inhale. My heart starts beating against those motherfucking chains, stretching them, forcing them to give under the power. I hold my phone up. No more holding back. No more questioning. No more caution and fear. “I’m a man touching forty and for the first time in my life, I’m in tatters over a woman. You, Raya.” Her smile, although small and nervous, is so fucking bright. “I don’t care how old you are. I don’t care that you have a daughter. And I love your chains.” Closing the final bit of space between us, she looks up at me, hands in my hair, clenching, determined. “Without my grandpa, I didn’t know what to do with myself. “ A small kiss is pushed onto my lips. “I know he would have seen everything in you that I see. Strength. Devotion. I know he would have told me you’re worth the risk.” “I’m no risk, Raye. I promise. I don’t want to be another reason for you to hurt, and I’ll do fucking anything to make sure I don’t.” She has to believe me. She smiles. “I know that.” Relief chokes me. It builds so fast and so furiously within me, there’s no outlet for it. Other than my eyes. I breathe out and haul her into me, my face falling straight into her neck, needing to smell her, feel her. Needing to make such she’s flesh and bone and in my arms. “I’ve left you a really long voicemail,” I whisper. I want to remember what I said, want to relay each and every word, slowly and concisely, but they’re gone, vanished from my mind, something else replacing them. Raya.

In my arms. And, really, only three of those words matter, the three that scream the loudest. The three that I need to say over and again. “I love you.”

Epilogue

I hope you’re happy here,” I say, handing the keys over to Annie Ryan. “Thank you, Drew.” She tosses the keys in her hand, looking around the hallway. “I think I’m going to be very happy here.” I take the handle of the front door and pull it open as she kicks a few of the letters at her feet, piles of correspondence that will never be read. Stepping out onto the street, I have a quick check of my phone. No missed calls. Where are they? “Any plans to knock the place about a bit?” I scan the street, left to right. Nothing. “Since you’re an architect and all.” “A weekend scrubbing and a lick of paint is all it needs for now. The second bedroom will be my studio.” Her green eyes glimmer with excitement that I just can’t help but smile at. “Are you waiting for someone?” She looks past me, scanning the empty treelined street. “Yeah,” I dial Raya, starting to worry. “Remember that really uncomfortable time when I asked your opinion on something entirely inappropriate?” I take my phone to my ear, and Annie smiles, wide and bright. “Oh, your friend’s problem?” I roll my eyes. “Yeah.” “And the girl moving out of the country.” “Oh, you mean my girlfriend?” It sounds so strange saying that. “Ah, Drew!” Annie lightly punches my bicep. “So you asked her not to go.” My phone rings off and I frown, having another quick scan of the street. “I did. She’s supposed to be meeting me here with my daughter.” “You have a daughter?” She sounds shocked. What’s most shocking is that I have a girlfriend. “I do, but I get the feeling that I’m not her favorite person anymore.” Annie laughs, starting to collect up some of the envelopes littering the floor of her new hallway. “I’m happy for you.” “Yeah, me too.” Her arm extends toward the road. “Oh, is this them?” I crack my neck, quickly looking in her pointed direction, grinning wide when I find Raya and Georgia skipping down the road hand in hand. “This is them.” Peace and contentment wraps me in its warm embrace and squeezes tightly. “Isn’t that the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen?”

They come to a stop at the bottom of the steps, arms full of cuddly toys and cotton candy. “Hey, Dad!” Georgia flicks her head to rid her face of hair. “We’ve been to the fairground!” I turn to Annie. “I’d better go.” She nods past me. “They suit you.” “I know.” I smile, sliding my phone back into my pocket. “Maybe your love’s next victim, Annie.” She scoffs, truly amused. “Like I told you, Drew. Not even sizzles, so definitely no sparks.” “Don’t sound so sure. These things bite you on the arse unexpectedly.” She smiles, though it’s a space-filler, something to do other than tell me that there’s no arse-biting in her life likely to happen soon. “Enjoy them.” “I will. Take care, Annie,” I say, because if there’s one thing I’ve figured out about Annie Ryan in the short time I’ve known her, it’s that she’s quite happy taking care of herself. She doesn’t need a man, but does she want one? I head down the steps and scoop up my girl, taking a bite of her candyfloss. “How much of this stuff have you had?” “There’s no hope of her sleeping on the plane.” Raya slides an arm under my suit jacket and attaches herself to my side, and like a magnet, my arm wraps around her shoulder and pulls her in, because she isn’t close enough. I drop a kiss on the forehead of each of my girls and start walking us to the car. “We all packed?” “Yes!” Georgia is about to burst with excitement. “I have two new bikinis and a sparkly dress, too,” she declares. “Bikinis?” I question, turning nervous eyes onto Raya. A shake of her head, no words, tells me not to worry. “And Grandpa?” I ask. “He’s all set.” Raya burrows her face into my chest, her palm resting on Georgia’s dangling leg down my front. “Then let’s get him back to Australia.” If happiness was a chain, it would be platinum with solid hearts between every link and entwined around my swelling heart. I’m chained, make no mistake, but I’m the most free I’ve ever been.

Don’t miss THE FORBIDDEN, a new story of dangerous temptations from #1 New York Times bestselling author Jodi Ellen Malpas, available in August 2017. Please see the next page for a preview.

I gather up the remaining glasses and make to turn, being sure to maintain my stability. Not that I’m stubborn or anything. I’m not drunk. “Care to prove it?” he asks, pulling me to a stop. A challenge? I risk a peek at him out of the corner of my eye and find the most gorgeous smile on his already gorgeous face. Where the hell did he come from? Prove it? “How?” I ask, my curiosity getting the better of me. “Take the shots to your friends.” He nods past me, and I look over to see my friends all now gathered around the tall table, Micky’s arms flying in the air dramatically, the girls laughing. I manage to note that Dishy Man here knows who I’m with. How long has he been here? There’s no way he would have slipped under any of the girls’ Hot-Man Radar. “Then come back to see me, if you want,” he adds quietly. If I want? Do I want? I have another quick peek up at him. He’s still smiling. It’s a dangerous smile. Very dangerous. He’s too handsome to be harmless. I slink off, shamelessly adopting a mild sway of my arse as I go, resisting the urge to see if he’s watching me. He is watching me. I just know it, and it’s got me all hot and bothered. Lizzy is on me like a pouncing tiger when I arrive back at the table. “Who in God’s name is that?” she asks, eyes wide with excitement as she takes a shot. “I don’t know,” I reply, downing the last shot myself instead of giving it up to any one of my friends, all the while feeling the magnetic pull of the man behind me, my body tightening with the strain it’s taking not to turn and seek him out again. “Annie, I know you’re pretty much immune to men, but this is taking the piss. He’s watching you.” Immune? I’m not sure I’d say immune. I’ve just never felt anything close to special. So why the hell am I tingling all over and trembling like a fool? I don’t feel very immune now. “He can watch.” She gapes at me. “Well, if you won’t talk to him, then I will, since I’m single now.” Pushing past me, she slaps a smile on her face and heads toward the bar, and my man. I have no idea what comes over me, but the next moment my hand has shot out and I’ve seized Lizzy’s wrist, yanking her to a stop. I squeeze my eyes shut, annoyed with myself. “Just hold up one minute.” I breathe in deeply and turn in to her. “A rebound fuck with a stranger isn’t the way forward.” She’s holding back a grin that will probably split her face if it escapes. She has me. For the first time—probably ever—a man has caught my attention. I shouldn’t read too much into it. I expect this particular man has caught every woman’s attention, the unholy, goodlooking son of a bitch. Leaning into me, Lizzy pushes her mouth to my ear, just as my eyes fall onto him

again. He’s still watching me. Intently, almost challengingly. “He looks like a hard fucker,” Lizzy whispers, giggling as she breaks away, giving me a coy look. “Do womankind a favor and get laid.” She nods past me. “By him.” “I’m just going to talk to him,” I protest, leaving my friend behind and giving in to the pull luring me back to him. I drink in air and start a steady pace toward him, dropping my bottom lip from between my teeth when I realize I’m biting it. He maintains a serious face, watching me as he leans on the bar casually. “I believe I saw a slight stagger,” he says, raising his eyebrows. He’s just too fucking handsome for his own good. And, undoubtedly, my good, too. “Sober,” I mouth, leaning next to him at the bar. Keeping his eyes on mine, he calls to the barman. “Two tequilas, please.” “Tequila,” I muse, looking over my shoulder when the salt and lemon land behind me. “Is that my challenge?” “Crying off?” he goads, reaching into his pocket and pulling out some notes. “Never,” I scoff, turning into the bar. I don’t know what his game is, but I want to play. With him. “You’re asking me to prove I’m sober by doing a shot?” I narrow my eyes on him, teasing. “Or is your plan to get me drunk and take advantage of me?” He smiles to himself as he pays the barman. “You don’t look like the kind of woman who could be taken advantage of.” “What kind of woman do I look like, then?” I challenge quietly. He turns into me, watching me for a few moments. “I don’t know, but I think I’d like to find out.” I hold his gaze for a few seconds, no retort coming to me. I think I want him to find out, too, just as much as I want to find out what kind of man he is. My eyes drop from his sparkling grays, down his tall, lean frame to his feet. Oh…fuck… “Let’s play,” he says, moving in closer and pulling one of the glasses forward. I don’t mean to, but I yank my arm away abruptly when he brushes against me, startled by the tiny stabs of pleasure that pitter-patter all over my skin. The fleeting touch tells me he would feel as good as he looks, and—give me strength—he smells divine, all manly and earthy and fucking edible. The sudden lapse in movement and talking from both of us becomes slightly awkward. I can feel him looking down at me. “What do I have to do?” I ask again quietly, almost on a breathy gasp. He clears his throat. “You’re not drunk?” “Not even the slightest bit.” I raise my nose in the air. “Good. Then you’ll smash this challenge first time.” He places a finger on the brim of

one of the shot glasses. “Brace your palms on the edge of the bar,” he orders, firm but softly. I look at him, finding a serious face. “Go on.” Frowning, I place my hands on the edge of the bar. “Okay?” He takes my hips. He takes my fucking hips! I freeze from top to toe and swallow hard, waiting. My insides are quickly furling, my mind in chaos. “Move back a bit,” he says, pulling at them a little until I step back. Oh, Jesus. I’m on fire. I have a strange man bending me over a bar in public, and me, Annie I’m-immune-to-men Ryan, isn’t fighting him off. It’s like he has me under a spell. What gives? I dare not look behind me. I’m not stupid enough to think Lizzy isn’t currently watching a man manipulate my body to where he wants it. “You feel tense,” he observes, releasing me and moving back to my side. I don’t deny it; neither do I confirm it. His big hands felt so good resting on my hips, so much so that I have to resist not claiming them and putting them back where they were. “What now?” I ask, evidently struggling for air, damn me. “Now.” He picks up his beer and grins. “I get to gloat that I had you bent over a bar within five minutes of meeting you.” He takes a swig, still grinning, and I hear the roar of a man down the bar laughing his head off. Oh, the fucker! Part of me has admiration. Another part of me wants to slap him stupid; I don’t care how beautiful he is. And another part of me wants to rip his clothes from his body and ravish the sly bastard. I cannot believe I fell for it! How many women has he played like a fiddle? I drop my head, shaking it to myself. I knew that smile was dangerous. A man who can bend a woman to his will so easily and so soon couldn’t be anything less than lethal. And the fact that he got me with his wicked game means hats off to him. I can’t possibly take that away from him, and since I’m lacking in the dignity department right now, I decide not to slap him. Nor will I chuck a drink over his head, or fire a load of verbal abuse at him. I’ll do what he least expects. I push myself up and turn to face him, unable to stop myself from smiling at his halfgrin. Holding his gaze, I slowly lick the back of my hand, blindly take the salt off the bar, sprinkle a bit, and take one of the shots of tequila. But as I’m taking my hand to my mouth to lick the salt up, he seizes my wrist and takes the shot from my other hand. My heartbeat accelerates, our eyes glued to each other as he moves into me and slowly brings my hand to his mouth. I watch, gripped, as he lazily licks up the salt from the back of my hand, eyes on mine, and then knocks the tequila back. Kill me now, for I will certainly die a happy woman. His tongue on my skin. His eyes boring into mine. His hold of my wrist. I must look like a statue—unable to talk, move, or think clearly. “There’s one more tequila,” he says, cocking his head toward the bar but keeping me in his sights. “And it’s yours.”

Oh good lord. My heart is speeding up by the second as I watch him lick the back of his hand and sprinkle some salt. Then he offers it to me. I stare at his hand, and then slowly look up at him. I could get lost in those gray glittery eyes. “I taste good,” he whispers. I’ve no doubt. It takes everything in me and more to take his hand and bring it to my mouth, and when my tongue slips free, I close my eyes and brace myself. I taste no salt. I taste him. And it might well be the most intoxicating taste I’ve ever experienced. I swallow, keeping hold of his hand while I take the tequila and throw it back, not even wincing as it burns its way down my throat. He nods approvingly. “Told you,” he murmurs, pulling his hand away. I fight my way back to life, looking away from him before I self-combust. “It was nice playing with you,” I breathe, turning away. I need the ladies’. Quickly. “Whoa!” He slips his hand around my wrist and stills me. My whole body locks up again. After being clued in to his pathetic man-game of getting me bent over the bar, all bodily reactions to him should have been halted in their annoying tracks. Then he licked me. And I licked him. The tingles engulfing me are so fierce I’m having to refrain from brushing them off. “Don’t go just yet,” he says gently. I look up at him, cocking my head, trying to wrestle some sensibility through my cloud of lust. I haven’t been with a man in a long, long while. About one year, two months, and one week ago, to be precise. Jason’s friend of a friend. “And what are you planning on doing with me if I stay?” I ask, taking a quick scan of his hand in search of a ring, just to be sure. No ring. How a woman hasn’t staked a claim on him yet is beyond me. “I plan on talking to you,” he says softly, watching me with a hint of curiosity. “As opposed to licking me?” “You didn’t like my game?” he asks evenly, seriously, something lingering behind his eyes. Something tempting. Something that makes me a little…cautious. And a lot hot. His grasp, still circling my wrist, gives me a moment’s pause. The heat of our combined skin isn’t to be ignored. I’m intrigued by him, if only because he’s captured my attention and kept it, even after his sly stunt. Talk. He wants to talk. I gently pull my arm away and he releases me slowly, never removing his eyes from mine. Then he blindly pulls a bar stool forward, indicating for me to take a seat. “Drink? Or have you had enough?” I rest my bum on the stool and flick him a tired look, but I really don’t think I should be drinking any more. Especially not now, when I should probably keep my wits about me. “I’ll have a water, please.” He signals the barman over, ordering my water and another beer. I look across to my friends, and find none of them looking this way. Except Micky. He cocks his head in

question, and I nod my reassurance. I’m fine. Totally fine. The man with no name lowers to a stool before me, one foot resting on the floor, the other on a footrest, his elbow propped on the bar. His shirt crinkles around his midriff a little. It looks like there could be abs beneath that crisp white material. And his bent arm is hinting to some pretty solid biceps. “What’s your name?” he asks, pulling my eyes back up to his face. He still looks serious, a distinct contrast from the cocky grin that was fixed to his face when I first clapped eyes on him. “Annie,” I answer. “Yours?” “Jack.” He presents me with his hand, still watching me as I decide whether I should touch him again. It’s definitely not a good idea. If anything, I should be retreating, moving away, possibly even leaving right this minute. There are intentions in his serious eyes that I can read perfectly; intentions that should frighten me—so why I reach forward and place my hand gently in his is beyond my ability to analyze right now. I’m rapt. Enthralled. It’s a revelation, and I quite like it. As soon as contact is made, skin on skin, he seizes my hand quickly, shocking me. My eyes fly up to his, expecting to find a cheeky grin, but he’s still looking at me seriously. “Gotcha,” he murmurs, squeezing his big palm around mine. I lose my breath. My heart gallops. My skin heats. Holy shit, he certainly has. He starts to slowly shake my hand, up and down, taking a long time about it, too. I swallow repeatedly, my throat as dry as a bone as he controls my movements. Gotcha? His lips slowly curve, as if he knows my thoughts, and I’m faced with that sparklyeyed smile again. “I licked it, so it’s mine,” he says around his smile. His declaration has me shaking my head in wonder as he lowers my held hand to my bare leg, taking advantage of his position and dragging his fingers down my thigh as he pulls away. I jerk on my stool and make a grab for my water. “Do you lick many women?” I ask, and immediately kick myself for it. That’s none of my business, and I honestly don’t want to know. His face is suddenly serious. “Licking women in bars isn’t usually my thing.” “What about bending them over bars?” A mild smile ghosts his lips, as if he’s reading my thoughts. “I don’t know what came over me,” he admits on a mild laugh, bringing his hand to his jaw and stroking over his bristle. I’m glad, because I don’t know what came over me, either. “What do you do, Annie?” “I’m an architect,” I answer swiftly. Talk. Just talk. “Mainly domestic projects, but I’m slowly moving my business into the commercial sector.” “You have your own firm?” he asks, and I nod. “That’s impressive for someone in

her…” Jack fades off, cocking his head in question. I smile at his cute ploy to extract my age. “I’m twenty-nine.” “Wow, that really is impressive. Congratulations. I like seeing people succeeding.” “Thank you.” “Are you mar—” “No.” I laugh. “Taken?” I’m not so quick to answer this time. I don’t know why. Probably because my answer will open the path to…what? “No.” There’s relief in his eyes. There’s definitely relief. “You’re a good-time girl?” he asks, a suggestive edge to his tone. “Well, I don’t usually let strange men bend me over bars and lick me, if that’s what you’re getting at.” “I’m honored.” Jack smiles, satisfied. “So what do you usually do for fun? I mean, when I’m not around to bend and lick you.” I match his smile and take a sip of water to moisten my increasingly dry mouth. “I work hard. I have good friends. I have my good times with them.” “Through choice or because of a bad experience?” “We’re getting a bit personal, aren’t we?” I cock him a questioning look, and he smiles on a shrug. “Just trying to figure you out.” His jean-clad knee brushes mine, and I whip my leg away on a skip of my pathetic heart. He won’t need to figure out anything. I’m happy to tell him. “I have no interest in men right now.” I don’t know why, but I find myself biting my lip and watching closely for his reaction. He nods slowly. “That could change,” he muses—out of the blue, shocking me. My back straightens, my breath hitching a little. “How d’you mean?” I ask quietly, trying to weave interest through my words. I try. All that’s woven through every word I’m speaking to this man is intrigue. And desire. “I mean”—he starts, leaning in a bit—“you’ve clearly never been consumed by a man.” He pauses, giving me a moment to agree, but I don’t. I’m fixated on him. “But one day a man will come along and he’ll swallow you up, Annie. Blindside you.” There’s suggestion in his words that I’m finding hard not to be curious about. And I’m still just staring at him. My pulse pounds in my ears as he pulls away and turns back toward the bar, calling the barman over. I don’t hear what he orders. My surroundings have been reduced to a blur of activity, the loud sounds of the bar now a distant white noise. There’s a magnetic appeal to

Jack—not just his looks, but his persona, his voice…his words. “Here.” He takes my limp hand and removes the water, handing me a shot glass. The contact wrenches me from my trance, and I glance around, finding the world is still happening around me. Chinking glasses with me, he smiles that lovely smile—the one that had me hooked the moment I saw him. “Here’s to being blindsided,” he says, raising his glass.

Acknowledgments As always, my never-ending appreciation and love for all those who have held my hand down this writing road. ALL I AM was a chance to revisit old friends from way back when I first landed in the world of fiction, and it was so good to be in their heads again. And to my readers, I hope you enjoy this extension of THIS MAN and Drew in all his glory. I know I did. —JEM xxx

Also by Jodi Ellen Malpas This Man Beneath This Man This Man Confessed One Night: Promised One Night: Denied One Night: Unveiled The Protector

About the Author Jodi Ellen Malpas was born and raised in the Midlands town of Northampton, England, where she lives with her two boys and a beagle. She is a self-professed daydreamer, a Converse and mojito addict, and has a terrible weak spot for Alpha Males. Writing powerful love stories and creating addictive characters have become her passion—a passion she now shares with her devoted readers. She’s a proud #1 New York Times bestselling author, and all seven of her published novels were New York Times bestsellers, in addition to being international and Sunday Times bestsellers. Her work is published in more than twenty languages across the world. You can learn more at: JodiEllenMalpas.co.uk Twitter @JodiEllenMalpas Facebook.com/JodiEllenMalpas

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