A man she’d wrongly assumed was a tourist and picked up in St James’s Park. A man she’d had sex with, twice, whose bed she’d only left mere hours ago. A man to whom she’d confessed her pathetic lack of sexual experience, and thought she’d never see again.
Molten heat engulfed Essie’s throat. She swallowed it down with a sour chaser of you’ve-only-got-yourself-to-blame. But her stomach rebelled the dose of self-inflicted medicine.
Pulling herself up, she levelled her best cold stare on his sinful good looks and returned his handshake with an overly firm one of her own, ignoring the delicious glide of his callused palm.
Social pleasantries complete, she yanked her hand from his as if he were a live wire, connected to the mains.
He’d lied to her.
Deceived her.
Pried into her sordid hang-ups about her crappy father figure.
Why had she told him such personal information? Why hadn’t she asked more about him? She really was a one-night-stand rookie. Her burning eyes darted away, but not before his image branded her retinas.
She’d wanted to experience the casual sex hype, desperate to lend an air of real experience and authority to the relationship advice she touted on her blog. All because, despite her qualifications, despite years of academic research, despite actually having had a long-term relationship, she feared herself an imposter.
Of course, the fact she’d been starved of earth-shattering orgasms during that relationship and that Ash was...easy on the eye had helped...
She snatched another scan of his sublime body. Unlike the relaxed, slightly crumpled hottie she’d met yesterday, today Ash wore a crisp white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows and sharply tailored suit trousers that complemented the silver-grey tie and highlighted the intense blue of his eyes.
Gorgeous. Mouth-watering. A duplicitous scumbag...
As hot as he’d looked dressed down in jeans and a T-shirt, he wore this sharp, professional outfit like a second skin, as he wore the power that oozed from him. As he lived and breathed the air of command and authority that immaculate tailoring afforded. Her breath caught. She could have slapped her own forehead. Another piece of the puzzle slotted home—Ben’s new business partner was a top New York attorney...like a character from that TV show, only a hundred times hotter and a thousand times more untouchable.
But she had touched.
The seconds stretched.
Awkward seconds. Seconds absent of the expected social niceties. To compensate, Essie blurted the first inane thing to pop into her head.
‘So you’re Ben’s business partner?’ Duh...
Ash nodded. Slow. Easy. His stare glittering. As if he recognised the turmoil rendering her tongue-tied. And not one hint of regret or embarrassment. Unlike her, who was practically molten with shame.
‘Guilty as charged.’ His voice carried a bite that had been missing from the deep, hypnotic rumble of the easy-going sightseer. As if he was used to being in control?
And lawyer humour... Really?
‘Ben has been talking about you all morning,’ he said. ‘Of course, he mentioned a while ago he’d recently united with his half-sister, but I’d failed to pay attention to your very pretty name.’ His eyes flicked down the front of her dress. To the coffee stain...
Perfect.
Essie fought the temptation to fold her arms across her chest and keep on folding herself into a tiny origami Essie. Had Ash told Ben about last night? About how she’d thrown herself at him? How she’d blurted out her inexperience and then eagerly climbed his ripped body? Had he laughed at her? And why was he pissed? She’d been the one deceived, duped. Dazzled by his confident charm and his promise of a string-free night to remember. It wasn’t as if she’d stalked him here for a repeat performance...
And how much of her sad little tale, her pathetic past, did he know? Had Ben told him all about her sorry past? Had Ash linked the woman confessing her daddy issues before fleeing his bed with Ben’s sister?
As if he’d heard her thoughts, he said, ‘Imagine my surprise when I heard Ben’s sister was to be our new bar manager.’
The trembles turned into jolts. Surely Ben would have said something if he knew. She tensed her muscles to hold herself still. It wouldn’t do to show a man like Ash, the real Ash, any weakness. Last night, she’d have run a mile from this powerful, controlled man. She should run now. Leave with what was left of her self-esteem intact before Ben clued on and her embarrassment became full-blown.
But leaving her brother in the lurch...? When he needed her help more than ever? Not an option. Not if they were to have a chance at a deep and lasting sibling relationship.
Ben snorted, flicking Ash a friendly but distracted grin.
‘Leave it, Jacob. Essie’s been a lifesaver, stepping in at the last minute.’ Ben rounded the desk and flopped down into the chair Ash had vacated, leaving the two of them alone on the other side of the impressive block of wood.
Essie levelled her stare on Ash. She narrowed her eyes but kept her voice free of the sarcasm fighting to break free. ‘Tell me, have you been in London long? Had a chance to do a little sightseeing perhaps?’
For Ben’s sake, she kept the acid from her tone, but Ash shrugged, seemingly indifferent, and Ben looked too engrossed in the screen of his phone to have even heard the vague barb.
Ash moved to an informal seating area in one corner of the office, which was decked out like something from an exclusive gentlemen’s club. He held out his arm to offer her a seat and then, when she declined, sank down into the leather, all the while assessing her with his narrowed stare.
‘I have managed a tour of the more...exciting highlights the city has to offer.’ He quirked a brow, his mouth twisted. He reclined, one arm stretched out along the back of the sofa, thighs spread in that confident, manly way that screamed, Look at my junk! Oh, wait, you’ve already experienced it.
Heat slammed through her, pulsing between her legs with every lurid memory of him inside her last night: his hips slamming into her; his gruff voice commanding her pleasure; his uncompromising control brooking no arguments, even though she’d been one hundred per cent complicit.
Her cheeks warmed. She’d fully embraced the wham-bam, thank you, ma’am. She dragged her gaze from his crotch, pressing her lips together so she couldn’t lick them. This morning, one night had been enough.
But now, with him looking at her as if he wanted a repeat performance, her body hummed with need, in traitorous, clit-throbbing agreement.
One night hadn’t been enough.
Not of this man, who she suspected would be twice the lover of relaxed, tourist Ash. Was that even possible? No. She didn’t want to know.
‘So you have managerial experience? Hospitality experience?’ Ash flicked his eyes over her from head to toe as if they were alone, his tone grating and transforming her buzz of arousal to one of irritation. It was the way he asked, as if he already
