Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 105183 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 526(@200wpm)___ 421(@250wpm)___ 351(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105183 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 526(@200wpm)___ 421(@250wpm)___ 351(@300wpm)
“Amelia, no!” Abbie yells as I pull my mobile away from my ear. “His dick was what?”
The doors close. “I want to hear more about hand sex!” Charley adds.
I slam my thumb down on the red icon to end the call and shut my friends up, dying on the inside as he joins me. He’s so close. So I take a step away, suffocating, staring at the mirrored doors, my eyes on his lovely brown dress shoes and perfectly fitted trousers. I can’t stop my gaze creeping up his legs. “Still stiff,” he murmurs.
“Jesus Christ,” I say, laughing. “And now you’re following me into the elevator.”
He leans past me, his arm brushing my breast. He stills. “I’m not the only one with something stiff around here.”
I press my lips together and will my nipples to pipe down as he hits the button for floor three. Frans Franklin & Co Solicitors. Okay, so he’s definitely here on business. It’s a coincidence. Just a coincidence.
The elevator starts moving, and he steps back into position beside me, his hands joined in front of him. Those fucking hands. My mobile starts ringing. Abbie. I reject the call. Then Charley. I reject her too, peeking out the corner of my eye at him. And quickly looking away when he catches me.
The lift stops, the door opens and he steps out, giving me air. Or some, at least. He gazes at me through hooded eyes. “My hands want to have sex with your hands again.”
He tilts his head, and the doors close. “Fucking hell.” I fall back against the wall and fan my face with my salad pot, trying to get my body under control before I combust. I laugh to myself. Cringe. “Fucking hell,” I murmur.
By the time I’ve gathered myself, the girls have called me a further five times and I’m back on my floor much later than I hoped. I have a call to prep for. I text them that I’ll see them at the gym after work and ignore their disgust but smile to myself when Charley says she’ll be there. Obviously my recent encounter with the good-looking bastard from Arlington Hall is good enough reason to cancel the playdate and get her arse to the gym while the kids are in the creche.
Gary’s in my office when I get there, still somewhat flustered. “Hey,” I say, dumping my lunch on my desk. “How was your meeting with the partners?”
“Uptight Uriel is still uptight, and Sue is as frightening as ever.” He drops a file on my desk. “Check out the new short-term plans released by Hello World. You might like them.”
“Thanks.” I fall into my chair and pull my salad close, but my appetite has run for the hills, my stomach in knots. I scrunch my nose and push it away.
“The conference next week,” Gary goes on.
“What about it?”
“The venue’s changed.”
“Oh. What happened?”
“The Hilton double-booked us. Luckily, they have an alternative option.”
“Where?”
“Arlington Hall,” he says, easy-breezy, smiling. What? “It’s in Oxfordshire. Dead posh. Every cloud and all that.”
I stare at Gary’s back as he leaves, my mouth lax.
Arlington Hall.
What the fucking hell?
Chapter 7
I’m three miles down by the time Abbie and Charley find me in the gym, and their arrival is a thankful distraction from my most recent encounter with the Adonis. I wasn’t able to focus for the rest of the day at work, and that’s unheard of. My two late-afternoon calls were a mess of gibberish as I tried to recall what advice I was supposed to be giving my clients, both of whom were most unsettled by my uncharacteristically disorderly meetings. Thank you . . .
What the hell is his name?
Abbie hops on the machine on my right, Charley on the left. This isn’t our usual pattern for running. I’m always to the far right, Charley to the far left, Abbie in the middle. Age order, oldest down to youngest, which is me. I’m trapped between them, feeling their eyes on me as they find their pace.
“Talk,” Charley demands, tying her wild curly hair back as she jogs.
“Now,” Abbie adds, adjusting her sports bra to get her huge boobs comfortable.
I blow out my cheeks, my sweat building. “He asked me to dinner again.”
“Tell me you said yes this time,” Abbie begs. My awkward smile pointed her way gives her the answer she didn’t want.
“No, that would be stupid,” Charley pipes in, pulling my attention to her. I smile, happy she’s on my side.
“She’s already had hand sex with him.” Abbie laughs. My eyes go back to her. “What’s dinner between two people whose hands have made out?”
I roll my eyes.
“Explain this hand sex,” Charley says, lifting her hands and looking at them.
“It was more a massage,” I reply, my breath a little shorter than the girls’. A very sensual massage. “I was soaping them for something to do.”