Читать книгу The Dare Collection November 2018 - Christy McKellen, Avril Tremayne - Страница 11

CHAPTER TWO

Leonie

AT A QUARTER to seven I stood by the limo in the private airstrip that serviced Nice airport. A few more phone calls this morning had finally furnished me with the info of at which airport Gideon would be landing.

As his private jet landed and taxied closer, I eyed the gleaming silver Aston Martin DB11 parked next to the limo.

Although currently driverless, it still evoked irritation. There were no other planes scheduled to land for another hour—I checked with VIP staff. Which most likely meant one thing.

The client I’d risen at the crack of dawn to pick up had arranged his own ride.

Deep breaths...

I despised the careless waste of money his unreasonableness triggered. Which was a little ironic considering the line of business I was in but still... I shrugged away my ire and watched the sleek private jet come to a standstill.

Two minutes later, the jet’s engines powered down and short steps dropped onto the tarmac.

And from fifty feet away I caught my first glimpse of Gideon Mortimer.

Holy God.

I’d thought his sex-stroking voice was sinfully aggravating. But the man’s face, lean hips and long-limbed body...everything about him was captivating enough to make my jaw sag in wonder for three embarrassing seconds before I caught myself.

Still I couldn’t look away.

Dark brown wavy hair, glossy beneath the resplendent sunshine, tossed about in the morning breeze. As I watched him approach in a slow saunter, I could’ve sworn every movement he made was precisely choreographed by the director of a perfume ad.

Aviator shades perched on a patrician nose stopped me from seeing his eyes, but that didn’t even matter. I was already preoccupied with the square jaw that held an I-didn’t-bother-to-shave-deal-with-it stubble that prompted fingers—not mine—to test its roughness.

As he drew nearer, my gaze dropped to his mouth.

Dear heaven. Every millimetre of that mouth was built for filthy, decadent sin. For making fast and furious friends with a woman’s lady business, and not disengaging until someone was clawing at silk sheets, screaming for mercy.

Thank God I took the edge off last night, otherwise I’d have a hard time functioning right now. Gideon Mortimer was the epitome of everything I’d thought him to be—sinfully handsome and very much aware of his power over women.

Just like the man whose blood unfortunately ran through my veins; the man I’d never called Dad because he didn’t deserve the title. A no-good son of a bitch I’d never forgiven for what he did to my mother. To me.

Those reminders helped shore up my foundations as I briskly tugged on my bespoke Armani jacket and pinned a cool professional smile on my face. ‘Mr Mortimer?’

He ignored me, peering first into the limo and then, frowning, at his immediate surroundings before his jaw clenched. ‘Jesus, she didn’t even bother to turn up,’ he muttered. ‘Fucking unbelievable.’

I took a deep breath and stepped forward. ‘Mr Mortimer?’ I waited for him to pluck his sunglasses off his face before I thrust out my hand. ‘Welcome to Nice. I’m—’

‘Not who I’m expecting. As much as I appreciate a pretty smile and saucy little chauffeur’s uniform, your boss should’ve come here herself, like she promised. I should’ve guessed that promise of flexibility was too good to be true. Probably that bragging about her gold medals, too,’ he muttered under his breath as he turned towards the Aston Martin.

‘First of all, this isn’t a chauffeur’s uniform. It’s bespoke Armani. Second, I don’t believe she promised she would be here. If you would just—’

‘What are you? Her assistant? Her driver? Are you even old enough to drive this thing?’

‘Mr Mortimer—’

Again he cut me off. ‘Fucking typical. Forget it.’ He pointed his electronic key at the sports car. The boot popped open and he threw his weekend bag into it and slammed it with repressed force. ‘When someone gives their word I expect them to abide by it.’ The set to his jaw suggested he wasn’t talking about the wrong he believed I’d committed. ‘Tell her she just lost my business.’

‘Did she even have it in the first place?’ I snapped. ‘Or were you just toying with her in between playing with your millions?’

He froze with one hand on the door. ‘Excuse me?’

‘Are you sure you want to be excused? Only you seem to enjoy riding roughshod over anyone who so much as throws the tiniest protest your way.’

He slowly leaned his rangy body against the car, crossed his ankles and folded his arms. It was really hard to know which part of his body to look at. Or to avoid looking to prevent sensory overload. He moved like the gears of a well-oiled machine, with impressive fluidity and contained power. I tried not to think of what all that power could do if concentrated between a woman’s legs.

Because the potential to unleash mayhem was there. Barely restrained. Waiting to explode. Something about his unshaven face and the beaten leather jacket draping his body spelled unbridled danger I had every intention of avoiding.

‘You have something to say to me?’ he asked in a tone saturated with English boarding-school arrogance.

I steeled myself to hold his gaze. ‘Funnily enough, yes. Question is, are you going to listen or keep talking over me?’

Dark grey eyes flecked with gold and hazel, surrounded by the most lush lashes I’d ever seen on a man, raked me slowly from head to toe, and back again. He lingered on my legs, my hips, paused the longest on my breasts. Gideon Mortimer was a breasts man. And my breasts were tightening, tingling, in preparation to savour that revelation.

Oh, hell, no.

I clenched my fist over the car key until faint pain in my palm distracted my body from the thick, drugging sensation swirling through me. I couldn’t be attracted to Gideon Mortimer. I just couldn’t.

Before he could respond, I held out my hand once more. ‘Good to meet you, Mr Mortimer. I’m Ms Branson.’

His arms dropped and he looked from my outstretched hand to my face. ‘You’re Leonora Branson?’

‘Yes.’

His eyes narrowed. ‘Shit. I thought she...you fobbed me off with an assistant.’

‘I know. You made your feelings very clear on the matter.’

He had the grace to grimace. ‘Apologies. I’ve had a testy few weeks.’

A little mollified, I attempted another smile. ‘Apology accepted.’

He took my hand as his gaze made another subtle pass over my body. ‘How old are you, Leonora Branson?’

Nope, not going near that one. ‘Old enough to have run a successful company for six years with a portfolio of satisfied customers.’

‘Doesn’t really answer my question, does it?’ he said.

‘No, it doesn’t. Besides not playing games I also don’t give out personal information. Is that going to be a problem?’

‘Only if you have a problem with me being impressed that someone so young would be in the position you’re in.’

The unexpected compliment blew a hole through my irritation, just as the pressure of his hand on mine was eroding my intention not to be seriously seduced by his drop-dead gorgeousness.

I knew I was younger than I looked, a fact that had surprised a few people who thought at twenty-six I had no business running a multimillion-pound company. ‘I...’ God, what had he said? Something about being impressed? ‘Thanks.’

‘You’re welcome,’ he said in a deep, gravel-rough voice that reminded me of what I did to myself last night.

I tugged at my hand. He kept a hold of it for another long second, a frown flicking over his face as his jaw clenched and unclenched.

The depth of his examination began to grate. Then the grating turned into something else. Something darker, saucier. Something that emphatically reminded my pussy that a vibrator wasn’t enough any more and what it truly yearned for was a hard, experienced cock.

Please. Not now.

I exhaled in relief as he dropped my hand and then relief morphed to irritation as he turned to the sports car.

‘Are you leaving in that?’

‘I should hope so, since I asked for it to be delivered for that very purpose.’

It took monumental effort not to grit my teeth. ‘You should’ve informed me you would be driving yourself. As you can see, I came to pick you up.’

He tossed a mocking glance at the Rolls Royce and his mouth quirked. ‘It’s a gorgeous ride, but I’m in the mood for a little more horsepower this morning.’

Calm. Be calm. ‘Very well. Shall we arrange a time to meet later?’

‘I have meetings scheduled all day. Then a hot date with the sexy roulette table at the Casino de Monte-Carlo later. She’s always a tease, but an enjoyable one.’

In anticipation of a hectic Monday getting the crew ready to sail, I’d given myself the day off tomorrow. I watched it disappear in a puff of smoke. ‘Why did you ask me to come here this morning if you can’t meet with me?’

‘I asked you to come because it’s a half-hour drive to my hotel. And I believe in time efficiency.’ With that, he opened the passenger door and raised an eyebrow at me. ‘So are you coming, Miss Branson?’ The suggestive decadence in his tone should’ve made me madder. But my traitorous pussy grew damper.

‘I can’t just leave the car here.’

‘There you go again, throwing obstacles in the way of our fledgling...liaison.’

I cast a look towards the hired driver of the limo and nodded, dismissing him and the waste of money Gideon had just cost me.

I grabbed my small purse and the folder I’d brought with me before heading over to the Aston Martin, where Gideon Mortimer stood holding the door open for me.

That small act of chivalry was still unravelling a tiny wave of shock through me as he slid behind the wheel. The throaty engine roared to life the same time I was hit with a lungful of whatever delicious aftershave he was wearing. It was like a shot to the chest from a double-barrelled gun. Compounded by the power of the car when he accelerated out of the airport and the play of his thighs when he aggressively changed gears, I was struck dumb for several minutes.

The busy streets of Nice were filled with tourists at this time of year but Gideon seemed to know how to avoid getting caught up in traffic. At the first set of red lights, he slanted a glance at me. ‘Is the crew issue resolved?’

Shit, he had to give me the tough question straight off the bat. I took a moment to savour my freedom for one last time. ‘If you go ahead and lease the boat, I’ll resolve the crew issue but I won’t act on it until we have an agreement. If and when we do it’ll bring the manpower total to twenty-seven. Trust me, I can make that work.’

A cloud drifted over his face. ‘Trust isn’t a commodity I find very easy to part with.’

The little rush of affinity warmed me before I killed it dead. If the Devil didn’t trust, there was a good reason for it. ‘The other company you’re thinking of going with, have you used them before?’

He cracked a hard smile. ‘Don’t come at me with that angle, Leonora.’

It was the second time he’d used my given name. When had we even agreed to that? And why did each enunciation make me wildly hot?

‘Why not? Why would you decide to go with them and not me?’

‘Because they’re weren’t as...intransigent.’

My fingers tightened around the folder. ‘I can guarantee you a better service.’

He remained silent for a short mile. ‘That remains to be seen. Now, run me through your list,’ he said briskly.

A little more settled now we were on a business footing, I went through the extensive list of everything, from how often the sheets were changed on board the yacht to the ingredients used on the most elaborate meal. I’d found out early in my career not to leave any detail unmentioned.

By the time I was done, he was pulling up in front of the Riviera One hotel in Nice. The cheapest room in the six-star hotel was upward of fifteen hundred euros a night with a stay in the presidential suite extending to the tens of thousands. It was number one on my client recommendation list.

I wasn’t even a little bit surprised that Gideon was greeted by name by the doorman when he stepped out of the Aston Martin.

‘Bienvenue, Monsieur Mortimer.’

‘Thanks, Pierre, it’s good to be back. How are the wife and kids?’ he asked after he tossed his keys to the valet.

‘Very well, monsieur. I must thank you again for that letter of recommendation.’

Gideon clapped the man on the shoulder. ‘If you must, but that’s the last time. Thank me again and I’ll have you fired.’

Pierre looked startled for a moment, before he chuckled. ‘Understood, monsieur. I’ll make sure your bag is delivered right away.’

‘Good man.’

He sauntered into the stunning atrium of the art deco hotel as if he owned the place, striding over to the VIP concierge desk. ‘Everything is ready for you, Mr Mortimer. If there is anything else you need, please do not hesitate to ask and I will personally see to it,’ the chief concierge said.

‘I know you will. I might even start by asking you to teach true customer service to a few people I’m thinking of doing business with,’ Gideon replied, sending me a speaking glance as he pocketed his black key card and headed to the lift.

‘If that comment was aimed at me, I’ll have you know I haven’t had a single complaint since I started my business. In fact, I have several glowing testimonials I’m happy to show you if you want.’

He had the audacity to grin. And, oh, what a spectacular sight it was. It transformed his face from devilishly handsome to downright sacrilegious, stopping my breath dead two seconds after the brilliance of it hit me square in the chest.

Sweet God.

I entered the lift and clung to the railing, desperately willing myself to avoid looking at him, and failing, as he lounged against the wall, arms crossed.

‘I have a feeling you’re not very happy with me, Leonora,’ he mused. ‘Is it because you find me too demanding?’

God, why was he saying my name like that? ‘Wasn’t that the impression you wished to create?’

His shrug was shamelessly unapologetic. ‘My mum used to call me her greedy little bastard, among other things. The way I see it, why ask for the moon and stars when the sun is just begging to be tossed in, as well?’

The use of the past tense triggered curiosity I wrestled down. ‘And you don’t care if your greed earns you a certain reputation?’

‘I’m a big boy. I can take care of anyone who pays me a less-than-stellar compliment to my face. What they say behind my back—’ he shrugged again ‘—I care very little about.’

The realisation that he meant it, that power and privilege had insulated him against the barbs of ordinary men, grated. It was the same entitlement that my father fed on, using it to prey on defenceless people like my mother until she was a husk before throwing her away. The same entitlement with which another woman had looked at my fiancé, decided she wanted him and had taken him without compunction, Adam’s own collusion aside.

Dammit, there I went thinking about him again. Something about Gideon Mortimer triggered unwanted memories. The sooner I got our business squared away, the better.

Except, if he signed on the dotted line, I’d be stuck with him for the next few weeks.

‘You should learn to school your expressions better, Leonora.’

I refocused on him but didn’t bother to hide my derision. ‘Pray tell, what do you think you see?’

‘There’s a lot about me you don’t like. But you’re swallowing your pride for the sake of our business relationship. Bravo on that, by the way. But there’s something you do like and you’re desperate to keep that under wraps.’

My heart rate spiked just a little north of uncomfortable. ‘Wow, you can tell all of that just by looking at my face?’

‘I can tell that by the way you’re gripping that railing as if your life depends on it, and the way you’re plastering yourself so hard against the wall. Oh, and the way you haven’t stopped looking at my mouth since we entered the lift.’

I opened my mouth but the lift doors parted just then, possibly saving me from voicing a response that would’ve killed this deal once and for all. With a cocky smile, he stepped into the corridor and waved me out. When I was two feet from him, he braced his hand on the door frame to his suite, stopping my progress.

‘It’s okay, Leonora, you can tell me what you really think of me. One of my many assets is a thick skin.’

I took a breath, got hit with that sinful aftershave again and clenched my gut against all the decadent sensations buffeting me. He was just a man. His type was a dime a dozen in this part of the world.

Except it wasn’t true.

Gideon Mortimer was exceptional in many ways. Magnetic. Charismatic. Electrifying. And extremely easy on the eyes.

‘I was going to advise you not to get high on your own supply but I realised I’d be wasting my breath. What I’d like to know, though, is why have you brought me to the penthouse suite?’ I was too busy being dazzled by his smile to check what button he’d pressed. Foolishly, I’d assumed we were going to the tenth-floor brasserie, where I usually met with clients.

He dropped his hand and turned towards the imposing double doors that led into the impressive luxury suite. ‘We haven’t finished our discussion, and I need a shower before my next appointment in twenty minutes. Two birds and all that. You don’t object, do you?’

I didn’t answer because his question sounded annoyingly rhetorical.

Swiping the key card, he shoved the doors open, leaving me trailing after him with a reel of indecent images of a naked, shower-soaked Gideon cascading through my heated brain.

When I eventually made it inside, he was standing before the floor-to-ceiling glass windows staring at the stunning Côte d’Azur view. I’d been in this suite a few times. The magnificent blend of art deco and modern furnishings, the deep blue of the sky outside and the sparkling ocean never failed to leave me breathless. Today that image, framed around Gideon Mortimer like a specially commissioned painting, was threatening to stop my breath altogether.

He really was too much.

Even as the thought deepened in my mind, he was shrugging off his leather jacket, all fluid grace and masculine beauty, carelessly tossing it away to leave a Black Sabbath T-shirt that moulded to his divine V-shaped torso. My gaze dropped lower to lean hips and powerful thighs. And his tight, masculine arse encased perfectly in his jeans.

Thoughts of sinking my nails into that prime piece of flesh as he penetrated me topped my dirty thoughts with even filthier images. Images that should’ve shamed me but instead just escalated my craving.

For the first time in years, I truly acknowledged my woefully neglected libido and admitted that I needed to get laid.

Pretty. Damned. Soon.

He started to turn. I swallowed before I did something unseemly like drool, and fixed my gaze somewhere over his right shoulder as he approached.

‘What else did you want to discuss?’ I prompted, hoping to get back on an even keel.

He stopped a foot in front of me, stared down at me with narrow-eyed intent, then jerked his head behind him. ‘That window is fantastically reflective. I think it’s only fair that if you’re going to ogle me like that, I should return the favour?’ His voice had grown thick and raspy and, oh, so sinfully delicious.

The punch of heat to my pelvis triggered liquid warmth in my pussy. But I raised my chin in challenge, even as I pressed my thighs together in a useless effort to hide my arousal. ‘I meant business, Mr Mortimer. Let’s talk business.’

‘There’s nothing wrong with admitting you like what you see. I’ll happily supply you with a list of things I like about you, too, if you like.’

I didn’t want to know. I truly, truly didn’t. ‘What makes you think I want to hear such a list?’ Hell, even my voice was a husky mess.

‘I’m taking a leaf out of your book and playing a straight bat, too, Leonora.’ His wicked tongue stroked all over my name. ‘But speaking of business, I meant what I said earlier. What you’ve achieved is impressive. Even more so in such a cut-throat world.’

I didn’t want to be affected by the sincere respect in his eyes and tone but a different sort of warmth licked through my veins. ‘I’m not scared to go after what I want.’

The heat in his eyes receded. ‘I know one or two people who share those views.’

I had the distinct idea we weren’t talking business any more. ‘But not you?’

A hard gleam lit his eyes. ‘Oh, I believe in going after what I want. It’s in my blood, after all.’

‘Oh?’

‘My grandfather was a little like you. He started everything in his life much earlier than strict norms dictated he could,’ he said. ‘He opened his first shop when he was fifteen. Had three more by the time he was seventeen. By twenty-one he was married with two kids and two mistresses stashed on opposite ends of London. He tried to instil that ambitious ideology in his children and grandchildren. Some hit the mark, others didn’t.’

I was aware we’d strayed from the professional but I couldn’t curb my curiosity. ‘And you’re one of those who overachieved before their eighteenth birthday, I’m guessing?’

‘I borrowed ten thousand pounds from the family trust fund after my first term at university. While everyone was obsessed with becoming the next dot-com millionaire, I started an on-campus three-square-meals food delivery service long before it became a thing. I had five universities under my belt and was turning over half a million by the time I was twenty. I had zero interest in food production, but I left university with enough capital to start my own company.’

‘So if you’re following his footsteps, why aren’t you married with a clutch of kids like your grandfather?’ I wasn’t going to ask about extramarital bits on the side. That was beneath me.

Like a storm cloud blotting out the brightest sunshine, his face closed up completely. With a graceful swivel that wouldn’t have been remiss on a male ballet dancer, Gideon turned and started walking away.

‘Where are you going?’

‘Shower,’ he tossed over his shoulder.

‘We still have fifteen minutes.’

‘I’ll be back in five. Or...’ He paused on the threshold of a door I guessed led into a bedroom.

I held my breath. ‘Or?’

‘Killing two birds is still an option. Your choice entirely, though.’ With a mocking grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes, he disappeared into the bedroom.

I couldn’t.

I shouldn’t.

Everything about what I was contemplating was wrong. Unprofessional. And yet my feet moved a second later, drawing me inexorably to the open doorway of Gideon’s bedroom.

He stood next to a four-poster bed, reefing his T-shirt over his head. Once my gaze locked I couldn’t take my eyes off the ripped muscles of his broad, strokeable back displayed in all its indecent glory. My brain was struggling to track when his hand went to the buttons on his jeans.

I must have made a sound because he turned.

Stormy grey eyes drifted over me before he flicked open the first button. ‘Are you sure you want to step over that threshold, Leonora?’ There was something dark, dangerous and a touch apprehensive in his voice. As if he was fighting his own demon.

Absurdly, it was that note that made me a little bit reckless. ‘I’m a big girl, Gideon. A big girl who wants to be done with this meeting.’

His jaw clenched and he turned away. A second later, I imagined I heard him mutter, ‘Shit,’ under his breath but when he turned back around, that expression of sexy male confidence was back. ‘Fine, it’s your funeral,’ he bit out. With that, he coolly stepped out of his jeans, leaving on a pair of boxers that didn’t hide the impressive, mouth-watering bulge behind the thin layer of clinging cotton.

Oh. Sweet. Lord.

The man was really well endowed, and from his swagger as he headed for the bathroom, he knew it.

I was replaying every ripple of sleek muscle when I heard the loud hiss of the shower ten seconds later.

I should leave. Retreat to the living room like a sensible professional before it was too late. But again my feet moved of their own accord, crossing the room to yet another, even more dangerous doorway, my pulse racing like a wild thing.

Was this really happening? Was I really doing this? I met the man less than an hour ago, for heaven’s sake.

A cloud of steam greeted me as I entered. My fingers tightened around my folder as I stared at the parts of Gideon’s body I could see through the gaps in the fog.

One hand was braced on the tiles beneath the shower, while the other sluiced water through his hair. And, holy shit, the reality was way more potent than the fantasy. I wanted to be that water licking over his skin, dipping and sliding over the hard, sleek muscles framing his arse. I wanted to be the gel he grabbed off the shelf and glided lazily over his massive chest, under his arms and lower to his fog-shrouded stomach.

My pussy tingled, my clit plumping and screaming for attention.

‘We can continue this discussion or you can leave. What you can’t do is stare at me like that unless you want to give me specific ideas.’

Heat that had nothing to do with the shower temperature singed my face. Resolutely, I cleared my throat and reopened my folder. ‘I’d like to know about your guests. There’s a confidentiality clause that every crew member signs so their privacy will be protected.’

‘First things first, did you take my advice and relocate your crew members from Monaco?’

‘Not exactly.’

He turned and speared me with piercing grey eyes. ‘One thing you should know about me, Leonora, I despise the nebulous. After you explain what not exactly means, I never want to hear those two words or anything resembling them again.’

‘Has anyone ever told you you’re an unpleasant boor?’

He flashed that grin again but again his eyes remained flat. Clearly, my question about having a wife and kids had struck a nerve that still rankled. I curbed my curiosity as he answered, ‘All the damn time.’

‘And let me guess, you wear it as a badge of honour?’

‘You’re changing the subject. Explain yourself. And if you’re staying in here, come closer. I can barely hear you over the sound of the shower.’

With every cell in my body I wanted to withhold the information. Or miraculously find a different way of sealing the deal that didn’t involve spending almost a month on a boat with this man.

Because my stupid body seemed bent on betraying me, craving him in all the specific ways he’d just suggested.

‘Leonora?’

With a deep breath, I did what I came here to do. Offered myself up on a silver platter. Professionally, of course.

My starving libido and needy pussy could take a running jump.

Directing my gaze to his face and nowhere near his spectacular body, I answered, ‘I’m the extra staff member. I’ll be joining the crew on Monday.’

Several expressions flitted across his face in vivid real time. Anticipation. Hunger. Triumph. Black fury. That last one stayed for a few seconds too long. Then he veered away from me as if he couldn’t stand to look at me. He jerkily sluiced back his wet hair and his shoulders heaved as if he was reining himself in.

It was beyond fascinating to watch.

‘Fuck.’

The word was delivered with such venom I would’ve taken a step back had I not felt more than a little powerful at eliciting such a charged response.

‘Problem?’ The question was a shameless taunt.

He didn’t answer. He continued to stand, head bent beneath the spray.

It prompted me to speak just to defuse the thick tension. ‘Or if you’ve changed your mind and no longer need extra crew, I assure you you’ll still be well catered to.’

Another few beats went by. Then he lifted his head and looked at me, and my stomach dipped as a lethally gorgeous smile spread across his face. ‘I haven’t changed my mind, Leonora. I still want what I want, for good or ill.’

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

That darkness descended on his face again. ‘It means my every instinct suggests it’s a bad idea to take you up on your offer. But I’m going to anyway.’

My mouth dried as he twisted the shower tap off. Steam and silence shrouded us as he stared at me.

‘Why is it a bad idea?’

He speared me with a telling look. ‘Don’t play games, Leonora. You know,’ he said, his voice softly accusing. ‘It’s why you’re in here when you should be safely in the living room. It’s why I’m going to stay put right here while you hand me a towel and leave. Because if I step outside, all bets are off.’

Leave, that voice prompted, a little more insistently. My feet refused to comply.

‘So what? You plan on using me as some sort of litmus test of your control?’ I asked, my voice a husky mess even to my own ears.

‘Yes,’ he answered honestly. ‘I’ve been accused of not having enough...restraint lately.’ Eyes on me, he licked a drop of water that dripped onto his upper lip. ‘So I’d be ever so bloody grateful if you’d hand me the towel, Leonora, and leave.’

I sucked my own lower lip, crazy sensations careening through me as he continued to hold my gaze in the sultry bathroom. ‘Say please,’ I commanded.

His sinful lips slowly parted as he reached out and swiped a slow hand across the glass, clearing a swathe of condensation. His gaze bore deeper into mine, before dropping down my body, and I watched him suck in a pained breath. His eyes were twin pools of turbulent hunger when they met mine again. ‘Please,’ he gritted out.

My hands were nowhere near steady as I plucked a towel off the heated rail and took a step towards the stall door.

The steam was fast dissipating, revealing more of Gideon’s mouth-watering body. In another minute he’d be fully exposed to me.

For another tense few seconds, we stared at each other.

Then those sleek fingers pushed the glass door open and, eyes still holding mine, he held out his hand.

My arm extended but I didn’t let go. Couldn’t. We stayed connected, our breathing turning more frantic as seconds ticked by.

When he snapped the towel from my fingers it was like a gunshot in the heated room.

I didn’t linger to watch him wrap the towel around his lean hips, or step out of the stall. But as I walked away, I knew I’d never been more turned on in my life. Never wanted to fuck another man the way I wanted to fuck Gideon Mortimer.