Читать книгу The Dare Collection January 2020 - Lauren Hawkeye, A.C. Arthur - Страница 25

WE TOUCHED DOWN in London a few days later and, although I’d done my best to hide my growing tension, I knew Thea had picked up on it.

She kept throwing me concerned looks as we disembarked from the corporate jet, apparently not bothered by the grey and gloomy day London had produced to welcome us.

Perhaps asking her to come with me hadn’t been the best decision. Maybe I should have asked someone else, someone less interested in me and less perceptive. Someone less vulnerable. Someone who didn’t look at me with those big, dark eyes and tell me that there had been times when she’d wondered why her parents hadn’t left her any sign that they’d cared about her. And if that reason was her.

I shouldn’t have said anything that day. I should have smiled and kissed her, distracted her. But I hadn’t. My chest had gone tight and every single one of my protective instincts had woken up and taken notice, as if a part of me knew exactly what she was talking about and ached that no had cared for her the way she ached.

I hadn’t been able to stop myself telling her what she needed to hear: the truth. That she wasn’t ordinary in the slightest, that she was rare and precious—priceless. Because she was all those things. Even I could see that and I’d only been with her a handful of nights.

I hadn’t thought it would cost me anything to say it, that the words would be easy because they were just words. But saying them had cost me. They’d reminded me of what it was like to have someone in my care, which was everything I’d been trying to avoid.

They also reminded you of how good it is to be important to someone.

Ah, fuck. I didn’t want that either. I was important to all the people who worked for me, and I was important to Everett and Ulysses. That was all I needed, nothing else.

What I did not need was Thea being concerned about me, that was for sure. Which made it a good thing that Morgan wasn’t waiting for us once all the customs formalities had been taken care of.

Perhaps she was as uncomfortable about my presence here as I was.

Considering it had been five years, it was no wonder.

Thea and I went straight to the penthouse apartment of a building I owned on a bank of the Thames which had a great view of Tower Bridge. Not that I was planning on looking at the view. The launch of the Black and White Foundation was in a couple of days and I was hoping to spend as much of that time as possible naked with Thea.

I’d worked for most of the flight from Hong Kong, leaving her to her own devices, but I’d been achingly conscious of her, curled up in her seat, flicking through a magazine. I’d totally gone to town on choosing clothing for her—including a fucking magnificent gown for the launch that I couldn’t wait to see her in—but she seemed to prefer comfort over style; the past couple of days she’d worn nothing but stretchy black yoga pants and a T-shirt, today’s being red. I didn’t mind. She looked incredibly sexy in it, though all things being equal I preferred her wearing nothing at all.

In fact, the whole goddamn flight I wanted to strip the clothing from her and eat her up there and then, especially because the closer to London I got the more the tension inside me gathered. But work needed to be done, so I busied myself with that instead and pretended the tension didn’t exist.

I was pretending it didn’t exist now as I stood in the living area of the apartment, my hands in fists in the pockets of my suit trousers as Thea walked over to the windows, gazing out at the view of the Thames and Tower Bridge, one of her rare smiles lighting her lovely face.

I’d had the same interior designer who’d done my place in Hong Kong do something similar here, though they’d kept all the furniture here white, the floors hardwood and covered in thick, colourful and no doubt insanely expensive silk Persian rugs.

Restlessness filled me, and my cock was already getting hard, wanting to push Thea up against those big windows and tear her clothes off. But that was the tension talking, and I wasn’t going to let it get to me, so I stayed where I was and asked instead, ‘You haven’t been to London before?’

‘No. Mr Chen did all the international work. And since he died all the jobs I’ve had have been in Hong Kong.’

I moved over to where she stood, took a look out at the view and then turned around, stalking back to where I’d been standing. ‘Do you enjoy what you do? I guess you must if you’re still doing it.’

She turned towards me. ‘Most of it involves lots of research—which can be interesting—and then planning. Then lots of waiting around for the right opportunity.’ Her gaze narrowed. ‘What’s wrong?’

‘What do you mean, what’s wrong?’

‘You’re...’ she gestured ‘...pacing.’

I could feel my mouth curving in its usual bullshit smile. ‘Nothing. Just a little restless.’

‘It’s more than that. You’re incredibly tense.’

Fuck. I’d hoped she wouldn’t notice, but of course she had. As I’d already discovered, she was incredibly observant.

Realising I’d paced over to the windows again, I forced myself to stop, giving her a smoky look. ‘Of course I’m tense. It’s been hours since I was last inside you.’

‘It’s not that. The whole way to London you almost didn’t sit down once and, ever since we got here, you’re all...tight.’ She came over to me and put her hands on my chest as if she’d been doing it all her life, pressing lightly against me, concern in her eyes. ‘What is it? The launch?’

But I didn’t want to have this discussion so I leaned down and kissed her, taking her bottom lip between my teeth and biting down gently, hoping some distraction would work instead.

Except she didn’t move and didn’t kiss me back. She merely stood there, as if she was waiting until I was done.

Irritated, I lifted my head. Colour had risen to her cheeks and I caught the familiar glint of hunger in her eyes—she definitely wasn’t immune to a good kiss, that was for sure. Yet she clearly wasn’t going to be distracted either.

Fuck.

I let her go. ‘I need to get some work done.’

But her hands were settled in the middle of my chest and they stayed there, her steady gaze meeting mine. ‘Damian.’

‘What?’ I tried to keep the impatience out of my voice and failed.

She didn’t move and she said nothing, letting her calm silence speak for her.

I could have walked away at that point. I should have. I didn’t have to stand there and tell her what was going on, because I certainly didn’t fucking want to. I could have gone and worked out my tension in the penthouse gym or covered her mouth and used one of the tricks I knew she liked to make her forget her own name, let alone the question she’d asked me.

But her hands on me were warm, and they felt good. And the expression in her eyes wasn’t demanding. Only patient. As if she was happy to stand there all day, waiting until I was ready to talk to her.

There was a gentleness to her that I couldn’t resist, and a genuine concern that I hadn’t seen in anyone else’s face for a very long time.

No, because you make sure you keep everyone at a distance.

Yeah, I did. And I’d thought I was happy with that. More than happy with it. I didn’t need anyone, didn’t want anyone, and that was good, because then no one would need or want me.

Yet right now, with her looking at me, that excuse felt hollow, leaving an emptiness inside me that felt almost...painful.

Would it really be so bad to talk to her? To let her in just a little? It didn’t have to be far and, after all, I’d already told her a few things about my past and about myself. What could a few more hurt?

‘Look,’ she said softly, breaking the silence. ‘You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. I’m not trying to pressure you and I don’t want to make whatever it is worse.’

‘What do you want to know?’ I wasn’t sure why I asked. It wasn’t as though I particularly wanted to hear the answer.

‘Because...well...’ She glanced down at her hands on my chest. And there was a long silence. Then she said, ‘Because I want to help. Because you matter, Damian.’

Something inside me clenched tight at the same time as something else relaxed, which made no fucking sense.

I didn’t want to matter. Not to her or anyone else.

Yes, you do. Why else have you kept her with you?

Because I wanted to fuck her. Because I needed a date and couldn’t get anyone else. That was it. End of goddamn story.

Liar. You’ve already fucked her, numerous times. And you could have found yourself a different date.

I ignored the thought, sullen anger beginning to burn in my gut. At myself for bringing her here when I should have just got rid of her; for dragging this out unnecessarily and potentially opening her up to hurt. And at her, too. And, yes, I knew it wasn’t fair, but I was angry at her anyway. For letting me matter when she shouldn’t have.

‘Don’t do that.’ I tried to keep the harsh edge out of my voice, laying my hand over hers where it rested on my shirt to soften the words. ‘Mattering to each other is not what we’re here for, remember?’

This time she didn’t look away. ‘No, but you said this was about making each other feel good. And you’re definitely not feeling good right now.’

I could feel my jaw get tight. ‘I was talking about sex, Thea. Not anything else.’

‘Right.’ Her dark eyes flickered, thick, black lashes coming down to conceal her expression. ‘Sorry.’ She made as if to pull away, but I could hear the pain in that carefully neutral word. I’d hurt her. Fuck.

Instinctively I held her hands against my chest, preventing her from moving. Because hurting her had never been my intention.

Jesus, next you’ll be thinking she matters.

I gritted my teeth, shoving the thought away. Shit, all I’d wanted was some good times, some fun and pleasure for both of us, nothing too deep, nothing too heavy. But this was turning into something I hadn’t expected and I didn’t like my reaction to it.

Perhaps if she knew the truth she’d understand.

Yeah, well, maybe it was time to be straight with her. I couldn’t have her getting any more involved than she was already.

She was looking up at me, a question in her eyes, and suddenly her touching me was too much so I stepped back, letting her hands drop away.

‘It’s not you,’ I said before she could say anything.

She clasped her hands together as if she didn’t know what to do with them. ‘So I’m going to get the “it’s not you, it’s me” speech?’

Shit. I should have been clear right from the beginning, shouldn’t I? I should have told her exactly what she was getting into with me, and now I’d left it too late.

Because you’re a selfish prick, remember?

‘You want to know why I’m tense?’ I said harshly, shoving the thought out of my head. ‘It’s because I haven’t been to London for years.’

‘Oh? Why?’

There was something heavy in my chest, like a big fucking rock that just sat there, unmoving. ‘Because Morgan lives here.’