‘As are you.’ My eyes fall to his hardening crotch.
He raises a brow, asking for permission, then moves a strong hand under my hair to my neck and pulls me into him. I get lost in his kiss. His hand covers my still-smouldering sex and he dips two skilful fingers inside me. I’m not fully down from my last orgasm and I build almost immediately. I don’t need to open my eyes to know he’ll be pleased with himself.
He turns me away from him and pulls my hips toward him, guiding my arms to the wall in front of me. He strokes his fingers across my clit and back inside me.
‘Perfect,’ he hums.
Spreading my legs wider with his feet, he guides himself to my entrance then holds his position, his hips teasing me.
On one thrust, he’s deep inside me and I lose myself to pleasure I never knew existed just days ago. He pauses. ‘Are you okay?’
I nod my head, unable to speak as he drives into me, one hand pinning my hips, the other massaging my knot. He thrusts again, this time more controlled, finding his rhythm, still reaching the same inspired angle. ‘Fuck, Scarlett, now you’ve given me this, I don’t think I can ever let it go.’ Another gruelling blow.
I know his words are the product of lust but they lift me, together with the intensity of each attack, until I’m ready to tip.
‘Not yet, Scarlett. Together.’
‘I can’t, it’s coming.’
He powers forwards again, brutally. It’s painful but a kind of exquisite pain I’ve never felt. The kind I want to keep coming again and again. Another drive takes me to my limit and I detonate as he fills me.
I feel soft fingertips drawing circles on my clean, naked body as I rest on top of the super king bed.
‘Room service is here; wake up,’ Gregory whispers.
‘Strawberries and champagne. Is this the part where I run to the bathroom to floss and you accuse me of taking drugs?’
His brows furrow.
‘You have seen Pretty Woman?’
‘Oh, right. Yes, I think I have.’
‘You think you’ve seen Pretty Woman? It sounds like somebody needs educating. Do you ever have a movie night? Make your own popcorn, binge on chocolate?’
‘You might have to show me,’ he says, passing me a champagne flute and strawberry as he sits back on the bed, his toned torso displayed by his waist-high, white towel.
Picking up the telephone, he dials 0 and requests popcorn, chocolates and ice cream and asks that someone arrange for Pretty Woman in the Penthouse Suite. ‘Now seems as good a time as any,’ he says simply, as if none of life’s materialities are trouble to him.
With our picnic laid out on the bed and Pretty Woman playing on the oversized television, I nestle into his chest, turning the few fine hairs in my fingers. The last two days have felt just like a movie to me. An exhilarating dream of everything I never knew I was looking for in reality. My very own Richard Gere.
At some point during the night, it becomes apparent to me that I missed the end of Pretty Woman and Gregory has tucked me into the covers, still snuggled into his chest. His heavy arm weighs down on me, pulling me closer to him and his fingers gently stroke my hair.
21
The Harrods bag Gregory brought to the hotel contained skinny, indigo jeans and a Ralph Lauren striped shirt that he had sent to the hospital yesterday to bring with us. After a tussle about me paying him back, which he of course won, I had to admit to being grateful for clean lingerie.
‘I love those boots,’ Gregory says through a cheeky grin as I zip them to the knee. ‘Can I make you mine again today?’
‘You have no idea how much I wish I could say yes but I want to see my dad.’
‘Of course you do. Later maybe?’
‘You’re not sick of me yet?’ I laugh but it’s quickly stifled by his serious face. ‘I’ll give you a call when I’m done at the hospital.’
We drive back towards London, talking easily. In fact, everything is so comfortable between us, it’s almost surreal. Gregory has an opinion on just about everything: business, law, the world. But it’s not annoying or self-righteous; it’s informed and intelligent. There’s a warmth in my chest as I watch the way he moves and speaks.
That feeling disappears when we pull up to the entrance of the hospital. Something feels off: wrong, not safe or right. An eerie sensation makes me shiver and the hairs prick up on my arms. I’m watching the sky turn dark and the world grow small around me from outside my own body. I don’t remember whether or how I say goodbye to Gregory as I leave the car and float to the hospital entrance.
