I bit my lip. “Just a little over six weeks.”
His eyebrows went up.
“This bag is actually deceptively large.”
“My sister has handbags bigger than that bag,” he told me. “She took no fewer thanfivesuitcases the last time she went away for a weekend. I doubt her make-up would fit into your backpack.”
Igrinned. “Well, I don’t wear any make-up, so that frees up a fair bit of space.”
He scanned my face. “No, you don’t, do you?”
Feeling awkward, I looked away from his intense gaze and fixated on his neck. He’d loosened his tie, and some of his throat was showing; it was one of the most subtly sexy things I’d ever seen in my life. I couldn’t decide whether he was being critical or not, but I was inclined to believe he wouldn’t approve of make-up-less women. His ex-wife certainly didn’t swan around with no makeup on. The woman was almost too glamorous to be real.
I swallowed. Poor man having to lug a mousy, awkward woman across London. He probably had better things to be doing. Hopefully, he’d be satisfied with a very brief look at the flat and be on his way without any further inconvenience. I knew why he was doing this. Lord Sterling could not risk me taking any more time off, not with how important I was now to his son. Credit where credit’s due – the man would do anything for his son. I was quite sure that was why he’d been making an effort over the last two weeks to come home earlier. I’d given up trying to leave each time he arrived before seven. He seemed very insistent that he get value for money and wouldn’t even consider me leaving a minute before I was due. I guess he was paying for my time, and rich people tended to know their way around a pound.
And, well… it wasn’tsobad. I wasn’t scared of him anymore. Yes, he was bossy; yes, he could snap at me if he didn’t get his own way; yes, he was a big man, which made him physically intimidating. But he was so kind and caring with his son it was impossible to believe him ever capable of hurting anyone. And the gentle way he put my glasses back on when I’d been struggling to find them; the cashmerecoat that magically appeared for me after he’d deemed mine too thin (he said it was his sister’s cast-off but it looked brand new to my eyes); the way he made an effort to never block me in or obstruct any exit when he was with me, as if he knew how uncomfortable that made me; how sweet he was with his sister for whom he obviously held great affection, even though she was his complete opposite –these things all spoke volumes about the type of man he was.
Ozzie was starting to let his dad listen to his reading now. He still wouldn’t read just to Lord Sterling, but when we curled up on the sofa and he read to me he was okay with his dad sitting next to us. As great as this was for Ozzie, it was playing havoc with my hormones. Especially when Lord Sterling would sit so close that I could feel the heat from his body, and smell his aftershave mixed with his clean male scent. When I allowed myself little peeks at his strong, stubbled jawline and his broad chest under his suit, it actually felt like the desire might be driving me a little insane.
I used to date people years ago, but it never went particularly well. Fear was a real libido killer. But being close to this man over the last two weeks seemed to have woken up my long-lost sex drive.
It was getting ridiculous.
I imagined him doing all sorts of stuff that I’m quite sure in real life would scare the absolute crap out of me. Being pinned down by a large man was my worst nightmare, but being pinned down by Lord Sterling… nowthat(according to my over-active imagination) was a different kettle of fish. And these fantasies were getting dirtier and more creative by the day. He’d called me into his office yesterday to discuss Ozzie’s progress whilst Ozzie watched the telly in the living room, and I couldn’t concentrate on what he was saying. All I could see was the huge dark-wood deskdominating the room, and all I could think about was Lord Sterling picking me up and laying me down on it, surrounded by all that intense masculine energy.
“You seem a little distracted, Clara,” he’d said eventually after I’d had to ask him to repeat himself for the millionth time. I’d bitten my lip and muttered some excuse about sleeping badly (this wasn’t a total lie – my sleep was horrendous and had been since I’d been hurt). He’d looked at me for a long time. Long enough for the heat to start rising in my cheeks and then one corner of his mouth had gone up in a sexy smirk. Sometimes it was as if Lord Sterling could see straight through me, right into my depraved, sex-starved mind. It was very disconcerting.
After the make-up comment and the weird stare-down that followed, his jaw clenched in frustration before he clipped, “Right, let’s get this over with,” and stormed out of the classroom.
I frowned. Why the bloody hell did he offer, or rathercommand,he take me back to my flat if it was such an inconvenience for him? I was out of breath by the time we made it to his car, seeing as my much shorter legs had to practically run to keep up with him. The sleek Aston Martin was parked in the staff car park, but then Lord Sterling likely parked wherever and whenever he wanted with very little consequence. When I drew up next to the passenger seat, he plucked my backpack from my shoulder, gave it a brief, less-than-impressed look before throwing it onto his back seat, then pulled open the passenger door for me to climb inside.
“Oh, thanks,” I panted as I lowered myself in. I was so close to him as I squeezed past that my breathing sped up even more.
“You are cardiovascularly unfit,” he said when he slid into the driver’s seat and started the car.
I bristled and scowled at his unfairly attractive profile, trying to slow my breathing down. “No, I’m not,” I said, annoyed that I was still out of breath, which kind of made his point for him. “Some of us just don’t have giant, giraffe legs, that’s all.”
“You can use my gym,” he offered. His irritation from before had dissipated with my giraffe legs comment, and now he was smiling, the weirdo. Seriously, the more spiky I was with this guy, the happier he seemed. It was bizarre.
Ugh, gym? No thanks. I opted not to say anything, but he could stick his gym up his arse.
I may have been angry but that didn’t stop my eyelids drooping as the car started moving. I’d barely slept last night worrying about going back to the flat, and I’d been in a state of nervous exhaustion all day.
For some reason, sitting in this expensive car with its likely bulletproof glass, next to this strong man who I knew wasn’t going to hurt me, made me feel safer than I had felt in a long time. In my fuzzy brain, I didn’t think to ask how he knew the way to my flat. I just rested my head back against the leather and closed my eyes.
Just for a moment.
Chapter 13
You don’t understand anything
Rafe
“What the hell?”I muttered as I looked up at the grimy block of flats beside me. I was loath to cut the engine. In fact, I was loath to stop here at all. This place was a complete dump. Dodgy area aside, the glass in the front door of the building was smashed. What on earth was Clara doing living here? Was Molton Prep really paying its teaching assistants this poorly?
I looked over at Clara and sighed. She’d fallen asleep just a few seconds into the car journey. As she drifted off, she curled into a small ball with her arms around her legs and her head resting against the leather of the seat. Her glasses were askew now, her long eyelashes leaving shadows over her cheekbones. She looked completely at peace, and it was so at odds with her normal expression that it made me realise how much tension she carried in her facial features when she was awake. In sleep, all that drained away, so much so, it was hard to believe the woman next to me was the same person.
Like this, she was breathtakingly beautiful, and I had the mad urge to keep the engine running all night just to watch her. But that would be a bit creepy. I was Rafe Sterling, a highly respected barrister, voted most sexy lawyer in London the last two years in a row and I wasnotbloody well creepy. So I forced myself to cut the engine.
