‘Here?’ He points at the floor with his finger. ‘In this apartment—my apartment—you mean?’
As his words settle into my woolly brain, I glance around. Yes, my current surrounds are similar to Mo’s, in layout, at least, but this apartment is bigger and less extravagantly decorated, I suddenly realise. Very tasteful in a dozen shades of pale.
How did I not realise I wasn’t in Mo’s place when I woke? Apart from the fact the place still feels unfamiliar each morning when I open my eyes, I have only been here a few days. What’s another strange apartment, hey?
‘Personally, I think it has more to do with the vodka.’
I look up, realising my stream of consciousness had actually streamed live.
‘Please, just tell me, what am I doing here? And where exactlyishere?’
Will scratches his sandpapery chin as he considers his answer. And yes, his stubble is almost exactly that colour. ‘I’d say you’re standing pretty much above Mo’s kitchen.’
My gaze drops to the floor, then moves over his shoulder to the window at the other side of the kitchen to a view very similar to Mo’s. Royal parkland.Regents Park, I think Kallie said.
‘You live in the same building?’ He nods. ‘How do you live here?’ How can he afford it, more importantly?
‘I think it’s called squatter’s rights.’
‘Squ—what? I can’t be somewhere illegal!’ My hands cradle my head as it begins to pound painfully. ‘I’ll get kicked out of the country!’
‘Relax,’ Mr Shoulders says, laughing again.
His eyes drift from my face, down over my body to where, from beneath the hem of my nightshirt, I’m possibly showing more than just a little leg.
I’m not sure how, but I feel his gaze like a physical thing, and with it comes a whoosh of remembrance of yesterday evening. The heat and smell of his skin as he’d leaned in to kiss me. His hands possessive and sure. The throb of need as he slid my panties down my legs. It’s all there now, in glorious technicolour, and in the imprint of his fingertips across my skin. And he can see it, too, I’m sure. Just as I can still feel them. Just as sure as I’m standing in front of him.
Who does this pussy belong to?The husky toned question echoes in my head, my core beginning to pulse as though desperate to confirm his ownership.
Oh, my heart. I almost got laid last night.
I came by another’s hand. And mouth. But not...
Vodka or not, the decision was mine to follow Will into that room, and I did so with a clear head.Kind of.And I followed him with a purpose; to move on from the crushing realisation that my coming to London was a mistake.
I close my eyes as I remember the sensation of his tongue pushing into my mouth, wondering what it would feel like between my legs.
I didn’t have to wait long to find out.
But still, this is kind of mortifying. Morning-after awkwardness—and other things that don’t make much sense.
Maybe I need coffee.
‘Please tell me you’ve woken to stranger situations than this.’
‘Absolutely.’ His tone is tinged with humour, and realising how ridiculous I must look standing in the middle of the room, not to mention exposed, I make my way across the wooden floor to the kitchen where I lean my folded arms on the island countertop.
‘I once woke up in a room completely covered in Hello Kitty décor,’ Will begins with a wry smile. ‘I freaked out, thinking I’d somehow ended up in Tokyo, which was bad enough, considering I’d started the night in Soho. Then I started to worry I’d been taken home by a girl of questionable age and the implications ofthatlittle scenario. But, as it turns out, my shit of a friend decided it’d be a laugh to deposit my drunk arse in his daughter’s bedroom while she was at her grandparents for the weekend. Worst Sunday morning of my life, I can tell you.’
‘Okay, so at least I’m not worrying about prison, right?’
‘It’s the little things that help,’ he says, turning to a large refrigerator and pulling out eggs, milk, and some sort of greenery. ‘But in all seriousness, this is my home,’ he adds kindly. ‘We both got a little drunk and a little handsy. Then we came back here. I hoped the fresh air would help, but instead, you collapsed on my bed. Though I’m game to pick up from where we left off.’
‘Ah-ha. Ha.’ It’s not a very convincing laugh.
‘I’m serious.’ And he does look so, apart from where his mouth quirks in one corner as his gaze drops to my breasts. To be fair, they do look sort of perky, balanced braless atop my folded arms.
‘Please, Will,’ I whisper. Only, I’m not sure if I’m asking him to be good or not.
