Total pages in book: 194
Estimated words: 183150 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 916(@200wpm)___ 733(@250wpm)___ 611(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 183150 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 916(@200wpm)___ 733(@250wpm)___ 611(@300wpm)
‘You did better than I expected.’ he says on a raised brow.
‘I prefer sleepy sex.’ I grumble, falling forward onto his chest.
His hands come around to secure me against him. ‘I prefer sleepy sex too.’ He traces circles across my back.
Okay, today, I really, really love him. And it’s only six thirty in the morning. But I should bear in mind that a lot can change and very quickly with Mr Jesse Ward. Give it an hour and I might have disobeyed or not conformed, and then, very suddenly, I’m dealing with crazy mad, Mr Unreasonable Control Freak and being given the countdown or a sense fuck – I’ll take the sense fuck, I’ll leave the countdown.
‘Come on, lady. We can’t frolic in the grass all day, you have work to do.’
Yes, I do. And we’re miles from Lusso. I’m actually closer to Kate’s than I am to Jesse’s, but my things are at Jesse’s so it looks like I’m taking the long option. I heave myself up from his chest and stand. I’m slightly wobbly on my feet. Jesse, of course, rises to his feet like a dolphin gliding across the calm ocean. He makes me sick.
He wraps an arm around my shoulder and walks us onto Piccadilly, flagging a taxi down and bundling me in.
‘You brought money for a taxi?’ I ask. He knew I wouldn’t make it?
He doesn’t answer. He just shrugs and yanks me across the taxi into his arms.
I feel a little guilty for cutting his run short, but not too much. I’m too beat to dwell on it for long.
I’m dragged, quite literally, through the foyer of Lusso and into the elevator. I feel like I’ve been awake for a month, when, in reality, it’s not even been two hours. I’ve no idea how I’m going to make it through the day.
When we reach the penthouse, I collapse on a bar stool in the kitchen, resting my head on my arms. My breathing is only just returning to normal.
‘Here,’
I look up and find a bottle of water being waved under my nose. I take it gratefully, swinging the lovely ice liquid and wiping my mouth with the back of my hand.
‘I’ll run a bath.’ He looks at me in sympathy, but I detect a little enjoyment mixed in there too. The smug bastard! I’m lifted from the stool and carried upstairs in my usual chimp like manner.
‘I don’t have time for a bath, I’ll have a shower.’ I say as he places me on the bed. What I would do to crawl under the covers and emerge sometime next week.
‘You have plenty of time. We’ll grab some breakfast and go to The Manor mid-morning. Now, stretch.’ He drops a kiss on my sweaty forehead and turns towards the bathroom.
We’ll go to The Manor? What for? Realisation kicks in before my brain has a chance to instruct my mouth to blurt the question. He was completely serious when he permanently marked out my diary for the rest of the academic year?
Oh, shit!
The one hundred grand is to keep Patrick quiet while he gets his fix of me, morning, noon and night. Oh, bloody hell. What about my other clients – Van Der Haus being the most important other client? He alone will boost Patrick’s turnover tenfold. Oh God, I feel a trample coming on.
‘Jesse, I need to go to the office.’ I try for a calm and reasonable tone. I don’t know why I picked this one in particular. As appose to what? Demanding? Ha!
‘No, you don’t. Stretch.’ Is the straight flat answer, followed by a terse demand that I get thrown back at me from the bathroom.
I’m going to lose my job. I know it. He’ll get his fix, trample all over my social life and career, and then drop me like a hot potato. I’ll be job-less, friend-less, heart-less and, most frighteningly, Jesse-less. I feel light headed. What am I going to do? I’m too exhausted to run away at the start of a countdown – not that I would get very far, even firing on all cylinders. And a sense fuck will probably finish off my already strained heart.
‘All of my equipment is at the office. My computer programmes, reference books, everything.’ My voice is small.
He presents himself at the doorway of the bathroom, chewing his lip. ‘And you need all that stuff?’
‘Yes, to do my job.’
‘Okay, we’ll stop by your office.’ He shrugs and returns to the bathroom.
I throw myself back on the bed in exasperation. What in God’s name am I going to say to Patrick? I exhale a weary sigh. He’s lead me into a false sense of security by bringing me home in a taxi and carrying my tired body up the stairs when my legs felt like they could give out. I’m just as deluded as he is. I’m never going to be in control.