London Falling (Falling #2)(51)

My shoulders sagged.

“Doesn’t mean I don’t either.”

The tension was back.

“You are wound so tight!” She laughed. “I think we’ll have to do something about that, though we could have done something about that before, had someone let go of his gentlemanly side,” she teased.

“Sorry, love. A gentleman doesn’t just take…well, he does, but usually after he’s given his woman a nice meal and an evening.”

She giggled. London Kelley giggling was utterly priceless. I’d strive to make that sound come from those berry-red lips again.

“So finish. Explain how you are a life coach and designer. The two don’t really go together per se.”

“Not conventionally. Basically, I spend a month learning about the person, getting to know their likes, dislikes, the things that make them who they are. We discussed this on our last date.”

I smiled over my glass taking a long pull from the fruity wine.

“Let me put it into real life. For example, the Maxwell reveal you went to.”

I nodded so she’d continue uninterrupted.

“I had to help him open his life to a woman. He was in an endless cycle of one-nighters in between the one woman he wanted, Michele.” Sounded familiar.

“His girlfriend?”

“She wasn’t then. She was the one woman he rotated between his flights of fancy. So I made his apartment something that would open him up to the idea of having a woman stay there.”

“Did you sleep with him?”

“Yes,” she said without hesitation.

Jealousy rippled through me and spun me like a racecar circling round and round an endless track.

“Why?” I choked down the scathing tone, drowning my irritation in several gulps of sweet wine. Her eyes narrowed and she watched me carefully.

“Because I wanted to. Because I could. Because he was willing. I don’t really need a reason.” Her answer was so flat and unfeeling. It tightened my chest like a strait-jacket. “It wasn’t until I got to know him that I realized what he needed. Sometimes part of that process is enjoying a few tumbles in the sack.”

God, she was so callous and flippant about it, about opening up her body. I wondered if that was how she saw me and this thing between us? She took a sip of her wine and the set her glass down. Her eyes bored into mine.

“I made sure he asked Michele out and brought her home. He’d never actually brought her to his home before, preferring the distance. Once he brought her there, worshipped her in a place that was perfect for sharing with someone you care about, we were done.” She shrugged and tilted her head to assess me. The designing was actually her tool to do the higher valued work. The coaching secured the best possible end result. A well-rounded happy client.

I took several deep breaths, trying to contain my jealousy over her admitting to sleeping with Maxwell. “Excuse me, I’ll be right back. I need a moment.” Instead of ranting and raving, I rushed through the restaurant and made my way to the loo. Once inside, I laid my head against the cool wooden door. Fuck. Get your shite under control Collier. She’s not with that man anymore. She’s with you. You’ve had many one night stands of your own. Look at things from her perspective. She’s a beautiful, single widow who’s been hurt by love. Who wouldn’t want to bury their sorrows in willing flesh? You’re guilty of the same thing.

Deep breath in. Deep breath out. Time to start fresh.





Chapter - 13





Shit. Shit. Shit.

My honesty was going to be the end of me. At the very least, the “finale” of whatever this was with Collier.

His body language was off the charts jealous when I admitted to sleeping with some of my clients. Jesus, what if he asked me if I’m sleeping with my current client? With Dylan? It’s not as if I haven’t dropped hints that I’d had sex recently, prior to our first night together. I was honest with him when I said I wouldn’t sleep with anyone else, effectively committing my body to only him. For the time being anyway.

I felt him before I saw him. He was apparently struggling, trying not to go off half-cocked.

I stood to greet him. His eyes were cloudy and tension pumped off his long, muscular form, tugging at my heart. Before he could sit, I clasped his hand. Nervous energy jolted me as I laced our fingers together. The moment our palms touched a wave of heat spilled through every neuron and sizzled, popped and crackled like Rice Krispies. It’s was too much, that single touch. It floored me with its magnetic pull, surprising and disastrous at the same time. Being with Collier, touching him, connecting our bodies was jolting, shocking, abrasive, and eruptive like a volcano, bursting at the seams after years of dormancy.

“You feel it, too?” I whispered as he tugged me close. Our noses touched lightly.

“Anyone within a mile could feel this.” He held me tight as I brought my lips to his. “It’s magical,” he breathed into my mouth as I kissed him.

Sparks flew and that volcano within exploded into a burning ball of fire, consuming everything in its path. My shoulder blades, the sensitive skin of my lower back, even my ass. I felt the ultimate heat. When he bunched my skirt a bit and pressed his erection hard against my center, scalding, white-hot pressure forced a need so strong through me that I practically crawled inside of him. His mouth, his chest, against his manhood. I wanted nothing but to take him into my body.