Resisting Mr. Kane (London Mister #2)(53)

“That’s sweet, you and Danny must be very close.” I hesitate. “Is it hard not living with him permanently?”

His expression darkens. “Yes. It kills me every day.”

I sip my wine. There are so many questions I want to ask. “Do you and your ex-wife get along? When she is not trying to kill you with dinnerware.”

He lets out a strangled laugh. “I forgot you witnessed that.”

I haven’t.

His dark brows knit and something that looks a lot like pain flashes across his face. Perhaps I’m not competing with all the women in the online pictures. Perhaps I’m competing with just one.

“She burnt me pretty badly.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

His jaw hardens. “No. Let’s enjoy the evening.”

That’s annoying. It’s niggling me. Did he split up with her because he stopped loving her or because she hurt him?

The hand that rests on my thigh starts tracing circles. Tingly shivers course through me.

"Do you feel that? he asks hoarsely. “There's so much chemistry between us. You drive me wild, Elly."

He finds my hand under the table and places it on his thigh. My fingers graze his bulge as he leans forward and pulls my mouth against his.

Garlic alert, garlic alert! I’ve eaten too much garlic with the snails.

But this is nice. Fuck the trainee contract. Fuck the fancy restaurant and the overly attentive waiting staff. I need this. I need him.

"Tristan," I rasp. "We're in a restaurant."

"My restaurant," he grunts. “No one can see us here.”

I spread my hand over his dick. It’s warm and hard and exactly what I’ve been craving. He groans into my mouth then deepens the kiss. His hand finds my thigh again and slowly traces a line up my leg until it's under the hem of my dress. I cling to him, my fingers digging into his biceps.

His fingers dance around the same spot just inches below my core.

Damn tease.

My core pulses with months’ worth of sexual frustration. I need this so badly.

I catch a glimpse of my wide eyes and flushed cheeks in the mirror. "This better not be a two-way mirror into the kitchen," I mutter.

He lets out a deep throaty laugh. "No, sweetheart, it’s just us."

His fingers continue to skirt over my inner thigh, and I feel myself getting damp. I'm so wound up already, this is embarrassing.

“Tonight, Elly, I’ll give you everything you want. I’ll finish what I started in the elevator. I've missed hearing your little moans," he whispers against my ear.

I stare at him as his words make their way from my brain to other areas of my body.

God help me.

***

We find the restraint to calm down and finish every drop of the bottle of champagne and the bottle of 2009 something wine.

Thank God it’s not a school night.

My defences have fallen so low I don’t care if there’s a slot at next week’s all-staff call to explain how the CEO got me all hot and bothered in a French restaurant.

“Will you accompany me back to my house, Elly?” He raises his eyebrows in question.

“Actually, I can’t,” I say reluctantly. “I have to be up at 5 in the morning for a train to Wales. I haven’t even packed yet.”

He frowns. “Can you book a later train?”

“No.” I sigh. “It’s my mum’s birthday. I’ve got a surprise booked. I have to get that train to make it on time.”

“I’ll get you a car to Wales.” He goes to pick up his phone. “If that’s too slow, I can arrange a chopper.”

My eyebrows shoot up. A chopper?

“No.” I grab his arm. “Don’t be ridiculous!” I tug his hand away from the phone, interlacing my fingers with his. “I’m leaving from my house tomorrow,” I say firmly, more out of principle than desire. He can’t get his way every time, and I need to keep some self-respect. “Maybe we can do this…another time,” I suggest.

He gives me an exasperated look. “Let me get this straight—the only way I can continue seeing you tonight is if I go back to your hippy commune?”

I stifle a giggle at the thought. “I don’t remember dishing out an invite,” I reply cockily.

He won’t do it. There’s no way Tristan Kane is going to spend a night in my house-share. It’s his way or the highway.

“Elly.” He exhales hard, a defeated look crossing his face. “Can I come back to yours, please?”

I bite my lip to stop a goofy smile from taking over my face. “I suppose.”

“I’ll get the bill and call George,” he says, beckoning to the waiter.

“It’s a few stops on the underground, Princess.” I scoff. “That will be quicker.”

Trying it Megan’s way, I pop a shoulder out. That’ll show him who’s boss.





17




Elly

“Are you stockpiling toilet paper in case there’s another pandemic?” He stares at the pile of rolls under my dresser.

“I didn’t think you’d be back here tonight,” I huff. “Or I would have hidden those.” I have to hide them in my room because nobody replaces them but me. I’m sick of bankrolling their ass wipes.