That One Moment (Lost in London #2)(51)

I chuckle, feeling amused at how I must look wrapped in her duvet. Honestly, who has crushed velvet anymore? I throw my legs over the edge of the bed and stretch while ruffling my hair. Fuck, I slept well. That’s quite different for me as well. I grab my jeans up off the floor and slide them on as I pad barefoot into the attached bathroom that I never even got around to seeing last night.

I’m stunned by a huge soaker tub resting smack dab in front of yet another floor-to-ceiling window. It faces north over the city, and a surge of possessiveness rushes over me as I envision Vi’s naked body covered in bubbles, bathing out in the open for all of London Bloody England to see. Surely she doesn’t use this bathroom. How the f*ck does she think this is a good idea? I make a mental note to have a proper talk with her about window fixtures.

Fuck Hayden. You need to put a pin in your brooding caveman.

A large, glass, walk-in shower with two stainless steel waterfall showerheads sits on the opposite wall. Straight ahead is a modern black and white double vanity sink.

“Bloody hell,” I say, marveling a bit over all things Vi. Her style and her personality are all over this flat. Minimalist and strikingly beautiful, with an edge of surprise around every corner.

I relieve myself and head over to the sink to wash my hands. She obviously is not hard up. Truthfully, as far as money goes, we are similar. My father’s furniture distribution centre made us very comfortable growing up. My mother was able to stay home with us when we were kids, so we had a traditional English upbringing.

But Vi being raised solely by a former professional footballer turned manager had to be different. I know from news articles that her brother Gareth makes over two hundred million pounds a year. It’s not even the money that impresses me…or the fame. It’s the lifestyle. I wonder what Vi does for fun outside of her brothers’ very public lifestyles?

Now it appears she’s trying to gain some independence from her family, whereas I’m relying on mine more than ever. Last night with her was definitely…unexpected. I was trying to convince myself I had to leave her be and avoid her at all costs. But seeing her at the club with Ethan pushed me over the edge. I realised in that moment that if it isn’t Ethan, it will be somebody else. That’s when I knew just how tightly Vi has me in her grips. Possessiveness isn’t a trait I’m familiar with, but f*ck I feel it when it comes to her.

Vi is just…refreshing. She’s beautiful and warm, a bit quirky, and a mess in some of the most adorable ways. But she’s so f*cking charming that I can hardly stand being away from her even right now. I pop a new tip on her electric toothbrush, brush my teeth, wash my face, and then quickly head out to find her. My body actually aches to touch her again. Sleeping with her all night was oddly…calming.

I used to sleep with Reyna occasionally during our dark and twisted time together. She’d have these horrid reoccurring dreams and I was her anchor to help bring her back down to reality. I would rarely even fall asleep at her flat, because all I could do was stew about the fact that I was falling for her and could never bring myself to tell her.

And now, after only one week with Vi, I’m laying everything out on the table. Fucking therapy has ruined my alpha bloke status.

The large glass patio door in the living room is wide open and I see Vi outside, walking carefully with a large dog bowl of water. Suddenly, Bruce comes bounding toward her from the other side of the deck. She cries out for him to stop, but it’s too late. His momentum is out of control. He clobbers into her and the bowl goes flying along with Vi into a slopping heap on the ground.

“Bugger…Fuck a duck, Bruce!” she cries as he pounces on top of her until she’s forced back on her arms. He laps happily at her face, shoving his nose into her neck. “You vile monster. I’m getting you in classes. I mean it. You’ve pushed me for the last time!”

I chuckle quietly, crossing my arms and leaning against the doorway to watch her. She’s dressed in a tiny pair of black spandex shorts and a loose white tank. My dick stirs when she stands up and turns and I get a full frontal glimpse of her. A crystal clear outline of a pair of pert pink nipples shows through the wet front of her tank. She starts giggling as Bruce begins licking water off her leg. “Stop buttering me up, beast. It won’t work.”

My eyes twinkle at her with an affection I feel everywhere in my body. “You know you’re not fooling anyone,” I say from the doorway and she jumps, her blue eyes flying up to me in surprise.

“What do you mean?” She awkwardly tugs her wet top away from her breasts. Her blonde locks are hastily scraped up into a high ponytail in that “I just rolled out of bed” way.

“You can call him all the ghastly names in the book, but it doesn’t take a mind reader to know how much that beast means to you.”

“Well, don’t tell him.” She leans over and covers his ears and whispers, “If he thinks I like him, he’ll be even more of an arse.”

I chuckle and stride out onto the patio, flopping down on one of the white lounger chairs, absently realising this is the most comfortable I’ve ever felt around a woman the morning after sleeping together. Or not sleeping together I guess you’d say.

“Where did you get Bruce?” I ask, propping my hands behind my head and squinting up at her. “I’d envision you as more of a Cavalier King Charles spaniel type of bird…or maybe a pug.”