One Night Only / No Strings. JC Harroway
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of the pie. But even drafting a complex and lengthy contract hadn’t dragged his mind away from the fascinating Essie.
He sighed, succumbing to the inevitable. Every muscle clenched and his cock thickened. He gave it a couple of lazy tugs as the memory of Essie’s whimpers and her cries echoed inside his head...
Ash slammed his eyes open and slapped the tile beside the showerhead. Here he was thinking about the other ways he’d like to fuck her, when there wasn’t going to be a next time. There should never have been a first time.
He’d been done with women even before he’d set foot on English soil. Plus she was Ben’s sister and now his club’s temporary manager. An employee. And, more importantly, someone he couldn’t trust.
Perhaps he could fire her? Employ a replacement manager before Ben returned from his trip and say it hadn’t worked out with Essie. But Ben, quite rightly, wouldn’t tolerate the slight. And if it came out that Ash had fucked his little sister and then fired her for humiliating him, their longstanding friendship wouldn’t survive. And right now, Ash needed his friend—the only friend he could be certain hadn’t known what his fiancée had really been up to all those years ago.
Her dumping him practically at the altar had left him struggling to trust the opposite sex, but his father’s recent revelations and the public backlash had thrown Ash into a tailspin until he no longer knew which way was up and who he could rely upon not to snigger behind his back.
Of course, Ben didn’t know the latest twist, the one that had prompted Ash’s departure from New York. How the third wheel in his past relationship—the work colleague she’d claimed to have cheated with—had been nothing but a ruse. A decoy to stave off the marriage his ex had no longer wanted and conceal what had really been happening. Ash closed his eyes against his own reflection in the glass. Some things were so shameful they couldn’t be shared, no matter how good the friend.
He completed his shower routine with a bitter taste in his mouth. A taste that morphed into the sweetest honey when Essie slipped back into his mind. With her blue eyes blazing and indignation thickening her accent and giving her extra height...he’d wanted to kiss her pinched-with-disapproval mouth and haul her spectacular ass out of his club at the same time.
She’d duped him. And no one duped him any more. He made sure of that in his professional sphere; his uncompromising reputation had become legendary.
And personally...? Fuck, there he was a mess. But he’d get there if it killed him. He’d claw back control, starting with his libido and the temptation threatening to derail him in the shape of Essie Newbold.
Now he had to spend the next two months both avoiding her and checking up on her so she had no opportunity to hoodwink him again. Not to mention hiding the fact he’d fucked her from his best friend, all the while fighting the urge to repeat the mistake.
Hi, Ben, how was New York? You know how I never date? Yeah, you understand why... Well, just FYI, I fucked your shiny new sister and I wouldn’t mind having another crack at it, no strings. Hope you don’t mind...
For a man who loved the law, loved truth and valued honesty and loyalty, he had certainly waded in some pretty murky waters recently. And it messed with his already reeling head.
He’d thought a satisfying night with the bubbly, curvaceous redhead would soothe his battered pride and redress the balance. But all it had done was land him deeper in the shit and reaffirm his stance on trusting no one.
Slamming out of the fogged-up cubicle, Ash threw a towel over his head and scrubbed at his hair. Looping that one around his damp shoulders, he quickly towelled his legs dry and then wrapped the second towel around his waist.
Just as he’d finished cleaning his teeth, he heard the noise and froze, every sense on high alert.
Someone was inside his apartment.
His SW1 penthouse apartment equipped with state-of-the-art security.
‘Um, hello...?’ A female voice.
Tossing the towel from around his neck, he strode from his en-suite bathroom, expecting perhaps to find the building manager or the cleaner he’d hired to ready the place for his arrival.
He came to a halt just inside his bedroom.
Essie stood in the doorway, her cheeks flushed as if she’d been running and her mouth hanging open as her stare took a slow, sensual meander over his naked torso. Her hot eyes settled on his groin.
He’d been hard most of the day, thinking about her and their night together. Hard in the shower, tempted to bang one out just to attain a measure of relief from the memory of her tight warmth gripping him. And now here she was. Wide eyes touching every inch of his bare skin, and the hard again parts of him behind the towel.
Her chest lifted and fell with shallow pants, which pushed her luscious, pert breasts in his direction. Having taken her time leisurely touring his body, she met his stare again.
He lifted one brow, lips twitching, tempted to fling off the towel so she could really go to town.
‘You wanted something?’ Had she come for a do-over? Fuck—that was refreshing.
It wasn’t his usual style, but damn if he wasn’t seriously considering bending the rules and bending her over. Just to clarify that it had been as ball-emptying as he remembered.
No. He didn’t do second times. Clearly his libido was on New York time.
She stuttered back to life. ‘I... I... Ben needs you to sign these forms for the bank. He couldn’t get hold of you.’ A pretty pink flush stained her chest above the neckline of her dress, which still bore this morning’s coffee stain. It did nothing to diminish her allure. If anything, it heightened her attractiveness, a sign she was human, clumsy and lacked the vanity to rush home and change.
‘I was in the gym and then the shower. How did you get in?’ He took the folder from her and tossed it onto the bed. Perhaps he should offer her the use of his washer and dryer...get another glimpse of that phenomenal body.
Wishful thinking, asshole.
The phone in her hand buzzed, and she glanced at it, distracted.
He dropped his towel as if he were alone and strode to the dresser, selecting a fresh pair of black cotton boxers. If she chose to waltz into his home uninvited...
‘For goodness’ sake—do you have to?’
He shot her a look, the underwear he’d been about to don still dangling from his hand. Why should he be alone in this fierce, futile and, frankly, damned inconvenient attraction? Time to play with her a little.
‘Hey, you saunter into my home, uninvited. If you don’t want to find a guy naked, I suggest you call or knock first.’
He tugged the boxers on, noting with a slug of satisfaction the way her stare clung to his nakedness until the last second. Or perhaps she was gloating at his steely length, ready for action. But he was only human. She was a beautiful woman with a knockout body—but that didn’t mean he’d act on his unconscious reaction to her. Or his conscious thoughts of splaying her over his bed and fucking her out of his system for good.
Her cheeks flamed.
Another buzz of the phone.
Someone was desperate to get hold of her.
‘Got a hot date?’
She scowled a death stare at him, dropped the phone into her bag and then fisted her hands on her hips as if she couldn’t quite believe his audacity.
Believe away, darling.
‘None of your business.’ She tossed her head with a haughty lift of her chin, the long swathe of russet hair gliding over her shoulders. How would that gorgeous hair look spread over her naked back as he took her from behind; the tips brushing her rosy nipples as he pinned her to the wall and sank to his knees in front of her; spread out over