Page 19 of One Weekend in London

“I’ll be ready and waiting.”

Gaze locked with mine, she reaches behind her back, her fingers seeming to hover near her bra clasp. My mouth goes bone dry as the silk suddenly drifts down to reveal the perfection that is her tits—round and high, dusky-rose nipples drawn into tight points.

“Oh, and, Rhys?”

Dragging my eyes back to hers takes monumental effort. My chest heaves, my muscles screaming and rebelling against the restraint I’m forcing my body to bow to.

The little tease’s smile turns devilish.

“Feel free to skip the underwear tomorrow. Don’t get me wrong, I’m sure you look hot and all in your Calvin Kleins, but you may not be needing them.”

The end of my rope has been reached.

“That’s bloody it. Sadie, I’m coming—”

“Tomorrow, handsome. And don’t forget my phone.”

With a saucy wink, she blows me a kiss and abruptly ends the call. Digital pages of her background check fill my laptop’s screen, her absence leaving me aching, throbbing, and harder than I’ve ever been in my thirty-eight years on this earth.

“Fuck me.”

I groan, squeezing my length even harder, the bite of pain doing little to stop the lust racing through me as I lean my head back and stare unseeing at the ceiling. It takes countless minutes of reciting cricket stats before my blood cools from a boil to a simmer and I look back at my laptop.

And that’s when I see his name.

Right there in front of me.

Maxwell Beaumont. The fucking tosser.

I’d love nothing more than to track the snivelling weasel down. His bit on the side too. To impress upon them, in lurid detail, exactly what I think of lying, cheating, betraying scum. The damage they’ve wrought on my sweet Sadie’s heart—it makes me murderous.

Positively homicidal.

No one will ever wound her like that again. Not while I have a breath in my body. Friend, family, foe, it makes no difference. I will annihilate anyone who threatens her happiness.

With extreme prejudice.

But fantasies of retribution slowly fade.

Instead, my mind fills with tantalising visions of Sadie. Golden and gloriously naked atop my sheets, her wrists fastened to the headboard, legs spread wide.

Quaking and screaming with bliss as I taste every inch of her. Writhing and panting in ecstasy as I adulate her with my hands, mouth, and aching cock.

Sleep will be a lost cause when I’m unbearably desperate to live out each filthy daydream. I resign myself to a long, restless night and an even longer day of fending off intrusive fantasies.

But it’s no matter.

My beautiful Southern belle just flipped my world off its axis and sent me into a tailspin of desire. One only she can satisfy—once I’ve claimed her so thoroughly, she won’t ever imagine being with another.

And I will claim her.

Even if I have to upend the stars to do so.

Believe that.

CHAPTER 8

Sadie

---