Page 5 of Unstitch

Light brown hair, slicked back. He’s an inch or two shorter than Anton, who’s seriously tall, and has a leaner build. I bet he’s athletic, though. Great posture. His eyes are blue and piercing, even in this dim light. He’s hot and patrician and looks like he was brought up with yachts and ski chalets and vintage cars. He’s every British fantasy Ralph Lauren ever had. Even his jaw looks well bred.

Ugh.

He’s in much the same uniform as a lot of the guys here - beige chinos and a white linen shirt.

But it’s none of that stuff that gives me pause, necessarily. It’s his demeanour. If his face is that combination of pretty and chiselled that only the likes of Matt Bomer can usually get away with, everything about the way he’s sizing me up tells me this guy is a fucking animal.

Some people exude sex, and this guy is one of them. So everything falls into place when Anton says, ‘Darce, meet my good mate, Max.’

4

MAX

Iwatch her beautiful face brighten with the light of clarity when Anton says my name.

‘Max,’ she says, her mouth twisting in an amused smirk that tells me she’s heard far too much about me. ‘Got it.’

I don’t take the bait.

‘How do you do?’ I ask as I lean in to kiss her on both cheeks, allowing my free hand to brush her upper arm as I do. She smells like fucking roses and her skin is velvety.

‘I should caveat this entire introduction,’ Anton says with a nervous glance over his shoulder, ‘by saying Gen’s already warned Max off you. And if she finds out I’ve facilitated your meeting, there’ll be hell to pay.’

Darcy cocks her head as she openly surveys me once again. ‘I bet she has.’ I suspect she knows all about my previous encounters with her older sister, but even I have enough emotional intelligence not to rub Anton’s nose in the fact that the love of his life has, in fact, shagged his best friend. Even if he was the Master of Ceremonies for that little party.

‘Yeah.’ He looks over his shoulder again. Bloody hell, Gen has truly pussy whipped this powerful man beyond all recognition. ‘Unfortunately for me—and you—Max is very persuasive.’

‘I am.’ I grin at Darcy. ‘And I always get what I want.’

‘Is that a fact?’ she asks before taking a sip of her drink through her straw. I watch her lips close around the paper and marvel at how seductive that little gesture is.

‘Mate,’ I say to Anton, suddenly impatient for an opportunity to work my charm on her. ‘You can clear off now.’

‘No.’ He looks from me to Darcy and back. ‘I?—’

‘Go,’ I tell him. ‘I’m sure Gen’s wondering where you are.’

That does it. He begins to back away. ‘Okay, well’—he waggles a finger at me—‘behave yourself. All right? There’s an entire garden full of women to fuck. But don’t. Touch. Darcy.’

I roll my eyes at him and wait until he’s disappeared off to find his paramour before turning my attention back to Darcy. I take a couple of steps closer, effectively caging her in at the bar.

Fuck, she’s stunning. This little black dress is a fucking joke—I can see her pert nipples outlined in the centre of her perfectly round tits. The stretchy fabric showcases every spectacular curve, and her chestnut hair falls in soft waves over her shoulders. She has the same big blue eyes as her sister, but facially they’re quite different. Darcy’s face is more elfin.

‘The problem with being told not to do something,’ I muse aloud as I look down at her, ‘is that it always, without exception, makes me want to do it even more badly.’

She releases her straw and gazes up at me through her lashes.

‘Yeah, I get that. I have the same unfortunate wiring. And what is it you want to do?’

‘Not what.’ I trace a light, but deliberate, fingertip down her bare arm. Her ensuing shiver is gratifying. ‘Who.’

‘You’re too old for me.’ She sounds like she’s trying to convince herself.

I scoff. ‘I’m forty.’

‘From where I’m standing, that’s not exactly a great defence.’

‘I’m not old,’ I insist. ‘I’m experienced. There’s a difference.’

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