Page 52 of Chase

“No, I just like to look as if I do. This is Mrs. D’s domain. She prepares everything so I only have to warm it up. Other than that, I live on telephone orders.”

“That’s unhealthy,” I scold. He stops and then turns to face me. “Fast food isn’t a sustainable diet.”

“I didn’t say it was fast food.” He reaches for a drawer and pulls it open. Inside, there’s a pile of restaurant menus. He lifts the bundle out then holds it in my direction. “Have a look through those and tell me what you want to eat. They all deliver.” I take them from him and start to scan through the array of cuisine on offer from high-end restaurants around the city.

“But these aren’t delivery menus,” I question.

“No, they’re restaurant menus, but for certain clients they’ll make a special effort.” He flashes me a cheeky smile. “I am one of those clients, and now, you are too.” Butterflies flutter in my chest as he refers to me as being part of all this. That what he has, somehow I’m now part of.

“This one,” I say. I place all the menus on the counter and push a simple Italian option toward him. Some of the others had descriptions that made no sense to me, so I decided to go for what I knew. “I’d be happy with pizza.”

“Good choice; I’ll organize it.” He pulls his phone from his pocket before tapping the screen and raising it to his ear.

“Are you not going to ask me what I like?”

“I know how you like your pizza, Trouble.”

I cross my arms over my chest and narrow my eyes at him for his presumptuousness. I listen on as he tells the person at the end of the line the exact way I like my pizza: with extra cheese and a double portion of pineapple. He orders a few accompaniments, then disconnects the call.

“How do you know that?” I ask him, trying to keep my tone a fraction pissed. Secretly, I am happy that he notices the small things.

“You would be amazed by what I know,” he says, stepping toward me and placing a crutch on either side of my body. He stands insanely close, then warm lips meet mine in the middle of his kitchen. His kiss is gentle, our lips intertwining before our mouths open and tongues begin to explore new territory. One crutch falls to the floor, and he pulls me to him but winces in pain with the sharp movement.

“Be careful,” I whisper against his lips. “You’re injured.”

“It’s okay, Trouble. I’m fucking a nurse.” I laugh out loud and he smiles goofily. His manner and expression are miles away from the grumpy, obstinate lawyer I met months ago, the man who appeared to hate everyone and only want to cause distress.

“You will be, but it won’t be anytime soon. We need to ensure you’re healing properly first.”

“Trouble, it’s my leg that’s broken, not my cock. He’s still in perfect working order.” His hand drops to my ass and pulls me forward forcefully so my stomach is tight against his swelling dick. My arousal heightens as the tension between us morphs into need. This man, whom I’ve kept at a distance for months, is here, and he wants me. “Let me show you the bedroom,” he whispers, dropping his lips to my ear. His warm breath tickles my skin, then his mouth lowers further and he places a single kiss on my neck. “This way.”

He releases me, wobbling backward, then moves in the direction of the bedrooms. He pushes open the first door, which opens wide into the biggest bedroom I’ve ever seen.

In the center is a super king-sized bed draped in red and black satin. The headboard extends up the wall in black velvet, stitched intricately in glittering red thread. A large matching sofa sits to one side with a low black glass table. On the far wall, there are floor-to-ceiling windows offering a view for miles over London.

He gestures for me to enter and as I walk into the room, the door clicks closed behind me. I move to the windows, looking out at the roof garden which sits on top of the apartment below on the other side. He appears behind me, standing close enough I can feel him. His hand reaches past and connects with a small silver panel on the glass, and it slides open, allowing access to the garden. I gasp at the movement, and Russell chuckles.

“This is my favorite place,” he says quietly. “I can’t wait to share it with you.” We both step out into the cold London evening; the skies are darkening as the sun disappears for another day.

The roof garden runs down the full length of the apartment before disappearing around the corner. Russell heads in that direction, weaving between the perfectly pruned plants and modern statues that decorate the area and provide a zen-like quality. Hidden at the rear, I’m stunned to find a small infinity pool. Only around five meters long and perhaps three wide, it’s located on the edge of the building. But what’s most breathtaking is the glass wall that encases it, meaning when in use, you can swim to the perimeter and look out over the city.

“Do you like to swim?” he asks, his voice quiet but hopeful.

“Yes, but surely at this time of year, it’s a bit cold.”

“Trouble, in what world do you think I wouldn’t have a heated pool? We can use this at all times of the year. You just tell me how hot you like it, and I’ll make it happen.” His words are laden with sexual innuendo, and I giggle like a schoolgirl.

“Are we still talking about the swimming pool?” I ask.

“Perhaps, as I do plan to fuck you in it once I have this bloody thing off.” He signals to his cast. My mind whirls as naughty thoughts of him taking me against that glass wall flit through my head. My nipples harden beneath my top in excitement. One thick finger flicks the bud through the material, and he smirks. “Those nipples of yours are better than words; one look at them, and I know exactly what you’re thinking. And they’re telling me you like that idea.”

Chapter twenty-one

Varley Medical, London

Samantha

Bryan sits at his desk typing away furiously. He stares at his screen as if the world depends on his work, normally relaxed demeanor nowhere to be seen. The jovial fun we have day to day is absent.

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