Page 35 of Forget

The sex had been frantic and being inside her without a rubber…phenomenal. With every slide in and out of her wet pussy he’d lost his mind, using every ounce of self-control not to come as quickly as a horny teen.

She hadn’t said much afterwards and sensing her need for quiet he’d followed her into the bathroom, where they’d showered together in an oddly sweet, platonic way before climbing beneath the frilly covers on her bed.

Her bed…An elaborate four-poster with cream chiffon draping from the corners, it looked like something out of a fairytale, but if she was looking for a knight in shining armour he sure as hell wasn’t it.

In fact, everything about this bedroom screamed romance, and he hated it. From the fancy perfume bottles arranged in a circle around a sparkly jewellery box, to the mauve colour scheme that cast everything in a rich glow, it felt like the bedroom of a woman wanting a happily ever after.

The thought had him sliding carefully out from under the covers and reaching for his clothes. She didn’t stir as he dressed and padded silently from the room, carefully closing the door behind him.

He couldn’t leave, not when she’d seemed so out of sorts when he first arrived, and he really needed her help, so sneaking out wouldn’t endear him to her.

Feeling like an intruder, he did a quick reconnaissance of her place. Opulent. Beautiful. Glamorous. Jayda all over.

While her bedroom channelled something out of a luxe fairytale, the rest of her house was sleek and affluent. The living room had highly polished honey floorboards, with artfully arranged geometric accent tables next to the bold crimson suede sofas. A fireplace took pride of place in a slab of black marble that would’ve cost as much as an entire house in this suburb.

The kitchen, all glossy grey cupboards, black stone bench-tops, and gleaming high-end appliances, led into a lavish sunroom with low-slung leather daybeds and a giant slate rug with slashes of ochre, purple, and turquoise.

A spare bedroom had the latest model treadmill and a bench designed for lifting the neatly arranged weights running along one wall. As for her home office in a separate area adjacent to the front door, it had a state-of-the-art computer and printer, ergonomically designed furniture, and trendyplantation shutters that would allow light to flood in during the day.

While he loved his penthouse and all it stood for—how far he’d come from a pauper and how hard he’d worked for everything he had—there was something about Jayda’s place that screamedhome. The interior might represent her expensive tastes but she’d somehow taken the glitz out of it and made the whole place appear elegant and refined.

And the longer he stood around admiring it, the harder it would be to leave.

He had to do something to keep his mind occupied. Work. He’d begged off it earlier when he had to visit his dad but it would give him something to do now. He fired up her computer, frustrated yet pleased when it was password-protected. Any IT person worth their coding would always have a password but that put paid to doing any work.

She had a pile of documents and brochures stacked neatly next to her computer, most of them featuring educational programmes in poorer countries around the world. She had a good heart and it didn’t surprise him she wanted to honour her sister’s memory by raising money. But it angered him that her parents had taken advantage of her kindness when she didn’t deserve it.

‘What are you doing in here?’

He jumped and spun around, the brochures falling from his fingertips into a messy heap on the floor. ‘I thought I could do some work while you slept.’

He gathered the brochures and placed them back on the desk, surprised she didn’t seem fazed by him rifling through her business.

‘I’m awake now,’ she said, her soft voice making him want to pick her up and carry her straight back to bed.

But that bedroom gave him the heebie-jeebies and he couldn’t go back in there, not when it might give her the wrong idea: that he’d happily spend many nights in there with her.

‘Good. You can unlock your computer for me, then.’

She arched an eyebrow. ‘It’s eleven, and you have a wanton woman willing to acquiesce to your every command.’

She cocked a hip beneath the burgundy satin robe that ended below her knees. ‘You sure you want to work?’

‘I don’t want to, especially with a willing, wanton woman as you so graciously pointed out, but I’ve taken on an extra job while I’m in Melbourne, so the more time I spend on yours, the better.’

She took his refusal with good grace but he saw the questions in her eyes and he sure as hell didn’t feel like answering.

‘Does this new job have anything to do with you giving me the brush-off earlier today?’

So much for not giving her answers. But rather than shutting her out as he had done with other women in the past, he found himself wanting to share something of his private life, albeit a snippet.

‘I visited my dad in hospital.’

She grimaced and swiped a hand over her face. ‘I’m such a bitch.’

‘No, you’re not.’ He stood and opened his arms to her, relieved when she stepped into them and wrapped hers around his waist. ‘I hadn’t intended to, but when I stopped by the car yard to check on his accounts I had an attack of the guilts thanks to our long-time receptionist.’

‘Car yard?’

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