Page 131 of Knights Game

The taxi pulls up outside Juju’s on Kensington Highstreet, where Luca is, hidden in his office. Plotting.

I step out and make my way towards the hive of activity where the alcohol delivery is being unloaded.

Roman appears at the double doors. “He’s in his office, 3982.” He walks past me, barely giving me any other acknowledgment, and I wonder whether he’s going to meet Katy. I’m relieved that he doesn’t stop me, too desperate to get to him, desperate to take control, to quiet the mind.

Control, control, control.

I want to forget about what I’ve read; I want to forget about Grandad. I want to forget about the girls from the shipment, I want to forget about the questions and confusion.

Just forget.

Even if it’s for a moment.

I pass cleaners meticulously scrubbing and polishing, filling the air with the faint scent of cleaning products. I hear the sound of emptying dishwashers and glass clinking. I barrel through his office door, freezing when I see him at his desk.

“Layla!”

We agreed I would rest. We agreed I'd stay in the penthouse. We agreed I’d do what I was told. Well, he agreed, I just smiled and nodded.

“Are you okay? What’s happened?”

I stand leaning against the door drinking in his appearance, I’m worrying him, I know I am.

He stands, unfolding himself from behind his large oak desk. His hair is a mess, he’s been running his hand through it, his sleeves rolled up, showing me his strong forearms.

“I made a promise,” I say, my voice small. “You said if I wanted to hurt myself that I come to you.”

His eyes darken, even though I’m not sure whether it’s possible since they are already so dark. I’m a tight coil ready to spring.

He walks towards me, tentatively, watching me. Taking in my dishevelled state. Fresh faced, blonde hair pulled into a messy ponytail, ripped jeans and a T-shirt.

He touches my chin gently and lifts my face to his, inspecting me like a prized possession.

His prized possession.

“What happened?”

“I need to feel you.” I need you.

“Something’s happened?”

“Quieten my head.” I plead. I’m not ready to share what I found. I’m not ready to put the questions out there.

“You need me to make you forget?” he asks, dropping his voice.

His mouth crushes against mine, his hard body pushing my back against the door.

There is nothing soft about this encounter and that’s fine with me. His kiss is rough, dominating. I open my mouth to the onslaught of his tongue as he deepens it.

He pulls back. “You want me to fuck you,” he says, and I can’t speak only moan against the onslaught of his wicked hands as they reach under my T-shirt, searing my skin at the contact. He pulls at my bra to squeeze my sensitive nipples. My own hands become greedy as they search for entry to his trousers, trying to release his length so I can feel the smooth silky skin against my palms.

I whine when he releases my breasts but he grips my arse and pulls up, I jump and wrap my legs around him, our mouths fused together.

He navigates me to his desk where he places me down breaking the kiss looking at me whilst touching his lips. I unbutton my jeans, my lips swollen and sore. He stands there motionless as I pull my jeans and thong down, lying back on my elbows.

He sits on his chair and pulls it to me, his warm hands spreading my legs so that I’m completely open to him. “Fuck, I’m never going to get this vision out my head when I’m sitting here.” He groans, his deep voice a purr in the quiet office.

Every muscle tenses as I wait for him to deliver the tantalising lick that will make me forget everything other than this moment.

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