Page 15 of Getting Lucky in London

Me:Sure. I’ll run by your place at lunch.

Tucking my phone in my back pocket, I stirred the eggs and popped two slices of bread into the toaster. I planned to take Danielle to my favorite bistro near Portobello Road Market tonight. Then we could shop, eat, and stroll through Hyde Park. I don’t know why it was important to me that she loved my city as much as I did.

Probably because I’d waited so long to find a woman who made me feel the way she did, and she would only be in England for a few more days. Wasn’t that what she said?Only in London to get lucky, and all I can think about is getting you alone and naked and fucking you until it’s time to catch my flight home.

Maybe I’d throw those words back at her and suggest she keep her word because just thinking about never seeing her again—

A squeak on the stairs told me that my sleeping beauty was finally awake. “I’m in the kitchen, luv.” When she didn’t answer, I called out, “Danielle?”

Still no answer.

I turned off the heat, laid the spatula on the spoon rest, and walked around the wall blocking my view of the living room. Wearing only the white dress shirt I’d worn the night before, Danielle was on her hands and knees, crouched low and looking under the sofa. Twin half-moons of creamy flesh peeked from the tailored hem.

My dick stretched toward my abs. I could take her from behind. Right there on the floor. Or…she was already on her knees. It wouldn’t—

“Damn it.” The curse was barely audible, but the level of distress behind it broke into my lust-filled musings.

“Can I help?” I asked, striding toward her with every intention of forgetting breakfast and taking her back to bed as soon as she found what she was looking for.

She spun around, her hair wild, her dark eyes wide. Pink stained her cheeks and flowed down her neck. Slender fingers clutched her tiny purse to her chest. “I, um, I can’t find the keys.”

“What keys?”

“The ones to get back into D—the place where I’m staying.” She crossed to the wall I’d fucked her against, dropped to her knees, and began stuffing things into the purse—a phone, a tube of lipstick, and a credit card.

“We’ll find them later,” I said, giving up on going back to bed for now. She didn’t look like her morning grumps had worn off yet. “Come have breakfast. Do you drink coffee?”

Her head jerked up, and she shoved her hair out of her face. “I don’t have time for coffee. I have to find those keys. I have a meeting at one.”

Disappointment filtered into my hopes of having her all to myself today, but I rallied. Surely, whatever meeting she had planned wouldn’t take long. My plans could work around hers. “Let me help you look.”

She swiped her dress off the floor and held out a hand to stop me in my tracks. “Turn around.” When I didn’t catch on, she added,” So I can get dressed.”

“You’re kidding, right?” I laughed. “I’ve already seen you naked.”

“That was last night.” She waved a hand. “Hurry.”

I did as she requested, no matter how silly. Material swished, presumably as my shirt came off, then swished again as her dress replaced it. How could the confident woman who stripped for me and masturbated while I watched turn into this shy and fidgety female?

I turned back around to find her flinging cushions from my couch. “I doubt they’d be there, luv. We never made it to the couch.”

“Stop calling me luv and help me find them.” She deserted the sofa to rifle through the peat moss covering the soil in a potted plant.

Not daring to point out the plant was across the room, I put in a serious effort to help her find her keys.

Ten minutes later, I heard a sniffle and dropped the curtain I’d just checked under. She was leaning against my now-favorite wall and wiping a tear from her cheek with the back of her hand.

Rising from my knees, I said, “Where is your meeting?”

“Downtown.”

“Not to worry. I can take you.”

She blinked at me and another tear fell, only to meet its demise with another swipe. “I’m not worried about how to get there.” She laughed. “But I can’t go like this.”

I took in her long legs and the swell of her breasts threatening to spill from the bodice of her rumpled dress. I agreed but went with humor. “I don’t know why not.” I grinned. “You’ve got my attention.”

“Well, that’s great”—she flung out her arms—“but I’m not trying to fuck the people I’m meeting, am I?” Her head fell back as regret washed over her face. “I’m sorry. That was a bitchy thing to say.”

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