Page 9 of Gold Digger
“Yes, of course,” TTD said, glancing between me and the duke.
“Now, Thomas,” the duke snapped, and TTD jumped into action, scurrying out of the room without a second look. The duke turned to me again and sighed.
“Lottie, I’m really sorry, but I’m going to have to insist you let my driver take you home.” I looked between him and the blonde in confusion. She didn’t look the least bit put out, just curious. Her head was still tilted to the side as she studied me – definitely a bit of an oddball. “He’s outside now. I’ll take you to him then I’d better go back and sort out this shitshow.”
He extended his hand to me. I hesitated, but my mind flashed back to him nearly dislocating a man’s arm in an effort to defend my honour, and I felt strangely comforted. I was officially losing it. When I did place my hand in his and his strong fingers closed over mine, I had the weirdest feeling. The only way I can describe it is that at that moment, with my hand in his, I felt as if everything was right. All the stress of the evening melted away. It was just me and him. No duke, no cleaner, no boundaries, no social norms, no shitty entitled parodies of the great and the good out beyond the office door. Just Ollie and Lottie, hand in hand. The feeling was so overwhelming that when my eyes met his, I couldn’t help it; despite the awful evening I’d had, despite all my worries, despite his actualgirlfriendstanding not two feet away, I smiled at him. And he smiled right back.
Chapter 6
My hand may have dropped
Lottie
“Cheese and crackers!” I shouted, leaping at least two feet in the air and dropping the Mr Muscle bathroom cleaner and the wet cloth I’d been carrying. Because there, right in front of me, having just emerged from his bathroom and wearing only a towel, was the man I’d been trying to avoid for the last month. The brief flash of his broad, muscular torso I’d had in the bathroom of his club had reigned supreme in all my fevered dreams and fantasies for weeks, butthis– this visual with water droplets running into the grooves of his abs and his towels hanging low on his hips – I knew would escalate things significantly. I’d be lucky if I remembered my own name after this, let alone run my vastly complicated life whilst caring for a child. I swallowed and forced my gaze up to his face.
“Get a good enough look?” the duke asked. His smirk was so outrageously sexy that if smoldering looks had the power to melt women, I would be a pool of goo at his feet. As it was, my face felt like it was on fire. Shock rendered me completely immobile. I just continued to stand there staring at him.
“You alive in there?” he teased as he took a step towards me. “Had a stroke or something?”
He was so close now that I could smell him: fresh man mixed with crisp shower gel. I’d only have to lift my hand up a few inches, and I’d be touching him. The thought of touching his bare chest, of being allowed to do that, gave me a headrush so strong I felt like I was going to pass out. So I jerked away and took a couple of rapid steps back. My heart felt like it was beating outside of my chest.
“Sugar, sugar, sugar,” I repeated rapid fire as I used my hand to cover my eyes. “I’m sorry! I thought you were in Paris. Why aren’t you in Paris?” I was desperate to continue backing away but then remembered I’d dropped all the cleaning products, complete with a damp cloth, on his carpet, so with my eyes still covered, I crouched down, feeling blindly on the floor for my stuff. I froze when a large hand caught mine. Then I separated the fingers of my other hand just enough to peer through them at a smiling duke crouched in front of me, his towel very much in danger of revealing more than it covered. I squeaked and snapped my fingers back into place as he chuckled. The Mr Muscle and the cloth were both put into my extended hand and I straightened up like a shot.
“I’m sorry I’m not in Paris, Lottie,” the duke said. Oh, my giddy aunt, the man was apologising to his cleaner for being in his own bedroom, in his own house. My mind flashed to the open textbook I’d left in the snug and I winced, praying he hadn’t seen the evidence of my skiving.
“No, no. It’s fine,” I waved the Mr Muscle in front of me as I backed away. “You can be here… or in Paris. I-I-I?—”
“Lottie!” he said sharply, but it was too late; my feet hit something soft behind me, and I went flying backwards. But before I could hit the floor, a strong hand was at my back, whilst another cradled my head, and I was suspended in midair. I could feel the heat of his body inches from mine, feel the large handacross the entire of my back and in my hair. I still had my fingers over my eyes.
“You must be the clumsiest human being I’ve ever met in my life,” his low voice was shaking with humour, and I could feel his breath on my cheek. He was so close. “Er… Lottie?”
“Yes,” I squeaked.
“I have a small towel issue.”
“W-w-what do you mean?”
“As in, I no longerhavea towel.”
“Cheese and crackers,” I breathed, and he chuckled again.
“I’m not sure what savoury snacking has to do with it, but I should warn you that my dick is very much out, so if you don’t want an eyeful, I suggest you keep your hand in place as I lay you down. I’ll go back to the bathroom and call when I’m out of sight, okay?
I nodded.
Now, I’m a good girl. Really, I am. I don’t swear. I look after my sister. I don’t sleep around. I don’t even drink. But I will admit that as that man gently laid me on the floor, the gap between my fingers widened, as did my eyes when I got a good view of what he was packing (and let’s just say the man’s big dick energy was wholly justified). Then my hand may have dropped altogether as he walked back into the bathroom, sans towel.
“I looked at your ding dong.”There, I said it. If he needed to fire me, he could.
“I see,” he said as he strolled through the kitchen in his suit, looking so unfairly attractive and put-together that I felt like even more of a scruffy little perv.
“I would never have gone into your bedroom like that… without knocking, I mean, if I’d have known you weren’t in Paris.”
“You seem to be kept abreast of my movements pretty well,” he said as he started making himself a coffee with his fancy coffee maker. I shifted uncomfortably on the spot.
“Er… well, your mum is… she’s chatty.” Margot was around at least a couple of times a week at the house. She always seemed to haveimportant thingsto do in London – mostly spending her money and hosting charity events. I liked Margot. She was one of those posh, no-nonsense, horsey women, and she was honest –veryhonest. With my ability to tell if people were lying, that was really quite refreshing.
“Hmm.” He was watching me over the rim of his cup as he drank his coffee. All the man was doing was drinking a cup of coffee, but I didn’t think I’d ever found anything more attractive in my life. He had stubble today – thick, manly stubble. My mind wandered to how the stubble would feel against my cheek. Then, before I knew it, I was picturing him in all his naked glory again. I felt my cheeks heat and ducked my head.
