Page 3 of Already His

“I don’t know, I’d say there’s plenty to see,” Elliot said, shocking me. He was so proper and upright, so cold… I couldn’t believe he was being so blatantly lewd. It wasn’t the vibe I had gotten from him at all. Holding my gaze, he nodded to my chest, “Don’t you agree?” He asked.

With a sinking feeling, I followed his gaze. There, right down the centre of where my cleavage would be if I had one, was a long drip of chocolate ganache. Mortification echoed through me, thankfully dulled by my buzz. I let out a long, resigned sigh, and popped my finger in my mouth to wet it. I then lowered it to the trail, and wiped it off, raised the fingertip back to my mouth and licked it, all in one fluid motion. Elliot’s hand gripped his coffee cup tightly.

“Waste not, want not,” I murmured to him. Unable to hold his scorching gaze for too long, I pulled out my phone and checked the time. Urgh, it was late. “I’ve got to get going,” I told Elliot, making sure to gulp down the last few mouthfuls of souffle, and checking my decollate for any further accidents.

“So you can stereotype my character, and run off before I might do the same?” Elliot asked.

“By all means, have at it,” I told him, crossing my arms over my chest defensively. There was too much challenge to his gaze for me to refuse him. I was nothing if not competitive.

“Let me guess,” Elliot said, returning to the topic, “You’re chocolate desserts, and too much wine, messy break ups with pints of ice-cream, drunk dials, and even messier make up sex?” he asked. He was right about the chocolate and ice-cream and way off base about the make-up sex.

“You’ve barely noticed me or made eye contact with me all day, and now you’re asking about my sex life?” I asked him archly.

“I’ve noticed you, Mia. It’s hard not to, Wonder Woman panties notwithstanding,” he said, sitting forward and I was caught by the intense grip of his stare. I wasn’t sure what to respond to that oddly complimentary statement, since he’d done nothing but ignore me or tease me all day. I settled instead for striking out at him, and his insight into my character. Why take the high road, when you can go low?

“Well, based on knowing you a day, you’re country clubs, shipping the kids off to private school as early as possible, daily golf and hating yourself. Throw in boring sex with a dead fish society wife who wears cashmere twin sets, and I bet I just foresaw your future,” I said, “I fit bespoke suits on a hundred of you a month in this city, you are all the same,” I challenged. A slight grin shifted the corners of Elliot’s full lips.

“I doubt I’d forget you measuring my inseam and kneeling at my feet,” he said, scandalising me further. I took a long drink of champagne to calm myself. Ok, the truth is I could go toe to toe with anyone and tease them, rile them, irritate them. But, the next part, the doubling down on understanding all the intricacies of opposite sex interactions were lost on me. I had nothing to go on, but I watched a lot of HBO, which might have overinflated my confidence.

“I’ve got to go,” I said lamely into the charged silence that had sprung up between us. He inclined his head and stood. I grabbed my wrap from the chair, and my clutch, and cast a look over my shoulder, “Nice meeting you Elliot,” I muttered, as I made my getaway. I was far too drunk and vulnerable to play verbal tennis with a man of Elliot Winter’s calibre tonight.

As I left the restaurant and reached the street, a strong hand closed on my arm, as I went to hail a cab. I spun around, clutch at the ready for battering my attacker over the head, and froze when I saw it was the man himself, looming over me from his impressive height.

“I’ll see you home,” he said curtly, as a shiny black, chauffeur-driven car pulled up at the curb. I don’t know how he’d managed to time it so perfectly, but the man was smooth, I’d give him that.

“Totally unnecessary,” I said.

“It’s necessary if I say it is. West left you to my care, and I will see you home,” he said, with an iron strength of will and authority. I riled against it instinctively.

“Left me to your care? I’m not a little girl,” I laughed, and Elliot’s hand tightened fractionally on my arm.

“I am well aware of that,” he said roughly, his nostrils flaring slightly, as he stepped closer to me. “Get in the car,” he ordered. I tipped my face up to him, trying to read his mood. He was so difficult to read.

“And if I say no, are you going to manhandle me into the car anyway?” I pressed him. His silence seemed like an affirmation. A thrill shot down my spine, depraved and surprising.

“Would you?” I pushed him.

“Do you want me to?” he asked suddenly, taking my other arm and pulled me against his hard body. I forgot how to breathe for a second. Yes. The shameful truth whispered through me. “Get in the car, Mia,” he said slowly and pulled the door open.

I got in.

Chapter 3

Elliot

Mia slid along the seat away from me and looked at me with huge eyes, her pretty cheeks stained a soft pink that matched her dress. She looked excited and scared in equal measure and I could understand it. I felt pretty fucking excited myself, and dangerously close to losing control. She was like a dream, gorgeous, fiery and I longed to tame her just enough. Enough to own her.

“Give the driver your address,” I said curtly, as I reached for the scotch in the minibar. “Drink?” I asked her. She shook her head.

“Just some ice, please,” she said. I handed her a glass filled with glistening cubes of ice, and she popped one right between her full lips and sucked on it.

“Feeling hot?” I asked her, more as a way to distract myself from the urge to close the distance between us and take her onto my lap. I had plans for those ice cubes.

“No, just…,” she broke off and shivered. I’m not sure she was even aware of how turned on her body was, or how it was reacting to our proximity. She seemed ignorant of it. She was made for me, her body knew it, even if her head didn’t.

“I didn’t mean to be rude before. I don’t know you, I was just joking around,” she said, sitting back and folding her arms over her slim waist, making her perky little breasts sit even higher. I itched to take those pretty bee-stings between my teeth and mark them as mine.

“You weren’t wrong. My parents are a living stereotype of the kind of upper-crust, bloodless marriage you talked about,” I told her, and sipped my scotch, The burn in my throat helped to distract my body from its painful awareness of Mia’s.

---