the first time but a repeat. I force my hands into my pockets to hide how they’d curled them into fists, the phantom of her ponytail almost real between my fingertips.
“I’ll be gone by morning, and the place will be all yours again.” That’s the way it has to be. So I don’t hate myself and she doesn’t hate me.
“What? No, I can’t do that.”
“For as long as you need,” I continue, cutting off further protestations. “And I’m sorry about last night. If I’d realised who you were, I wouldn’t have teased you.” No, if I’d realised who you were, I wouldn’t have teased at all. I’d have taken. And you would’ve given because I know I read the signals right.
“Apology accepted,” she replies evenly. “Though I suppose it begs the question exactly who you thought I was or where I came from.” Her cheeks immediately turn a delicious pink, almost as though she can’t believe what she just said.
I bite back the sly grin. Does she really think she can hide behind her wine glass?
“You really want to know? Curiosity killed the cat, so they say.” And this is a little kitty I’d like to kill by orgasm overload, even if my second thought isn’t as compelling. If I tell her, her cause of death would more likely be shock.
“You’re right,” she answers just quickly enough. “I really don’t need to know.”
“That’s probably sensible.” Maybe sensibility is something I should learn. “Where’s that accent from, anyway?” That’s it, do the right thing. Move the topic away from where your cock leads.
“England.” Like I hadn’t worked that part out already.
“London, right?” I tap my finger against my mouth as though thinking. This time she nods, though she gives nothing else away. “What part?”
“North.” The look she sends my way is almost withering. “North London.”
“Hackney? Haringey? Should I keep guessing? It’s not like I plan on stalking.”
“Camden,” she replies eventually and with a roll of her eyes. “Stalk away. In London, I mean. I haven’t lived there since I was eighteen.”
“So I should stalk you in France?”
“By all means,” she mutters. “Given I’m not there, either.”
“Are you going to tell me a little about yourself?” A little more than the tidbits Rose fed me, hopefully. I still can’t believe she’s been so close to me all this time.
“Would you like me to fill out a tenancy application?”
“How about we just get to know each other a little better,” I reply, ignoring her tone. Give me a little more personal stuff. So you like a daddy play? Don’t deny it. I saw your eyes widen, little girl. “So, Camden. Home of the lock and the market. But I think I detect a little something else in that accent, too.” A soft lilt of something almost lyrical. “Is it Scots?”
“My granny is Irish,” Lulu suddenly supplies from behind her mom as she hopscotches into the room, reminding me of two things. One, my sister used to love to play hopscotch, and two, I need to keep my budding obsession in check for more reasons than one.
Family. I wonder if I can still count them as that, considering they no longer acknowledge me. Fuck them.
“Ah, that must be it.” I raise my wine to my mouth as her gaze follows it there. A little English, a little Irish, a lot hot, and so fucking delicious to fluster.
Have I always had a thing for women in glasses? I don’t recall thinking them crazy hot before. But there’s just something very proper about the vibe a woman in glasses gives off. Maybe something that suggests virtue. And the opposite of virtue is always vice. It’s a good path to travel, let me tell you.
“I was borned in France,” Lulu announces, repressing my amorous zeal. “But I’m not really French.”
“So that makes you Frenglish, right?”
“No, I’m just Lulu. How many times do I gots to tell you?” She giggles as her mother releases a tiny breath, almost as though relieved the exchange stopped there. “Uncle Carson, will you make me pancakes in the morning again?”
“Eloise Rose, stop being so forward!”
“I’m not forward,” she retorts. “I’m bold.”
“Hey, Lu. If I promise to make you breakfast, will you give me a few minutes to talk to Mommy?”
“Oh, no, you don’t.” Turning, Fee grabs the kid, planting her on the stool next to her. “Sit here and play quietly on my phone.” Sliding her phone from the back pocket of her jeans, she hands it to her small hands.
“Can I