A Guy Walks Into My Bar - Lauren Blakely Page 0,40
a morning lie-in.”
“Fine. If you insist.”
And he insists on wrapping his arms around me, which I don’t mind at all.
But I only drift off for a little while before I’m woken again—this time by something worth waking up to.
Fitz between my legs, sucking me off.
Well, good morning to me.
It’s the perfect wake-up call, an unhurried blow job that I luxuriate in, enjoying every single delicious second of it.
After, he slides next to me, his eyes flirty. “What are you doing today?”
I shrug happily as I stretch, enjoying the aftereffects. “I’m off work.”
“Spend the day with me.”
I shoot him a suspicious look. “Did you give me a morning BJ just to get me to say yes to spending the day with you?”
He wiggles his eyebrows. “I did. Did it work?”
I give a sigh—the deep, contented kind. “Seems it did.” I prop myself on my elbow. “What about Emma?”
“She has orientation stuff on campus. I’ll catch her in the early evening.”
“All right. What do you have in mind? Eager to see Kensington Palace? The Tower of London and the Crown Jewels? Or more of my crown jewels?”
“The latter, obvs. I have a riverboat cruise booked tomorrow with Ems, but today I was hoping to go to London Bridge. I’ve been instructed by my buddy Logan’s seven-year-old to take a photo on it, and I can’t turn Amelia down.”
“Ah, she wants to make sure it’s not falling down.”
Fitz taps his nose. “Bingo.”
I stroke my chin as if deep in thought. “And you find yourself in need of a tour guide again.”
He grins a little evilly. Deliciously evilly. “Yes. Yes, I do.”
I nod like I’m absorbing this info. “Let me get this straight. You came to London to find a hot English bloke to bang. You found one straightaway. And now you’re looking for a twofer. You want me to be your fuck buddy and your tour guide?” I arch a brow.
He props himself on his elbow. “Sounds like a win-win for me. So, yeah. Let’s do it.”
I roll my eyes. “And meanwhile, I have to do a shitload of chores.”
“But not today, since you have the day off. What better way to spend it than showing me around before we go for another round?”
“Another? Just another? I might want more than one more. Especially since I’ll be working off my debt to Maeve forever, it seems, given your appetite.”
He slides a hand down my chest, tracing my abs. “Your appetite matches mine.”
“Hmm. There is some truth to that.”
Fitz dips his head and kisses my pecs. “It’s all true. And you will get everything you want. Say you’ll show the poor Yankee the sights of your town.”
I heave a sigh as if this is the toughest choice in the world when, in fact, it is the easiest. Spending the day with this man, showing him some of the city I love, then fucking again, sounds like the recipe for a perfect summer’s day. “Fine, I’ll be your tour guide, but the first thing you need to know is this.” He pops his head up and nods, like an eager student. I tap his chest. “It’s not London Bridge you want to see. It’s Tower Bridge. That’s the pretty one.”
Reaching for my phone, I quickly google “Tower Bridge” and show him the iconic symbol of the city, two bridge towers tied together with two walkways. “That’s the more picturesque of the two.”
“Then let’s go there.” He grins, so easy to please. “Wait. Can we see the Harry Potter bridge too?”
I crack up. “You mean the Millennium Bridge? The one the Death Eaters destroyed in The Half-Blood Prince?”
Fitz’s face contorts with the strangest look—possibly excitement, maybe thrill, then he lets out a long warrior cry. He grabs his head, tugging on his hair. “Shut the front door. You’re a fucking Harry Potter fan?”
I chuckle. “Yes. I mean, obviously.”
“Why is it obvious? Because you’re English?”
“No, because the books are bloody awesome.” Then I pause, arching a skeptical brow. “Wait. Please don’t tell me you’re just a movie fan. Shit. You’re a movie fan, aren’t you? You’ve never read the books? You had a crush on Radcliffe when you were a curious teen?”
He clasps his hand to his bare chest. “You wound me. I mean, yeah, I had a crush on Radcliffe when I was twelve, like every other gay tween. But as for that insult . . .” He pokes my chest. “Are you saying I don’t know that Hermione blackmailing Rita Skeeter and Neville leading the