your entire building will be surrounded by the morning, and I’m not interested in sex, Clara. I want to explore you. I want to rip those clothes off of you and take you to bed. I’m going to fuck you until it hurts, and I want to hear you beg me to do it.” I stop and let myself imagine her spread beneath me. The vision only reinforces what I already know. “And I need more than a few hours for that.”
She stares at me, and then finally, her tongue darts over her lips as though she can taste my promises.
“I get what I want.” I silently dare her to question this.
“When?”
“Tomorrow.” I won’t be able to wait a moment longer than that.
“And the reporters?” she asks hopelessly.
“I’ll deal with them.” It’s the least I can do. I’ve won a gamble I didn’t know I’d placed. Clara Bishop has agreed to see me again. In truth, she’s agreeing to more than that. We both know where this leads. I search her face for doubt and find none. She wants this as much as I do. The realization makes me even harder than I already am—a feat I wouldn’t have thought possible. “Norris will pick you up at eleven.”
Her lashes flutter shyly as she eyes her apartment building. Teeth sink into her lower lip as if she’s holding back. I want to unravel all her secrets.
“Then I’ll see you tomorrow night,” she murmurs.
“Oh, no. Eleven in the morning.” I take her face in my hands. I want to be clear about this. “I told you I need time, poppet.”
It’s a promise laced with warning. I will take her slowly. I will claim every inch of her. Whatever is sparking between us, I can’t contain it. But I don’t just need to fuck her. I need to taste her. I need to touch her. I want to now, but holding back will make tomorrow even more delicious.
My lips brush over hers, and she parts her lips with a soft sigh. I’m barely able to resist the offer. If I start now, I won’t be able to stop. “Until then.”
Norris helps her from the car and rushes her inside before a wandering reporter catches up with us. I want to follow and see her safely to the door. I want to lock her there, protecting her from the attention I’ve brought to her life.
But even as I fight the urge, I know the truth. The safest thing I could do is keep my distance from her. Now that she’s no longer next to me, I wonder if I could walk away now.
I know three things:
I should call this off now.
I won’t be able to shield her from the press or my family indefinitely.
I have no control over my attraction to this woman.
The last trumps the others, and I can only hope that after a night with her, I’ll let go of my preoccupation.
Norris gets back in the car without a word, and we drive in silence. After a few minutes, he clears his throat. “Home?”
“I suppose,” I say ruefully, my thoughts lingering behind with Clara. “I need to get my own place.”
“Perhaps, you should speak to your father,” Norris advises me. His eyes survey me in the mirror.
“I don’t want anything from him. I’ll get a flat.”
Norris resumes his practiced silence, but the absence of his guidance is deafening.
“Out with it,” I order him.
“You think it will be this easy?”
“The flat?” I clarify.
“Amongst other concerns.” He’s choosing his words with the caution of a man familiar with my family’s poor temper.
“If we’re talking about Clara, let’s use her name,” I say flatly. “You think it’s a bad idea?”
“I think a woman like that deserves more than a hotel suite.”
I already know that. “I can’t give her more. It would expose her.”
“Alexander, she’s already exposed.” He turns the car onto a side street and I watch the lights of London flash past the window while I absorb what he’s saying.
“All the more reason to keep this private.” I don’t leave room for him to question this. I know Norris is right. Clara deserves more than a man like me can give her. “Can you see to that?”
“Of course,” he says in a clipped tone. He doesn’t approve, but I don’t try to fool myself.
I’m a selfish man. I’m going to hurt her. I won’t be able to protect her, because I pose more danger to Clara than any reporter or tabloid headline. She’s not