Everything You Need: Everything For You Trilogy Book 1 (27 page)

Jack is amused at my frown. “A Pagani Huayra.”

“A what-a?”

He laughs. “Pagani. Italian auto manufacturer.”

“You like it?” It’s the strangest looking car I’ve ever seen.

“I do. Especially the zero to sixty in three point two. Top speed, two hundred and thirty miles an hour. Power to weight ratio is second to none because every nut and bolt is titanium.”

I roll my eyes at his boyish delight in the tech specs. “Like you need all that.”

The look he gives me suggests he just might. “Get in.” He clicks the electronic fob and the doors fly skywards like eagles’ wings.

“Very steam punk,” I observe, making him grin. I put my knees together, lower my backside onto the leather and swing my legs in after me, dignity intact.

“Nicely done.” He smiles his approval.

Did he expect me to crawl in with my backside in the air? He must think I’m some hill-billy. I’m offended. He walks round and folds into the driver’s seat easily.

“Nicely done yourself.” I look straight ahead and kept a dead-pan expression on my face. I can be so childish sometimes.

He turns and stares, then shakes his head slowly. “I see I have work to do on that quick mouth of yours, Tabitha.”

“Be my guest,” I invite, puckering up, but he doesn’t take me up on the offer.

The car engine rumbles, deep and throaty, and the acceleration pins me to the back of the seat as he swerves with a screech, out of the space, across the garage floor, through the gates and beyond.

Late afternoon traffic is a challenge Jack appears to relish as he weaves skilfully in and out, halting on a dime when necessary. I grow grateful for the car’s engineering specs myself, especially in the brakes’ department. But despite my lurching stomach, I admire Jack’s expertise especially when he seems so considerate of more vulnerable road users whilst shamefully taking complete advantage of every other driver’s minute hesitation. He gets a lot of opportunity as people have a tendency to stop and stare at the vehicle to Jack’s amusement.

“Okay, I begin to see the attraction,” I say to his very smug face.

Every time we wait at the innumerable traffic lights his hand automatically slides onto my thigh, landing directly on my bare flesh even when I pull my skirt down in an attempt to prevent it. He simply slips his hand beneath, pushing the fabric out of his way, claiming my skin again with his warm touch. If I wasn’t so hot and bothered all the time, it might have been pleasant. As it is, I writhe.

“Do you have a problem with me touching you?” Instantly, he doesn’t sound happy.

What am I supposed to say to that? “No.” Yes, yes, yes.

“Then why do you go rigid every time?”

Is he joking? Does he really want me to say it out loud? “It’s not like touching is going anywhere.” I’ve got the message by now, I really have.

I detect him stiffen. Have I said completely the wrong thing? Probably. Around Jack, I’m an expert in the field. I wait for his retort. His hand possesses my thigh again as my breath hitches.

“Where do you want it to go? Here?” He slithers his hand further up. “Or perhaps, here?” It rises higher still doing exciting things to my body.

My knees drop apart minutely as I soften.

“Oh, I see. You’d prefer it to go there.” His hand travels upwards until his fingers gently sweep my panties. My very damp panties. Immediately I cringe with embarrassment but I’m soon softly rolling my hips as he plays gently back and forth across my scantily covered sex.

“Tell me what you want, Tabitha.” His voice is brittle as his fingers continue their relentless teasing.

“This. I want this.” I breathe out my words.

“A quick grope?” His hand withdraws to my murmured protest.

I glance across, angry at his attempt to belittle what a sexual connection to Jack means to me, as he speeds forward once more.

“You like fair play, don’t you?” he asks. “If my hands are occupied, so should yours be. Put them where I can see them.”

I can’t believe he’s presuming I’d pleasure myself just because my hands are between my thighs. It’s not sex I want. It’s intimacy with him. He so knows how to push my buttons. “You happen to be driving.”

“And I’m watching you.”

God, he’s so exasperating. The car pulls up in traffic. Jack looks over but I stare out of the window. His hand touches my thigh again, lightly and deliciously.

“I want to be the one to give you ultimate pleasure, Tabby.” He releases me as he drives forward again.

“But you stop yourself.”

“Are you mouthing off at me, kitten?” I see his knuckles tighten on the wheel.

“So sue me.” I’m so hot and frustrated it isn’t even funny.

“Maybe I can’t keep my hands off you.”

I glance over at him. Does he want me or doesn’t he?

“Tell me again, unmistakeably, what it is you want from me, Tabitha.”

The mixed messages theme? Well he’s asking for it. “It’s time we got this sex thing between us over and out of the way.”

“And that’s why it’s not happening.” He accelerates deliberately hard, I swear, pinning me to my seat.

“What? Because you want to be the one in control? Doesn’t it fit your little game plan that I might have some say in it too?”

“You have no understanding at all.”

“I don’t understand you,” I snipe.

“Clearly.”

“I don’t know what you’re getting so mad at?” We’re at an impasse again. “Fuck!”

“Feeling better for that?” he says. “I didn’t know you’d developed such a filthy mouth.” His own is a grim slash, his voice menacingly low. I’m suddenly glad his hands are fully occupied steering the car through the traffic.

This is so infuriating. He’s so infuriating. “I’m simply telling you what I want.” I’m practically begging. Yet again.

“You want me to fuck you.”

“Yes.” What else can I say? Tell him that being with him is all I’ve dreamed about for years? Never going to happen.

“Are you wearing the red dress?”

What the hell is he talking about? “Of course I’m not.”

“Then I won’t be fucking you.”

“What?” He’s driving me crazy with his conditions. I swear he drives more furiously, weaving in and out of traffic like some manic racing driver on adrenaline.

“Tell me why, Tabitha.”

I dredge all relevant information up from the cloudy depths of my erratically distracted brain; past the crazy diversion of my screaming body. “You already told me when you would.”

“Which was?”

“When I’m wearing the red dress.” I bite the words out. “Which I’m clearly not.” I lift the blue skirt between my fingers to demonstrate. And why he wants me to associate his big reward with wearing the red dress makes no sense to me at all. Am I missing something?

“So, I trust you’ve learned three things. First, a boss says what they mean unequivocally. Second, they cannot be diverted from their planned course.” His voice is husky. “No matter what the inducements. And last but most definitely not least, you had all the relevant facts at your fingertips already and could have saved us both a lot of posturing.”

What the hell has any of this got to do with business? Or sex. Everything is a god-damned lesson to him. We still want different things and I lost sight of that fact.

“Respond, Tabitha.”

“I suppose so.”

“Don’t try my patience.”

“Everything you say. It’s all true. I knew all these things.” I’m only marginally less petulant.

“So you were trying to manipulate the situation?”

Was I? Hell yes. From the knickers stunt in the elevator, on down. “Yes.”

“Did it work?”

“No.” I’ve slid so far down in my seat anyone might think I’m trying to disappear. Like really?

“If you want something badly enough, effective strategy, not emotional manipulation is everything.”

I have no idea what he’s talking about any more but, for the record, I feel well and truly mentored. Every time I think we’re getting personal, he lets me know, unequivocally, for him it’s merely professional.

“But just for the record.” He smiles, his mood changing again as he winks at me. “Sometimes manipulation works.”

My mouth gapes. That’s cryptic. And I have no idea where it leaves me either except right back where I started. Fizzing with hormones.

We turn off Regent’s Street, cut up a small side road and Jack glides the car right onto the double yellow lines outside a salon. “We’re here.” He’s such a rule-breaker.

“The Beauty Lounge.” I read the sign aloud. This place is exclusive. I’ve come across it in glossy magazines. They do a lot of celebrities and I’ve never visited anywhere like it before.

“Get whatever you want. The booking’s in my name. I’m coming back for you in two and a half hours so get cracking.” He hops effortlessly out and comes round to help me.

I’m grateful even though I don’t exactly welcome Jack’s touch right at this moment. It sends too many chills coursing up my spine. But it’s much easier to get in the car elegantly than it is to get out and his strength is there to help me when I need it. I shove that thought right away.

“Thank you.” I give in gracefully.

Jack pauses at my words, leans in and crushes me to his body hard with an arm tight about my waist. His lips on mine are hot and… temporary. He pulls back too soon to look through me with those blue, blue eyes. “You’re not quite so unhappy about wanting me, I think,” he tells me.

I feel his erection pressing up against my belly and I’m left more confused about what this is, than ever.

He turns me towards the salon doorway and swats my backside. “Be good. Two and a half hours,” he reminds me, holding up his arm and tapping his Patek Philippe, waiting for me to disappear inside.

“Where will you be?” I call back before he gets back in the car.

“Taking care of business. Go.”

“Jack?”

“What is it?”

“Can we give lessons a miss for the rest of the day?”

“I have a lot I need to teach you.” I stare after him as he shoos me inside with a wave of his hand. “Make every minute count.”

My head spins. What the hell does that statement mean? Is he hoping they’ll turn the ugly duckling into a swan? First clothes. Now a beauty salon. Is he ashamed to be seen in public with the very ordinary girl from his past?

I skulk up to the reception desk feeling less than confident but am greeted enthusiastically. I wonder if the receptionist already spotted Jack and his flash sports car outside as I don’t usually inspire so much attention. Reluctantly, I feel glad I’ve worn the new designer clothing and not my regular weekend grunge. Appearances are everything. Apparently.

“Jack Keogh?” I say.

The receptionist looks perplexed. She purses her lips at me and I feel such an idiot. Mixed messages, Tabitha. I can hear Jack’s voice in my head. “Actually, I’m not Jack Keogh. I’m sure you know that.” I’m blethering. “I’m Tabitha Caid. I believe an appointment has been booked for me in the name of Jack Keogh.”

Perhaps he has an open arrangement for any woman he deigns to send their way, whatever their name is. Less complications all round. I’m reminded once again that I’m nothing special to Jack.

The receptionist’s face clears. “Mr Keogh’s booking.” She checks her computer. “It’s all here.”

That will be a yes, then.

How familiar are they with Jack Keogh’s women? They begin to take on a life of their own. I suddenly feel the same jealous twinge I felt at the clothes shop. I so want to know but won’t embarrass myself by asking. Imagine if they clam up with client confidentiality. I’d look a pathetic fool.

She hands me a large card. “Decide exactly what you want and we’re good to go as soon as you are.” She indicates a row of plush seats. “Take all the time you need.”

She doesn’t know Jack that well then, I scoff.

I can’t believe the wide range of services and do a quick mental calculation of what I can accomplish in the time I have allocated. I want to look polished for the ball. To be honest, I want to look so alluring Jack can no longer keep his hands off me. It’s a fantasy. It seems he can keep his hands off me just fine. The business he’s taking care of right this minute probably involves another woman.

When something down the page catches my eye I make up my mind instantly. I’ve never been so bold before or so decisive. I have no idea where this devil-child suddenly appears from but I’m definitely having some of that. I read it over carefully to be certain I know what I’ll be getting.

Bollywood Wax. Just like a Hollywood – everything off – but with gemstones.
A vajazzle. What a bombshell. It will shock Jack senseless. I suddenly feel so much better as I see it in my mind. I’m wearing the red, fuck-me, dress. He torments me. Denies me. Lifts my skirt and boom. I laugh out loud.

The receptionist glances across and smiles like she knows.

Anticipation shivers through me. Jack thinks he has me all sussed out but when he tugs off my panties, he’ll find me stark and bare and glittering with jewels. He won’t be able to keep his hands – or his mouth – off me. I can’t wipe the smile from my face. It will be worth every minute of the pain involved.