The Accidental Mistress (21 page)

Yikes, I paid for sex. How cool is that?

Well-being washed away all qualms, and she smiled against the duvet, suddenly wanting to laugh. Slowly, she rolled over and on to her side, wanting to see Sholto’s face. He was sitting on the bed at her side, cross-legged, watching her, with a cryptic little smile on his face.

Immediately, Shelley felt embarrassed. Her bra was twisted and not covering her in any significant way, and hot blood rushed to her face when his cool green gaze flicked to
her nipples. She grappled with the bra, but it was too tangled and, before she could stop him, Sholto reached over, eased narrow straps out of her fingers and drew it away from her body entirely. He tossed it away, and instead, retrieved the comforter and wrapped it around her shoulders.

‘OK now?’ His voice was soft, and Shelley bridled inside, sensing he was laughing at her. How easy it must be for a man with looks like his, and hands like his, to turn clients into pliant, whimpering little puddles.

It was all just a job to him. Business as usual. He probably wasn’t even aroused himself.

But when she glanced at his crotch, she got a surprise.

There was a hard-looking bulge beneath the black denim.

A big and hard-looking bulge.

‘Well, that was nice,’ she said, slipping off the bed and heading for the sideboard. On the point of getting more whisky, she chose mineral water instead. She was befuddled enough; she didn’t want her faculties dulled. She wanted it all, and she wanted to get the best from it.

Sipping the cold fluid, she realised how parched her throat was, and almost sighed at a different kind of pleasure.

‘What else is on the menu?’ she asked. Sholto was exactly where she’d left him, with that understated, unreadable smile on his face. And the huge erection still there in his jeans.

‘That depends.’ He stared her squarely in the eye, unmoving.

‘Well, isn’t sex usually included in these deals?’

‘Not officially, but usually, yes,’ he drawled as he swung his legs off the bed, dropped lightly on to his feet and strolled across to where she stood. Not taking his eyes off her, he poured water for himself and took a sip, studying her over the rim of the glass. ‘We can’t technically advertise or offer
sex, but everybody knows the score.’ After another swallow of water, he set the glass down again.

Something in his slow arrogance made her fume. ‘Right. OK. So I have to pay
extra
for that, then?’ she demanded, stomping to where her bag lay on a chair. She was conscious that she was wearing just knickers and a blanket, and she felt incredibly foolish, especially in light of what she’d just let this infuriating man do to her. But if she wanted a proper seeing to, there was an additional fee, apparently.

‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ said Sholto, beside her in a couple of strides. Gently but firmly he took the bag from her, dropped it on to the chair, then gripped her shoulders, making her face him. ‘We’ve only just started. It isn’t a one orgasm and run deal, Shelley. I’m a full service guy … we’re just taking time out.’

‘Well you might have said so.’

She knew she sounded petulant and childish, but the way he’d touched her had been so exquisite, so perfect and intense, she’d almost believed it was
real
. That somehow, even though it was a job to him, he’d
wanted
to do it, stupid as that seemed.

His fingers tightened around her upper arms, unremitting through the blanket. His face looked dark, intense, angry. Why the hell was she goading him? This was all supposed to be light, and fun, but he just seemed to bring out a combative spirit in her that no man ever had done before.

‘I’m saying so now, Shelley.’ His words were low and gritty, a world away from the flattering soft soap one might have expected from an escort.

A feeling like warm honey being stirred inside her made Shelley swallow, and her knees feel as if they were going to buckle. She wasn’t sure she’d ever even wanted that soft soap.

This harder, provocative man was infinitely more exciting. A million words and questions buzzed inside her, but before she could capture and use any of them, Sholto leaned forward and began to kiss her.

His mouth was fierce, almost cruel, deliciously dominating.

This is what you do, isn’t it? You just take a woman over, swamp every part of her with yourself, drench her in your power, make her hunger for what you can give, whether it be pleasure … or pain.

She let herself drift, sink into the kiss, her tongue soft and languorous beneath the onslaught of his hard, muscular one. His mouth tasted fresh and hot, still faintly of whisky, but the intoxication came from the man himself. Her breasts tingled as he still held on to her, and her pussy fluttered, running anew, wanting and wanting him.

She moaned, the sound muffled by the kiss.

‘What do you want, Shelley?’ he whispered as he broke away from her, his mouth still roving across her face, dusting kisses on her cheek, her jaw, her neck, nipping and nibbling.

‘I … I want … I want to go to bed.’ It was the only way she could describe it. Her brain wasn’t working properly. She wanted far more than bed, a simple tumble, but with him kissing her throat, and her pulse point, and pouring some sort of arcane power into her from his gripping fingers, she couldn’t quite express it.

‘Good. So do I,’ he said crisply, drawing back, and looking into her eyes, ‘for starters.’

‘This is a really stupid time to have a house meeting. I’m exhausted. Can’t we do it tomorrow?’

Lizzie was inclined to agree with Shelley. It wasn’t an ideal time for a sit-down, even though midnight meetings were sort of a tradition at St Patrick’s Road, with Brent often calling them late at night, on the spur of the moment.

‘We’re all up now,’ he pointed out, ‘and we’re all in. Tomorrow we might all be busy all day. I’ll certainly be out. I need to get back to the centre as soon as poss, or I’ll be out of a job. They’ve been very patient with me through my … um … little difficulty. But they’re not a charity and they won’t hold my job for me for ever.’

‘It was a bit more than a “little difficulty”, B,’ Lizzie pointed out, remembering the terror she’d felt; the shock that John had helped her through, in his competent, compassionate way. It was a joy, though, now, that Brent looked so much better after his brief visit to his parents. His black curls were as untidy as ever, but his colour was better, and he was just lean now, not unsettlingly thin. His suicide attempt had shaken him up, and turned him around, but in the wake of it,
and a course of counselling, he seemed grounded, and ready to heal. If not fully yet, well certainly in time.

She could smile now. It was wonderful to have him back, although she’d been less than delighted by the suddenness of his reappearance.

Oh, that had been a nightmare. Like a farce or an old
Carry On
film. Almost caught in the act, she still felt like an idiot, even though John’s perfect sangfroid had kicked in straight away. And he’d seen the funny side more easily than she had at the time … Perfectly composed, he’d chatted with Brent afterwards as if they were the oldest of friends, while all the time she’d been puce in the face, and convinced that her house-mate was scrutinising her for incriminating signs of what had oh so nearly happened on the sofa.

John had left soon after. Apparently unruffled until they were outside on the step, he’d caught hold of her once they were out of Brent’s earshot, and embraced her almost as if they might never see each other again. Setting inner alarms ringing …

‘I’m sorry,’ she’d whispered, breathless from his kiss, ‘I had no idea he was coming home.’

‘Don’t worry, sweetheart.’ His fingers had flickered down her face, as if imprinting the feel of her skin. ‘It could have been worse. We might have been fucking. At least we got away with our dignity intact.’ He kissed her lips again. ‘Just about …’ He snatched another kiss, this time more hungry, more desperate, as if revisiting the broken moment just before they’d tumbled off the sofa together.

‘I’m back to London tomorrow. I should have been there today, but I couldn’t bear not to see you.’ He kissed her again, as if he couldn’t stop, but gentler this time. ‘I’ll call and see
you before I set off, though … either here, or at the shop … is that all right?’

‘Of course it’s all right!’ She hated the dark and troubled look in his eyes. A look she’d probably put there with her sudden protestations of love and her incessant misgivings over important things like moving in with him. She wanted to beg him not to take her sudden avowal seriously, but at the same time she wanted to quiz him for specifics about when he’d be back.

Too needy, too pathetic!

John had a busy life, with many demands; she couldn’t ask him to disrupt it for her, especially when she’d made such a ridiculous big deal over him
not
taking over her life whenever it suited him.

Jesus, relationships were amazing, but they could be hard, bloody hard. She tried to focus on the memory of his kisses, and the pleasure of his company … not all the prickliness of partings and arrangements, and the wrenching feeling in her heart when, having summoned the ever efficient Jeffrey, John had climbed into the limousine and let it spirit him away.

‘Yes, I know,’ said Brent, his gentle tone snapping Lizzie back into the room. There’d be time to brood about John later, and miss him, even though it was barely an hour since she’d seen him. She focused on her friend, glad he looked so calm and normal. ‘I was in trouble … but I’m feeling so much better now, believe me. Even managed not to argue with my folks.’ He paused and grinned. ‘Although it was probably best I left when I did, or we might have started scrapping again. Now, shall we get back to the matter in hand?’

‘Yes, please, let’s … and then some of us can get some sleep!’ Shelley sounded tired and there was a wild, bleary
look in her eyes too, that Lizzie recognised. She’d seen it in her own face, in the mirror, after being with John.

What’s happening, love? What’s going on?

However Shelley’s date had gone, it hadn’t been … normal. Her instinct tuned by her own ‘not normal’, Lizzie longed to ask, but this wasn’t the moment. They’d have to snatch some girl talk when Brent was out at work.

‘This house he’s bought … are you moving in?’ Jesus, right to the crux of the matter!

‘I … I don’t know …’ Two pairs of eyes seemed to drill into her. Well, three actually … Mulder had wandered in, and jumped up on to Shelley’s lap, and even the cat seemed to be hanging on her words. ‘Not yet, at least. I mean … It’s really early days between him and me, and moving in is a huge step.’ She shrugged, glancing around at the small, familiar kitchen with all their mugs and their pictures on the fridge. Familiarity. Safety. The world she knew, and in which she knew her place. ‘And I like it here, with you guys.’

‘I’d miss you big time if you went,’ said Shelley, fondling the cat on her lap, looking more and more preoccupied. ‘Not to mention the fact that Mrs B’s just put the rent up, and it’s a struggle as it is.’

‘I’d never leave you in the lurch.’

John would pay it. The sum they had to find to enjoy the comforts of such a nice, big house was nothing to him. A pin-prick. She could ask him and he’d arrange a standing order, and then move on without any further mention, barely noting that he’d done it.

‘Couldn’t
he
pay the rent for you?’ Shelley voiced Lizzie’s own thought.

‘He could, and he would. But I don’t want to put him in a position where he feels obliged to … There’s no easy answer,
and he’s already paid for the telly and the broadband. I don’t like taking advantage.’

‘I doubt he looks at it that way,’ said Brent. ‘From what I can see, he just likes to make life easier and more pleasant for someone he cares about … and her lucky friends.’ He grinned. ‘Jesus, Lizzie, the broadband is blazing now … Please don’t go all moral high ground on us and insist on going back to our old package.’

‘No! Please don’t! I love all the new channels,’ chimed in Shelley.

‘Panic not! I won’t! But seriously, you guys … What if I split up with him, what happens then?’ Lizzie reached for her tea, and gulped some down. It wasn’t very warm, but the sudden horrid thought had made her feel ill, physically ill. ‘I don’t want that to happen, far from it, but you know what life’s like. You can’t bank on anything or anybody for ever … I mean, I love him and all that, but there might come a time … I don’t know …’

‘Are you all right, love? You’ve gone all white.’ Brent rose and leaned across the table, to top up her mug from the teapot.

‘I’m fine. Don’t fuss.’

‘You’re not pregnant, are you?’ Shelley’s eyes were wide. ‘No! Of course not!’

‘Seriously, though,’ said Brent, ‘he does really care for you. He cares for you a lot. He pretty much told me that, when we were in contact.’

Lizzie swung towards him. ‘And yes, I have a fair old bag of bones to pick with you over that. Going behind my back, you sneak!’

‘It worked out OK, though, didn’t it?’

It was impossible not to smile at him, and be grateful. He was the
other
man in her life, and he’d conspired with the
love of her life … to bring that man right back to her.

‘Yes, but still …’ She shrugged. Bracing up. No use worrying about stuff that hadn’t happened yet. ‘Anyway, back to the main point of order. I’ll be staying here a while yet, at least. I think he’s OK with that. I might not be here some nights, and maybe some weekends, but technically I’ll still be on the rent book and paying my whack. After all, I won’t be paying any rent for staying at Dalethwaite, so it doesn’t make any difference to us, does it? Not on that score.’

‘OK, then. That’s one thing sorted,’ said Brent crisply, as if he was marking agenda items off a mental checklist. ‘Next order of business … What about you, Mizz Moore?’ He turned to Shelley. ‘What have you been up to this evening? You’ve got a decidedly furtive look about you.’

Shelley shifted the cat on her knee like a feline shield, stroking in a swift, repetitive action. ‘I haven’t been up to anything.’