You're All I Think About_Second Chance Romance

by Scarlett Avery

  He hits me with a nerve-wracking emerald green stare that makes me go weak in the knees. "See something you like?" he asks flashing me a row of perfectly lined white teeth. I was all set to ignore that comment, but he had to add, "I surely hope so, because I see something—or should I say someone—I'd love nothing more than to gorge on."

  As if this freaking sauna wasn't hot enough, his suggestive words just elevated the temperature by at least one hundred degrees.

  "As I was saying, we need ground rules." I slip into ice-queen mode.

  I know it may sound a little harsh, but I really need to start thinking with my head and not my pussy.

  “Kitten, we just got here,” he responds.

  “My name is Charlotte."

  "Take a seat, Charlotte," he says in a softer voice. “No need to stand there like one of King Albert's guards."

  With my eyes still on him, I make my way to the opposite side of the sauna. The more space between us, the better.

  "There," I say when my ass hits the wooden bench like a pissed off three-year-old. I even cross my arms over my chest for effect.

  “I understand why you’re so stressed out. It's been a harrowing trip from London—even on a private jet. After all you did party until the middle of the night. I’m sure it can’t be easy.” I roll my eyes at him. “Enjoy this. This isn’t any ordinary sauna. It’s an infrared sauna."

  “So?”

  "It means you should be in the moment."

  "Who died and made you a bloody Zen master?"

  “I'm simply informing you of the benefits of being present. The gentle, soothing and therapeutic heat promotes relaxation and improves sleep. Think of how rested you’ll wake up tomorrow morning, ready to take on the day and this case," he smiles wide. My God he's taking pleasure from this.

  “Thank you, doctor.” I let out a long sigh before moving to the matter at hand. "About the clothing."

  “Were the sizes off? Is that why you're upset?”

  “No—”

  “You didn’t like the selections?”

  “It’s not that, Barrett, it’s just—”

  "The colors are all wrong?"

  "They're all my best colors."

  “You don’t like the designers I selected?”

  “They’re my absolute favorite ones.”

  “I know,” he grins from ear to ear.

  Bastard.

  "You're impossible," I tell him.

  "Tell me something I don't already know. Honestly, I think you're blowing this out of proportion. I'm just trying to help. Why are you this furious?”

  "You just don't get it, do you?"

  "Relax, I'm just being a gentleman," he retorts.

  “I’m perfectly relaxed,” I quip.

  "How is it that we always end up fighting when we’re near each other?" he asks.

  "Maybe it's because you keep pushing my buttons," I say.

  “Hmph,” he hums.

  “What?”

  “Nothing.”

  I see something dangerous flashing in his eyes, but still, I pursue even though every fiber of my body is screaming, Abort, abort, abort!

  “No, what?”

  “Never mind."

  You think I’d drop it?

  Nope.

  "Seriously? Just spit it out," I temper.

  I'm really going to start thinking that I’m a masochistic person.

  "It's okay. Really."

  Barrett’s tone remains smooth and steady while I grow increasingly flustered. I take a moment to compose myself, drawing a deep breath and allowing the hot sauna air to fill my lungs, but it's to no avail. This man infuriates me.

  Keep focus and keep your eyes away from his toned chest.

  "Aren't you going to respond?" I demand. He shakes his head with a mocking smear painted on his face. "I've never known you to be at a loss for words, Barrister Ascott."

  See what I mean? I have a newfound penchant for self-inflicted punishment.

  "It’s just a thought," he offers.

  "One you'd like to share?"

  "I was just running through my head all of the naughty public places where I’ve fucked you and it dawned on me that I've never heard you scream out my name as I pushed you to the brink inside a sauna. Shame." My jaw drops. "That's it," he shrugs nonchalantly.

  His answer comes across as an irresistible invitation and suddenly I can't think straight anymore.

  “Wh-what?” The bemusement in my voice doesn’t go unnoticed. He flashes me a knowing smile. “I . . . us. . . sauna?” Yup, I’m caught off guard.

  As I scramble to gather my thoughts, Barrett throws me another blow.

  “Can you visualize it?” His voice lowers, becoming husky. “Me driving my very hard cock inside your sweet, tight and impossibly warm pussy, banging your back against that wall…" he says, shifting his eyes to the left and I follow his gaze. “…with every single thrust. And of course, like the good little submissive that you are, you’d take it—all ten inches of me—and thank me for honoring your pussy with my cum. And then when you're spent, trembling like a leaf and completely out of breath, you'd beg me for more. And you know what would happen?" Like a fool I shake my head. I even lean forward to better catch each one of his words. "I’d decide if you’ve earned the right to get more cock or not.” Fuck. "I assume the heat in here would make our bodies incredibly slippery. Adding to the whole filthy experience. Wouldn't you say?" He raises an eyebrow as if the question wasn't loaded enough.

  Shock makes my eyes flare wide open. "Barrett…” My voice breaks over his name.

  I meant to reprimand him, but it came out like a plea.

  His searing gaze doesn't waver away from mine. Not even for a millisecond. Patting my face with the back of my hand, my breathing accelerates as my body keeps on sweating. The electricity in the air is so charged that sweat drips out of me with the same furious velocity as the raging river.

  “Are you wet yet? Is your clit throbbing with anticipation?" he asks with dizzying cocksureness.

  I open my mouth ready to shoot a stingy repartee at him, but this comes out instead, "I… I…Oh, God…"

  "I agree.” The corners of his lips lift. I’m not sure you could consider that a smile, not even an arrogant sneer, it’s far too subtle for that. It has all the markings of a man who drips with confidence. The way he’s staring at me it’s as if he’s already doing all those filthy things to me in his mind. “Why dream about it?” I guess I wasn’t wrong after all. “We can make it happen right now, kitten?” His voice is laced with such wantonness, I have to cross my legs to will my lady parts to behave.

  Calm the fuck down, treacherous pussy.

  “I resent you calling me endearments in that tone.” I do my best to muster a stern tone, despite the fact that my pelvic muscles tighten of their own accord in a series of quick staccato pulses. This is when my body decides to perform Kegel exercises. Brilliant.

  In my defense, the beads of sweat covering his chest are incredibly distracting. Would it be wrong if I were to admit that I want to lick each and every one of them off his delicious body?

  "So I can still call you kitten, as long as it's not in a sexual context?" he retaliates.

  I shift my eyes to the ceiling and shake my head before dropping my gaze and locking it back onto his. "Barrett, can we please have a serious conversation, for God’s sake?"

  “My words weren’t meant to be irreverent. You asked me to, ‘spit it out’. Now you know what's on my mind. Perhaps, not very professional, but at least I'm honest about it. You're just lying to yourself, Charlotte.”

  “You know what? With all due respect to your mum—who I absolutely adore—you’re a smug bastard,” I throw in his face.

  I see it in his eyes. Like a switch, the magic is gone and his walls are back up. I guess I only have myself to blame.

  "I was going to invite you for dinner, but clearly we’d only end up bucking horns. I'll see you tomorrow bright and early at Perraki, Lekkas, Kazakos
and Associates. I'll text you the details. Have a good evening, Charlotte.”

  Without saying another word, he gets up, unwraps the towel around his waist and allows it to drop at his feet. Shamelessly, my eyes are glued on him, blinking furiously as his huge cock salutes me.

  Oh.

  My.

  God.

  It's as if all the air has been sucked out of the sauna as I gasp in amazement. He doesn't even try to hide his massive erection. Sure, I've seen him naked thousands of times, but how can he do this to me? Celibacy is a very lonely journey. One I don't particularly enjoy, especially now. Toys and fingers are great, but no match for Barrett's mighty cock. I really don't need to be reminded that in the last month I've put my work and my best friend’s big twenty-fifth birthday bash in front of my needs.

  Slowly, my eyes meet his. What I read in his dark stare gives me chills. Not an easy feat, considering it's at least fifty degrees Celsius in here. With an unreadable expression, Barrett strolls away with a purposeful stride heading towards the adjacent steam room. With each step, he flashes me his perfectly taut and very bitable muscular ass.

  Blimey!

  And just like that he's gone.

  Trying to recover from the Barrett whirlwind that just blew through this sauna, I sit there jaw-dropped, still staring at the door he just walked out of.

  Jesus Christ. How the fuck am I going to survive this?

  CHAPTER 9

  Barrett

  Bloody hell she drives me mad.

  No other woman on this planet pushes my buttons like she does, yet everything about her is simply delectable. Every time I think I can move on and put what we shared behind me, I bump into her and just like that I'm drawn into the passion and turbulence that characterizes our relationship.

  My butterfly… Charlotte…

  Just her name makes my cock twitch. Fucking traitor. Even after a very cold shower and wanking twice, I'm still horny as hell and aching with longing.

  After that little standoff at the precinct, I was ready to keep things professional, but being that close to her after six very long months was more than I could bear. The vision of her in nothing but that towel still haunts me. The glistening beads of sweat covering her neck and shoulders begged for my tongue. Those lips—still perfectly painted in red—were taunting and tempting me at the same time. And I was so mesmerized by those long sexy naked legs, I'm surprised I was able to think. In other words, everything about Charlotte is an outright invitation to misbehave.

  Did I push her too far? Perhaps.

  It wasn’t even a question of trying to censor myself. Charlotte brings out my feral nature, hence the uninhibited banter.

  I stare down at the stupid bulge between my legs and shake my head. I can't believe I'm hard again. My ridiculous appetite for this woman got me into this mess. That dirty proposal was justified. I figure that if we just got it out of the way and fucked each other's brains out, I could keep it professional.

  I let out a long sigh. “How am I supposed to do my work when my cock is doing all the thinking?” I grunt.

  I rub my hands across my face and sit on the bed.

  "No. I need a drink—a very tall and stiff one."

  Deep in thought, I set off to the other room on a mission to drink enough to cut the edge or at least allow myself to go through the next few hours without the urge to run back to the bathroom to wank.

  As I reach the living area, the hotel phone rings. I change my trajectory, head straight towards it and pick up.

  "Hello?"

  "Mr. Ascott, you’ve completely forgotten about me. Things must be worse than I thought if you didn't even take the time to call or text since you landed. That was ages ago," the woman on the other end admonishes.

  "Bloody hell, I am so sorry, Felicity. It completely slipped my mind."

  "I called you several times, but each time, it went straight to voicemail."

  "I was at the spa.” With someone who makes me forget time. “And I left my phone in my room," I explain.

  "Ah. I see. I was wondering if you hadn’t lost your phone again, that’s why I decided to call the hotel," she says.

  "No. Thank God. That's one headache I don't need right now."

  “That bad?”

  "Let me call you back from my mobile. If I don't, this conversation is going to cost me a fortune."

  "Okay," Felicity says before hanging up.

  I make a quick trip back to the bedroom, grab my iPhone and dial my secretary.

  "Hello again," I cheer.

  "Hello, boss."

  "No need for such formalities, Mrs. Coggins. King will suffice."

  "I'm going to blame the long hours you’ve been working lately and the fact that you had to fly out of here in the middle of the night for that sudden lapse in judgment," she jokes.

  "You’re lucky I need you so much or else I'd fire you on the spot," I joke back.

  We both laugh.

  I’d be in serious trouble without Felicity. She's the one who keeps everything stitched together in my life. Well, my professional life that is. My personal life is a lost cause, but you already know that.

  Felicity was my father's secretary. Mrs. Innogen Bardinger, my father's previous long-term secretary retired after decades of service, and Felicity replaced her. Alas, she was only able to work for my father for a few short years before he passed. My father had only high praise for Felicity, so it made sense for me to keep her. The woman has such a high work ethic that at times, she makes me feel like a slacker.

  "I gather you aren’t lying on a beach under the Greek sun working on your tan with a tumbler of aged whiskey in one hand and your iPad in the other?"

  "Hardly. At this rate, my ass will be returning back to London as white as it was when I left," I chuckle.

  "Yikes, that doesn't sound too good. So, what have you found out since you landed?" Felicity asks. Over the next few minutes, I share with her exactly what I’d shared with Landan Inglis. "What a mess," she says when I'm done. "It sounds like it's just the tip of the iceberg."

  "Exactly. There's a lot we don't know yet. And that's what worries me. I'm already bracing myself for the other shoe to drop and I know it won't be pretty."

  "Does the record company have a publicist? Someone is going to have to smoothen things out with the press. They're going after the lad like piranhas. And from what I understand, they aren’t very kind to Jason in America or his native Canada either."

  "The juvenile teenager had it coming, but to answer your question yes, they do have a publicist.”

  "Someone local?"

  "No, a Brit."

  Of course, I could say who it is, but the longer I drag this out, the better.

  "At least Groove Renegade have their ducks in a row. Seems like there’s something they can control because this story with Jason doesn't sound like it's going to be a walk in the park," Felicity comments.

  “It certainly won't be," I agree.

  "I hope this publicist is good."

  "Indeed. She’s one of the best in the business. She's brilliant actually."

  Felicity doesn't answer immediately, but I know it's coming.

  Wait for it.

  "Oh, no. Oh, no. Oh, no. Please, God, no," she prays.

  "What?" I ask with feigned innocence.

  "There’s only one publicist in London you call, ‘brilliant’. You're working with her, aren't you? That's why you haven't called.”

  "Yes. I’m working with Charlotte and we've been ironing out a few things."

  "You mean you’ve been at each other's throats," Felicity says.

  "Charlotte and I are perfectly capable of working together when we put our minds to it," I snap.

  "Right." I can see Felicity's eyes roll into the phone.

  "It's not my decision. I had no idea the record company had hired her. Now, we don't have a choice. We have to make the most of it."

  “In other words, the two of you are going at it like cat and dog."


  Felicity isn't entirely wrong.

  "Did you call me to share your unsolicited opinion about my working relationship with my ex or is there something that requires my attention?"

  It's time to put an end to this conversation.

  "You're right, Mr. Ascott. It isn't my place to comment on your relationship with Miss Wentworth." There we go again. "Far from it for me to suggest that you might want to consider sending one of the senior lawyers down to replace you. I'd never do that. No, not me. That would definitely be stepping outside my boundaries. After all, I’m only your secretary and I really, really, really love my job… and my wonderful boss so I'll keep my mouth shut."

  Did I mention that Felicity is as much of a straight shooter as I am? And like any self-respecting Brit, her sense of humor is slicing.

  “Enough,” I admonish with an amusing tone. "Let's start talking about business before I change my mind about firing you."

  “Yes, sir." We both laugh. "I was calling about your meeting first thing tomorrow morning with Xander Emerson. When would you like me to reschedule it?"

  "Bollocks. I honestly don't think I can give you a date, Felicity. With all this chaos, I'll be out in Athens for a while. Why don't I sort this out and I'll get back to you?"

  "Excellent. I’ve already gone ahead and rescheduled all of your other appointments for the rest of the week, and I've contacted all of the appointments you have next week and put them on standby. That said, I know you and Mr. Emerson have a long history."

  "We do. Good call. I'll take care of it personally. In fact, I'll ring him up right now."

  "Perfect. I'll speak to you soon," she says.

  "Absolutely. We'll be in touch."

  * * *

  I hang up with Felicity and resume my mission. I head to the bar to prepare myself a drink.

  At sixteen hundred British pounds per night, the Deluxe Royal Executive Suite at the Rhodes Royal Olympia Hotel costs an absolute fortune. The full bar in the living room stocked with the absolute best, makes up for the exorbitant price tag in spades.