“You already know that. I’m not going to make a bigger twat of myself by saying it.”
More silence. It had been only three days since we’d broken up–in his mourning, there was the echo of hope that our fling might survive. I remembered what Joseph had said about Isobel: I had to give her a catalogue of grotesque reasons to finish with me.
Then I thought about Charlie, the man who’d shaped Charlotte when she was just a lump of school uniform and clay. Matt’s stepfather. That was a secret more serrated than any knife.
No, no. I couldn’t be that cruel.
“I wish I was enough for you,” Matt mumbled.
I touched his knee and he swatted me away. “It wasn’t ever about that.”
“Of course it was. You know, I sat in that hotel room last night and looked around at all your stuff with his stuff. You wouldn’t have known that he bought you. D’you know what I realized? I could give you all the money in the world, but you’ll never put your dress over my shirt on the back of a chair. What a fucking gay thing to notice…I can’t shake it. Keep seeing it.”
“Matt.”
“No. Eventually, you’re going to find someone and settle down and have this thing you say I want. Everyone does.” He cleared his throat. “But it won’t be with me.”
We’d been involved for less than two weeks. Hardly a lifelong obligation, huh? These words simmered on my tongue. But then to Matt, it was never about what he deserved to get from me. Just whether he’d been punished hard enough. It almost sounded like he talked to himself more than me–maybe this apology wasn’t for my benefit.
Aidan was cleverer than he let on.
“I’m sorry,” I said.
“Sorry doesn’t fix anything.”
“That’s half the problem though, isn’t it?” Like two pieces of broken glass, we’d never heal each other. We’d just slowly disintegrate, the longer we tried. “All this fixing.”
He sniffed again. “I would try.”
“I know you would. Your persistence is quite admirable.”
“Cheers.”
“And if it makes you feel any better, you’re officially the only boyfriend I’ve ever been faithful to,” I said.
“Really?”
“Yep.”
“That’s quite an honour.”
I peered beneath his hair–he tried not to smile. “And I would totally still jump you,” I added, “if it wasn’t for…well, you know.”
“As much as it pains me to say it, that’d be a bad idea.”
“My life mostly consists of bad ideas.”
“If it wasn’t for one of those bad ideas, I’d have never been with you in the first place,” he said. “And I wouldn’t take it back.”
I narrowed my eyes. “I never said the whoring was one of them.”
“Yeah…well.” He sat back against the bench–the first time I’d seen him relax since we arrived in New York. “We’re going to agree to be friends now, aren’t we? Why do I feel like we’ve done this before?” He squinted at me in the collage of sun and tree shade.
“We have. Only we hadn’t emotionally fucked each other with a cattle prod at that point.”
“Speak for yourself, Leila. I can’t handle being friends right now, not full-on. Maybe eventually…ah, I don’t know.” He gave a shrug and a heavy sigh.
“I understand. And I’m sorry.”
“Will you tell me something, honestly? I need to know.”
“Okay,” I said, cautious.
“Is Joseph more than your client?”
“Honestly?” I pushed my tongue into my cheek. “I’m not entirely sure.”
“I heard that he dumped his girlfriend, and what with you finishing with me–”
“It wasn’t planned.” I almost choked in my rush to speak. “We’re not having a secret affair. He has said things that make me wonder if he wants more, and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t interested…but I don’t know.” The admission lingered between us, swelling silently.
Matt flexed fingers from balled fists. “If something does happen, will you tell me? I don’t want to hear it from anyone else.”
“I will.”
“Shall we walk back to the hotel?”
It was a relief to walk away from that claustrophobic little bench. “Are you out with Aidan again this evening?”
“No idea. I last saw him at about two AM and he wasn’t looking particularly conscious.”
“Oopsie.”
“I was teaching him to play rugby in the hotel car park,” he said. “We got an American football from…er…I don’t remember. I hope we didn’t steal it.”
“Aidan probably swapped it for sexual favours in an alley, or something.”
“He is a bit slutty, isn’t he?”
I grabbed hold of his arm as we dove into a group of pedestrians, and once again, he didn’t flinch or shake me off.
“Don’t tell me you were never slutty, Matt.”
“I’m not in his league.”
“And what league might that be?”
“I think he phrased it well with three cocks away from syphilis,” he said with a wince.
As we walked, I let his arm slip from mine. In that touch, there were echoes of a lost intimacy that I had mourned ten times over. Back at the hotel, I was surprised when the lift zipped past his floor, but I didn’t voice it–just glowed in our rekindled friendship, sudden and fragile as it seemed.
We stopped at my door and I was reminded of the night of his rugby fundraiser–the ridiculous uniform we’d escaped home in, the awkward longing to drag him into bed. We had just decided we were a couple, then.
Now we were two separate entities again. No point being nervous.
I reached up and wrapped my arms around his neck, squashed my face against his shoulder. He stiffened…but then his hands spanned my back, and he hugged me so tightly I thought I might split down the middle.
My breath hit his first, and then his mouth. It was a sweet little kiss, slow and deliberate, barely lips brushing lips, and yet the history behind it all meant it felt ten minutes long.
“I didn’t want that awful Saturday to be the last time I kissed you,” he said softly.
“S’okay. It was nice.”
“Yeah.” He knotted a hand into his hair, looking away. “I suppose I’ll see you around, then.”
“Later.”
“Right.” He went to walk away. Paused. “If you…well…you know where I am if you want me, Leila.”
“Okay.”
Joseph waited on the other side of the suite door. Between the black marble tables, cream velvet sofas and dishes spilling scarlet roses, he looked every inch the wolf, groomed and stuffed into a suit.
“He thinks you’ll go back to him,” he said, not looking up from his file.
I nodded. “Perhaps.”
“Is that what you want?”
“Yes.” The word felt prickly. “But not enough.”
“He grates on you.”
“That sounds…mean. But like you and Isobel, we’re badly matched, I s’pose.”
He sat back. “And did you set out to corrupt him too?”
“I think you did.” I sat in his lap and he nudged my legs apart, making me straddle him. It all felt so easy. “I didn’t mean to change him.”
“He thought he could change you, though.” He gazed up, bit his lip. “All those things he liked least about himself.”
And I had wanted Matt to change me. Did Joseph know that too?
“Are you sure you did law, and not psychology?”
He laughed–rich, dark. Unsettling. “I did study psychology, as it happens.”
I pulled his head back by a handful of hair. “Oh?”
“You really want to know?”
“I do.” I pushed his lips apart with a fingertip. Kissed him like I hadn’t had breakfast.
“I started my degree in psychology. At Cambridge.” He tugged my hips in and mashed the gusset of my knickers over his solid cock
. “It was horse shit. I went into it because I was sick of putting people in boxes, and that was all it amounted to, in the end. I dropped out.”
“I can’t imagine you quitting anything.”
“It didn’t feel like quitting, Leila. The course was a waste of my time. My dad went berserk. Had words with people he knew there. I went back the next year and read law.”
“That suited better?”
“I wanted philosophy or economics. He said they were useless and homosexual.” He gave a lazy smile. “But in the end, law…I like the flexibility. I get to reason my way out of all the boxes.” He pulled up my skirt. “And into other things.”
“There’s not a lot of reason under there.”
“Mmm.” He brought my hands to his belt buckle and tugged it undone. “I could change that.”
I teased him out from beneath his clothes, my thumbs circling his head. Each little twitch made me ache. “How might that work?”
He hooked a finger under and slowly pushed my knickers aside, rubbing my clit as he went. Our pubic bones met with a hollow thump as I sank on to his cock. Now this was why I waxed–the sweet, sticky feel of skin on skin. Ah.
“Let’s see…” He sucked on my bottom lip. “I want to hear that pitch again.”
“Not now.”
He shoved me down and my laughter ebbed to a moan. “Be a good girl.”
“I…no.”
The world tipped backward when he bent, and I half fell on to the rug. Thick velour burned against my back. His arms grew solid as he leaned on them, as he pushed my legs back with a jerk of his knee, and he went deep enough for the line between pleasure and pain to grow transient.
“We’re a lot like Redfish, you know.”
I yelped in response.
“Pretending to court this pitch, this perfect offer…when really, we were ready and willing before we knew what was on the table.”
I arched involuntarily and he caught a nipple in his mouth, biting through my flimsy dress.
“And we will fight out the terms with our perfect manners until we get what we want. What suits us both.” Such a gruff voice. Caged. “Do you think we could find something that suits us both, Leila?”
“I–if this is common ground, I like it.”
His slow rhythm was as foreboding as it was playful. “This is the battlefield.” He pinned my hands above my head, gaining pace. “And that’s not what I meant.” He reached down to drag my dress up, revealing the brand he’d etched so carefully the night before. “This. This is what I want.”
I didn’t know what he was implying. Didn’t have the sense to ask, either. Charlotte whispered that I shouldn’t, and I lay consumed with writhing pleasure and the echo of my pulse in my ears.
“Joe…”
“Yeah?” The word disintegrated to a low groan.
“I…I just like saying it. Feels good in my mouth.”
“Oh. Jesus.”
If he’d found reason, now he ignored it, pounding himself into me hard enough to bruise. I closed in around him, a fleshy corset with the ribbons bound tight to his hips–either they would snap or I would. Ladies first…
Then he stopped. His whisper was rough around my earlobe. “Hands and knees.”
For a moment, I lay panting on the floor. Then it occurred to me what that meant. Cool air rushed between my thighs and as it tickled, I realized how soaking wet I was. I rolled on to my belly, and he tugged down my knickers as my ass rose.
I’d been waiting for him to do this since that first night in the Trafalgar hotel.
To give him credit, he was gentler than he’d ever been–I was so unprepared–but I yielded like it didn’t matter and cried out at the warm ache. He filled the valley he shouldn’t, the valley that pined for him regardless, and I lurched forward only to sink back on to him all over again.
“You’re good at this.” He groaned. He brushed fingers around my hipbone, already making the little circles that would drive me mad. I swear he ploughed even deeper on that first stroke. Good job I’d made him so slippery.
It wasn’t making love; it wasn’t fucking, either. There was a connection on that base level he spoke of and our skin rubbed raw with it. I belonged here like this, taking all he had, gasping like my throat would close in.
Back and forth, back and forth. I was his, empty and then full of things that grew for me. Things that didn’t need water and sun. He rocked until circles spilled into my belly and I shuddered in the grip of the waves. Couldn’t stop my mouth smiling around his name. It barely ebbed before I shoved his fingers away, urging him faster, moaning how I wanted to feel his own release. What with those perfect manners and all…the wolf obliged.
“I’m not used to having this much fun with my clothes still on.” I nuzzled the shoulder that was suddenly beside mine. A strong arm drew me up for a kiss.
“I love how you’re so…so…”
I remembered Matt’s comment about Aidan. “Slutty?”
“That term is wasted on you, Leila.” He tucked dishevelled curls back behind my ears. “What I mean is that I love how you don’t care about it.”
“It’s not a bad thing.” I shrugged. “I’m not spreading myself around to the point where I’m…” Three cocks away from syphilis. “Where I’m ashamed. Besides, slutty has connotations that are more to do with self-esteem than sex.”
“Indeed.”
My nail made a little pink groove along his belly. It sprang up pale again. A ghost. “It’s like people are suggesting you don’t do it for the pleasure of it. Just the confidence boost.”
“Whereas they assume men want the pleasure, but don’t much care about anything else.”
I smiled up at him, eyes playful. Charlotte talked now because he spoke her language. “Nature says you’re sowing your wild oats, and that’s what women are really after.”
He nodded. “I just fucked nature in the arsehole. Let’s see how it likes that one, hmm?”
* * * *
With lunch still heavy in our stomachs, we rode down to the Redfish building and plunged into the pitch.
Or at least, Joseph, Yves and Poppy did. Matt and I sat at the end of the table to observe. I’d seen Joseph do his stuff a couple of times–I’d been working in his office for nearly six months, after all–but I’d never watched him do it naked. This was X-ray vision. I couldn’t shake the memory of that body. Words moulded to the broad line of his shoulders, clung to his fingertips as he pointed and exclaimed, and they dressed him better than his slim-fitting shirt.
I wasn’t the only one, either. There were several women from Redfish present and I saw their heads bobbing as he gestured, their eyes following his. One might think a man explaining UK tax on acquisitions would be boring. One would be right, too, except that Joseph turned it into some form of mathematic porn.
Poppy stepped in at the end to explain the fee structure. I was pleased with myself for not being jealous, though she voiced it clearly and cleverly, making it sound as if we were doing them a favour. I’d had the envy pounded out of me–ahem–and judging by Matt’s greeting, civil but uneasy, he was well aware.
Deacon paused from chewing his pen. “So say we decide to use you. We make our offer. What sort of timescale are we looking at?”
“Depends entirely on Hemmings,” Yves replied. “Once they accept–and they’ll probably have to consult with their shareholders first, as well as their own legal team–we can begin the process in a matter of hours.”
“And how long can we expect them to entertain our offer?”
Joseph shrugged. “Anything from a few hours to a few days. A company Hemmings’ size, it will be adequate. But we’re very persistent.” He smiled. “Things happen fast over here, as you say. We can keep up.”
Deacon nudged Kenji and murmured something under his breath.
“Assuming the offer went through, we’d be spending a fair amount of time in the UK to get the things underway,” said Kenji. “I trust you’d be able to help us in tha
t respect?”
“Absolutely.” Joseph perched on the end of the desk. “Most of our work is at an international level. We represent several other pharmaceutical companies in both Europe and the US, so we get a lot of practice in entertaining our clients. We look after people. We’re very good at that. Matt?”
Matt blinked at him. “Mr Merchant?”
“You’ve done some brilliant networking for us in particular. Maybe you’d like to explain how we welcome our clients in the UK?”
I was surprised at Matt’s steady tone, his choice details. Proud of him, actually. Clever boy, once mine, who now belonged only to minutes he graced with breath.
I half expected to be picked on, but the questions were done. Joseph inclined his head to indicate that we were free, and then drew Deacon and Kenji into the corner for a more personal chat. Poppy lingered awkwardly at his side, nodding and smiling like a wooden puppet–he didn’t make an effort to involve her and I pitied her a bit. Putting my jealousy aside, she really was good at all this. Hell, I’d hire her.
I wandered out on to the hot pavement with Matt.
“That went well,” I said.
He stuffed his hands into his pockets as we walked. “Yeah, I suppose so.”
“Gorgeous afternoon.” I felt like we should be talking. About…something.
“For a concrete jungle, I suppose. Still can’t get used to big cities and I’ve been in London for years.”
“I like them. Well, I like the people in them, anyway.”
“I know.”
He said it so mournfully that I could have wept.
Chapter 2
“Look at you, Lei-Lei. It’s disgusting.”
I raised an eyebrow at Aidan as I fell down into the raffia chair. He’d chosen an Italian place for dinner, and the evening was cool and balmy, just the weather for sitting outside. Tucked into the sidewalk, our table made a rock beside a meandering river of pedestrians.
“What’s disgusting?”
He took off his sunglasses and smoothed his unruly hair. “It’s all over you, you foul whore. You’re…happy.” A mock shudder punctuated the last word.
“Am I?” Oh. My face didn’t ache through squinting at the sun, but because of the great grin plastered over it. “I suppose I am, a bit.”
Breaking Joseph Page 2
