Lingerie on the Floor (The Londonaire Brothers Series Book 1)

by Amanda Aksel

  “Aargh!” I mime pulling my hair out. “Why do I miss him so much?”

  “You’re in love with him, aren’t you?” Beau asks with a gasp and a goofy smile.

  I clench my jaw and my face grows hot. “I’m not in love. No one’s talking about love except for you.”

  “Kate likes a boyyy, Kate loves a booooyyy!” Garret sings teasingly, dancing in his seat. Beau giggles.

  “C’mon, you guys. This is serious.” The moment the words are out of my mouth, I realize just how serious it is. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about him. What do I do now?” I ask, wincing. How do you shake this kinda thing off?

  Garret laughs as if I’ve just asked him what the internet is. “There’s nothing you can do. Crushes have to run their course. It’ll go away eventually.”

  “No, this isn’t just a crush,” Beau chimes in. “They had something real.”

  “Whatever it was, it’s over now,” Garret waves off Beau’s remark and I’m torn between what the two of them are saying.

  Beau rolls her eyes, then looks to me. “Well, I think he feels the same way about you.”

  “Beau,” Garret says like he’s warning her to stop talking. “Why are you egging her on? This is just like one of your foreign affairs.”

  Beau looks slightly offended but he makes a good point. Perhaps, I just got swept away like she always does.

  “That’s true, Beau. Didn’t we just talk about how it was only about the passionate sex with all those guys you thought were The One?” I ask, soothing myself even more with the idea that it was just good sex and the memory will eventually fade. I’m not in love with Drew. People don’t fall in love after only a few weeks. That’s ridiculous, right?

  “Yes, but . . .” she says.

  “But what?”

  “None of those guys were it for me. But I wouldn’t have known that if I didn’t at least try to see it through. What if this guy really is The One?”

  I shake my head. “I hate that saying, The One. There is no One for anybody.”

  “Uh-uh.” Beau makes a tsk-tsk gesture. “Your mom was The One for your dad.”

  I swallow hard. They are the last people I want to compare Drew and myself with. “And look how well that turned out.”

  Beau reaches across the table and places her hand on mine. “Kate, if your mom hadn’t died, don’t you think your parents would’ve lived happily ever after?”

  I glance up, flattening my lips. “I guess we’ll never know now.”

  “And you’ll never know if there isn’t something real between you and Drew if you don’t see it through,” she says while Garret sits back, quietly engrossed in our conversation like he’s watching an episode of Real Housewives of Something Or Another.

  “Even if I wanted to pursue it, he lives halfway around the world. I’m not uprooting my life for some guy and I sure as hell don’t think he’d do that for me.”

  “He might,” Beau says. “Why don’t you invite him to join you in New York next week. Feel him out.”

  “She means feel him out,” Garret motions a hand job.

  I laugh, grateful for the break in the tense conversation.

  Beau whacks his hand down. “Stop.” She looks back at me. “If he comes, then you know he’s at least curious.”

  Garret snickers but I’m too confused to find humor in subtle innuendos.

  I chew the pink lipstick off my bottom lip. A week with Drew in New York sounds like a hell of a lot of fun. Honestly, the two of us could have fun in a cardboard box. “I’ll think about it.”

  ***

  Okay, I thought about it. How can I say no to bonus rounds of mind-blowing sex?

  When I get home that evening, there’s a large envelope on my doorstep. It has a London return address. I rip open the stiff cardboard and pull out a manila envelope with a handwritten note clipped to the front.

  I tried to fit inside the package, but I’m too big. So instead, here are the photographs you asked for, as promised.

  I’ve been thinking about you, sexy . . . and it’s not PG.

  Drew

  You gotta hand it to him. The man knows how to make me blush. And now I know that inviting him to New York is the right move. I push my way into the house and tear into the envelope. Drew packed three black and white photographs, each separated by thin sheets of tissue. I gasp when I see the first. It’s a print of the French graffiti wall that I saw in his hallway. The second is a shot of an old roller coaster in Germany, another photograph he caught me staring at several times in his hallway. It would always catch my eye, and I’d stare at it thinking of how being with Drew was like riding a thrilling roller coaster. And finally, the last is a photograph I haven’t seen before. It’s a shot of Cornwall Terrace, the place we first met. My heart leaps at the sight of it and I feel my cheeks turn as pink as the rosy hue of the picture. It’s the only artistic photograph I’ve seen from him that’s not black and white and I’d like to think that means something.

  I want to thank him but it’s too late to call now, so I wait until the morning. Like the moment my eyes open. But it’s already the afternoon for him. My fingers tremble as I hit the button to dial.

  Ring. Ring.

  “Hey,” he says, sounding surprised.

  “I got the photographs you sent last night. Thank you for sending them so soon. They’re gorgeous.”

  “Good. I’m glad they got there safely,” he says, still a little tense. It’s weird compared to our conversation yesterday. I fidget with the sheet between my fingers, even more nervous now.

  “Yeah, they would be perfect for my dad’s apartment. I’m almost tempted to take these to New York with me next week. But, I want to keep them for myself.” That wasn’t the best segue, but okay.

  “Oh, you’re going to New York,” he asks with an overly curious but cool tone.

  “Yeah, I’m meeting with a few potential investors.”

  “Hey, that’s great. I’m sure one of them will work out.”

  I don’t know if one of them will work out or if Drew and I will “work out,” whatever that means, but I have to at least go and find out.

  “You wouldn’t want to join me for a few days while I’m there, would you?” I ask, almost spitting out the words, then hold my breath.

  There, I asked. The ball’s in his court now.

  “You want me to come see you in the States?”

  My heart is pounding so loud that I can’t tell if he seems excited or perplexed. “Sure, if you want. I have my dad’s place to myself, so you can stay with me. The weekends are super quiet this time of year. Everyone’s in the Hamptons. So it could be fun.”

  “Kate, I think you and I could have fun anywhere.” His words bring the biggest, goofiest grin to my face. “And yeah, I’d love to join you in New York.”

  “Really?” I say, not hiding my giddiness very well.

  He chuckles. “Yeah, I can’t wait. See you next week.”

  ***

  The week leading up to my trip could not have dragged on any slower than if I had stayed in bed all day staring at my ceiling. But I’m here now and Drew gets in tomorrow night. I can’t believe that I finally get to feel his hands on my body again. Damn, I’ve missed the way I feel when I’m with him. I dance around the apartment, thinking about the kind of trouble we’ll get into. Which can be a good thing or a bad thing. But like my upcoming investor meetings, I’m trying to stay positive. Part of me hopes this trip will be cut and dry and we can get each other out of our systems. And the other part knows that it might not be that simple.

  After I tweet that I’m back in New York, I get a message from an old friend, Liv Olsen, inviting me to catch up over dinner tonight. I have no plans other than to sit on my hands and wait for my man to show up, so I meet up with her.

  She looks totally different than I remember. Back in L.A. she had bright highlights in her dark brown hair, super tan skin, and the girl could strut in stilettoes like no one else. Tonight, she’s dres
sed in pointed toe pumps, wide-leg pants, hair up in an American Ballet Theater bun, and dark, wide-framed glasses. I’ve never seen her without her signature tan in the winter, let alone in the middle of summer.

  “Kate, so good to see you!” she calls as I approach our table at the restaurant. She kisses my cheek but doesn’t offer a hug.

  “You too,” I say, “I almost didn’t recognize you.”

  “I know, right? New York is a whole new world.”

  “It really is. I just got here and already I know it’s going to break my heart to leave.”

  “Then don’t leave. New York is the best!”

  “I’ll admit. This city can be inspiring,” I say, considering the idea for oh . . . ten seconds. I have enough going on without adding moving coasts.

  “You working on a new collection?” she asks, setting her napkin across her lap.

  “Always. What about you?”

  “Actually, I’m running a gallery in Chelsea. I absolutely love it! You should totally come by and check it out while you’re here.”

  “I’d love to,” I say, flipping my menu open. Then I have a genius idea. At least it sounds genius in my head. “Are you looking for new artists by chance?”

  “Of course. The gallery-goers are always interested in a new perspective. Why?” Liv tilts her head and my idea sends ripples of excitement through me. See! New York is inspiring.

  “I have a friend who’s a very talented photographer. He actually studied with Ferguson Burke.”

  “Really . . .” She looks almost as interested in him as I am. “Who is it? Have I heard of him?”

  “Probably not. He goes by Drew Blake. He works as a fashion photographer but his art is stunning and I’m always moved by it. Any chance you could take a look? He’s really amazing.”

  She gives me a funny look and I know right away she’s going to respond with a big fat no. “I get this request from a lot of people and I almost always say no. But,” she says it like it’s a big but, “since I totally respect your taste in art and he studied with Ferguson Burke, I would be happy to take a look.”

  My smile stretches wide. “Really? That would be brilliant. Drew will actually be in town tomorrow night.”

  “Oh, great, I’d love to meet him. Why don’t you two come to the gallery on Friday afternoon?” She hands me her business card and I could not be more thrilled. I just hope Drew feels the same way. I really wish he would put his art out for the world to see. I don’t understand why he doesn’t. Besides, giving him more reasons to visit New York again isn’t the worst idea. Unless it is . . .

  I text Drew.

  KATE: Do you have a portfolio of your art? I’d love to pick a few pieces for my dad’s place while you’re here.

  DREW: Anything for my girl. See you tomorrow.

  I practically melt on the floor when I read his text. He’s still calling me his girl.

  ***

  I expect him to be at my place around five o’clock. I leave the key to the apartment downstairs at the front desk for him when I head out for my first meeting. Unfortunately, I leave the meeting empty-handed, but I’ve still got two more and nothing is going to keep me down when I know Drew will be going down on me later.

  While I wait, I spend the afternoon straightening the apartment, lighting romantic, scented candles, making sure there are plenty of fresh sheets—we’ll be getting them very dirty over the next week. I finish off with a warm bath, getting my body smooth for him, just like the night I went to his apartment in the trench coat and lingerie. I slip on a pair of white stockings and a strappy, white lingerie set.

  My stomach jumps when I get the text that he’s on his way. I put on some sultry music and lie on the white sheets on my stomach with my feet crossed in the air behind me, just the way he likes it.

  The front door opens and I hear his suitcase roll behind his footsteps. They draw nearer to the bedroom and I know he’s close enough to hear the music.

  “Kate,” he calls out like we’re playing hide and seek.

  I giggle like a schoolgirl, totally giving myself away. The sound of his boots against the wood floor echoes down the hall and my heart thumps harder and harder in my chest with every step. Finally, he’s standing in the doorway, looking even more amazing than when I left him. The corner of his mouth turns up in that adorable smirk.

  “Welcome to New York,” I say.

  His smile curves into that heart-stopping grin I remember so well.

  Twelve

  DREW

  I’ve forgotten English. Kate’s wearing stockings. I’m instantly hard at the sight of her, and all I want to do is get my hands on her delicious body. But I rein it in, planting my feet and resisting the urge to run and tackle her.

  Instead, I whistle a catcall. “He-lloo.”

  Kate looks so sexy-cute lying on her stomach. She knows it drives me insane when she lies like that. The girl gets me.

  She climbs off the bed, revealing white stringy lingerie that I’ve never seen before. My eyes grow wide . . . and they’re not the only thing growing. I walk toward her, checking out her smooth, slender legs, the V above her thighs, that stomach. Somehow, she looks and smells even more delicious than before. I want her so badly and now she’s all mine.

  “Hi, there,” she says, batting her long lashes as she looks up at me.

  I wrap my hand around her waist and pull her in, gazing into those sultry green eyes. I want to sink into them and take a swim. Kate rises on her toes, her mouth barely touching mine at first, as if our lips are greeting each other with a polite hello. But this is about as polite as it will get. Our mouths remember one another and I increase the pressure, kissing her with every ounce of yearning I’ve felt for her since she left.

  Kate strips off my jacket, pulling at my T-shirt until it’s over my head. She wastes no time before she grabs my belt, hungry for what’s inside.

  I slide my hands down to her soft, supple ass and squeeze. If I had to touch her bottom all day every day I’d be a happy man. “I missed you so much,” I whisper into her ear, licking the tip of her earlobe.

  “I missed you too.” Her voice is airy, and I feel her body melt into mine. This is one of my favorites, the moment she surrenders completely.

  With our lips entangled, I walk her backward to the bed until she’s on her back, legs open. I climb over her and she pulls me in until my body is flush with hers as we kiss. She moans that sweet, tantalizing moan. “I’ve missed your body on mine,” she says.

  So much of the way she feels is familiar, and kissing her, touching her is like riding a bike. But something happens that’s never happened before. She opens her eyes as I’m kissing her and holds my gaze. I start counting every fleck of jade and gold, tangling my fingers in her dark strands of hair.

  “Make love to me, Drew,” she whispers.

  I don’t make love to women. Not the way that she’s asking me to. But for her and with her, it’ll be effortless. I pepper kisses along her jaw and down her neck as I breathe her in. She wraps her legs around me and I slide my tongue across her collarbone and peel her lingerie strap off her shoulder. My cock is rock hard. It started the moment that plane landed an hour ago. I’ve had to tell it to calm down, but now it’s begging me to plunge into her, getting that dose of a much-needed drug. I take a deep breath, tugging her lacy outfit down her silky body until I see her. All of her.

  She bites her bottom lip, smiling, then she opens for me, undulating her hips, begging me to come inside. I tease her wet pussy with the tip of my cock. How is she always so fucking wet? I can’t take it. I tilt my head back, trying to focus. We haven’t done anything yet and already I feel like my body’s about to explode.

  Kate runs her dainty fingers up and down my shaft. I missed those hands. Finally, I slide in and I swear angels begin singing overhead. A shiver runs from my balls and up my spine, and I rock slowly into her, going as deep as I can.

  As close as we are right now, I want to get closer. I kiss her, trailing my h
ands all over her body. “Kate,” I whisper because everything I feel is captured in the sound of her name. She flutters her eyes open again and we smile as our tongues play, like two kids in love and my heart races in the heat of the moment.

  Oh, my God. Am I in love with her? Is she in love with me? Is that why we can’t stay away from each other? The thought’s been floating in and out of my mind, especially since she left. I keep telling myself that I can’t be. Love complicates things even more than sex. But in this moment, I don’t care about the consequences. I don’t care about anything except for this.

  And for the next two hours, Kate and I are in our own little world under those sheets. My body is like a machine. I keep going and going. And she keeps coming and coming. Somehow, with Kate, I can easily keep it up, but her legs are trembling so much. She needs a break. I roll next to her, both of us panting, covered in sweat. It’s by far the best welcome I’ve ever had. I look over at her, trying not to think too much and just be.

  Kate lies on her back, staring at the ceiling like she’s stargazing. “That was the best sex we’ve ever had. Right?” She turns to me.

  I nod, thinking that it was the best sex I’ve ever had, but I don’t want to say that until I know what it really means. “Definitely.”

  She turns on her side, propping her head up with her hand. “I was a little nervous that it might not be the same as before.”

  “Actually, I was too,” I say, my head flooding with ridiculous amounts of hormones and getting a little cloudy. “But there was only one way to find out for sure.”

  She knits her brow. “Find out what for sure?”

  “That it wasn’t just London.”

  Kate smiles and lays her head on my chest.

  We can’t keep our hands off or any of our best parts away from each other all night. But even after the long flight and several incredible sessions with the sexiest woman alive, I am very well rested and totally satisfied.

  ***

  The next morning, she walks into the room carrying a couple of paper coffee cups and a brown bag.

  “I got you a bagel sandwich,” she says, handing me a paper-covered meal. I lean up on my elbows, the sheets sliding down to my waist. She greets me with a kiss, her gaze flicking to my abs, then dives into her sandwich.