U.K. Boxing Day: An Older Man Younger Woman Romance (A Man Who Knows What He Wants Book 91)

by Flora Ferrari

  There she is standing next to her wheeled luggage, the thing looking way too big for her small stature.

  She’s got on jeans, trainers, and a jacket.

  Perfect. It’s just what she needs for what I have planned for today.

  I do my best not to let my eyes wander down her body, but I fail miserably. Even with the oversized coat on she’s still got the most beautiful curves I’ve ever seen.

  My eyes rake back up her body until I find those crystal clear blue eyes of hers. I grit my teeth and hear myself breathing as I feel my pulse beating in the side of my neck as my cock thumps against the inside of my jeans.

  A long moment passes as our eyes just stay locked on the others.

  “I’m not sure how to check out,” she finally says.

  “You have the guy’s number?”

  She nods.

  I extend my hand and she reaches into her pocket and places her phone in my palm. The thing has a pinkish case and is tiny, making me look almost cartoonish holding it, but I don’t care.

  “What’s his name stored under?”

  She swallows hard. “Oliver’s bout,” she says. Damn, even the way she chooses to remember it is in relation to me…us.

  “What’s his name?”

  “Keith,” she says.

  “You’ve got everything?” I ask and she nods.

  “Good,”

  I take advantage of my “reach,” measured with your arms spread out at shoulder height, one of the longest in the sport of boxing, extending my arm without moving my feet, as I grab the handle of her bag and pull it towards me into the hallway, my arm coming dangerously close to brushing against her.

  I motion for her to step outside into the hallway, as I wrap my wrist around and pull the key from the door and chuck it inside the room, closing the door and making sure it locks.

  I hit the call button and we walk out through the hallway.

  As we move together, side by side, I rip Keith a new asshole for the way he puts women in dangerous situations, letting him know I’ll be back in a week to make sure he’s made the proper changes, especially a new, thick, steel-grade door, and a buzzer to the front gate so any jerk off the street can’t just gain access to the actual apartment door.

  When he tries to reply with something about calling him at this hour I tell him I can easily come by now so we can talk it over face-to-face if that’s what he prefers.

  He backpedals, as is standard with phone and Internet “warriors,” as they’re known. As expected he’s not a real man.

  But I don’t have time for him anymore. I end the call and focus all my attention on her, the woman who does deserve a real man.

  Me.

  And that’s exactly what I’m going to show her today.

  I help her into the Rolls Royce I’ve rented for the day, and put her bag in the boot.

  I come back around and get in next to her.

  There’s something about her there, next to me. There’s no question she belongs, that we belong together.

  She’s silent as am I. I can see she’s nervous and for the first time in my life I am slightly too.

  But not nervous in the traditional way…nervous in anticipation, because I know all the things we’re going to do from here on out.

  And I’m not just talking about today.

  I’m talking about forever.

  And forever starts now.

  CHAPTER 6

  Ella

  “Thanks for coming to get me,” I say after a full minute goes by.

  “You’re welcome, but there’s no need to thank me. It’s my responsibility as a man to keep you safe.”

  “That place wasn’t that bad.”

  “Have you seen the movie Taken?”

  “With Liam Neeson?”

  “That’s the one…the one where his daughter is taken by the Albanians.”

  “Right.”

  “Well, I’ll tell you this now since you’re out of there and you’re not going back, but that area is one of the dodgiest areas in all of London right now. If you go on hoodmaps.com right now and search it, it’s literally labeled ‘knife crime central.’ And not only that, that area is pretty much Albania West.” He pauses, gritting his teeth again, angry that I had to endure a night there. “You’ve heard of the Hellbanianz?”

  “The Albanian mafia in London? Aren’t they in Barking?”

  “And where you were.”

  “But you were in Tottenham last night.”

  “Different part…less than two miles apart, but two totally separate worlds. You know how it is here,” he says.

  “Things have changed so much since I was last here then.”

  “Some things…and some have stayed the same,” he says, turning to look at me with those hooded eyes of his. He finally looks back towards the front, as if to make sure the driver is going the right way. He really is concerned about me…a lot. “Plus today’s Boxing Day. There will be a full slate of Premier League games on the telly, and plenty of drunk guys showing up at the stadiums, like the one you were staying right next to. And if the Tottenham Hot Spurs don’t win it could get ugly quick.”

  “It sounds like you’ve already visualized the entire day before it happens.”

  “I’ve visualized a lot more than just the day,” he says turning back to me, and this time his look tells me he’s not looking away anytime soon. His gaze goes from my eyes to my lips and back again.

  I feel my panties moisten and I don’t know what to say, nor do I feel like talking now anyways. All I want is the same thing he wants too…his lips on mine.

  The suspense is killing me and I feel my mouth opening, but not in a sexy way…in a I’m falling into a trance staring at this masculine man kind of way and I could start drooling if I’m not careful.

  “How was the club?”

  “It would have been perfect if you were there,” flows from his lips immediately.

  I feel my cheeks heat and a bead of sweat run down the valley in-between my breasts.

  I unzip my coat. “And you were mentioning something about my brother?”

  “I just can’t believe he let you stay in that flat.”

  “He didn’t know. It was my idea anyways.”

  “To stay in that place?”

  “To come to the fight,” I say, without thinking, confessing the truth about what’s really going on inside my plans right now.

  “He’s flying out this morning,” he says.

  “I know. I’m a big girl. I can take care of myself without him.”

  “You’re tough, you’ve already proven that,” he says. “But you don’t need to be a hero, you need to be safe.”

  “And safe is with you.”

  “Yes,” he says with the same convection as if someone asked him what two plus two is.

  I’m not sure what to say so I backtrack. “Tell me about the club.”

  “It’s called The Cause, because that’s what they have…a cause.”

  “They’re socially conscious?”

  He nods.

  “I like that.”

  “The two founders use the venue to fundraise for Mind in Haringey, Calm and Help Musicians UK. They’re music industry veterans who put a lot of money back into the community, and their sister place next door called Grow has a garden. They use the money from the drinks they sell at night to staff the garden and keep it open in the day so artists and musicians have a place to hang out and come together as a community.”

  “I love that,” I say. For some strange reason my mind jumps to something my friend, Leah a dating coach back home, once told me. She said some of her best clients are wonderful men, but they’re too fact based and analytical and as a result they have trouble connecting with women.

  When a woman notices something, or comments on something, these “right-brained” men will take that snippet and grasp onto it in a linear fashion, trying to go from point A to point B in a straight line instead of feeling his dates words and expanding on how t
hose feelings relate to her or more importantly them.

  As someone who has a tendency to live in her own mind, it hits me that I’m actually pretty similar to those guys at times, especially for a woman.

  I bite down on my bottom lip and instead of saying, “that’s great,” a better idea, inspired by my friend, quickly takes hold.

  “What do you think about that, and by that I mean giving back to the community, especially seeing that you’re not married and don’t have kids so a lot of community type things might not be so beneficial to someone like you…not to mention, and I don’t want to sound crass, but you can likely afford to cherry-pick the best parts out of life and you don’t really need to worry yourself with the other eight million people in the city.”

  He pauses, taking in the worlds’ longest sentence I just threw at him, at barely past six in the morning on a holiday no less.

  “You should be a reporter because that might be the best, most well-thought out question I’ve ever got. As a boxer, and someone who spends a lot of their time training in solitude, it’s easy to think that I, or we boxers, might not care so much about other people. But in my case nothing could be further from the truth. I strongly believe a rising tide lifts all ships, not to mention I wouldn’t be where I am today without the support of the entire city, across all the different types of people who’ve supported me in so many ways. And of course there’s another reason which is even more important…more selfish.”

  He lets it hang and I take it that that’s my cue that he’s answered the question as far as he’s going to, but if he just complimented me on my “reporting” skills then darn it, I’m not going to back off now.

  “What might those selfish reasons be?”

  He says nothing, just staring deep into my eyes making me think I might have crossed the line.

  “One day,” he says, leaning in closer. I can feel the heat of his body on mine, the feeling of his Navy blue pea coat pressed against my jacket.

  The way he towers above me, especially when we’re sitting down, not that I have long legs or anything, but just being in this smallish space, the back of a nice car, with him just compresses everything even more. He feels larger than life as his head keeps moving closer and closer and I feel my lips slowly relax and a warmth in my chest as I feel his kiss nearing.

  “Soon, I’m going to have children. And family is always first, but community is second. Real estate agents don’t sell homes, they sell neighborhoods, and I want my kids, and every kid, to have the chance to grow up and play, safely, in the best communities they can. So the socially conscious business person always gets my business, even though last night I wanted to leave so I could be with someone else.”

  My hand is literally shaking and I make a mental note to use the same hand to high five Leah when I get back for teaching me a little something about dealing with the opposite sex, not that frantically looking for the button that brings the window up between the driver and passengers so we can have some hot, sweaty, sex in the back of this car on a cold morning isn’t the first thing on my mind.

  The windows are fogged, covered in almost as much moisture as my panties as his head comes closer and closer still.

  “Primrose Hill, sir!” the driver announces way too cheerily as if he’s delighted in wedging himself in-between our moment.

  A deep chest growl escapes Oliver as his head turns toward the front and he bares his teeth at the driver like a cornered animal ready to strike out.

  My hand finds his arm, trying to calm him, and I watch the anger on his face recede as he turns back toward me.

  He reaches across me, without taking his eyes from me, and opens my door.

  I turn to that side to get out, scooting my bottom across the plush leather. By the time my feet have reached the pavement he’s already on the other side of car offering me his hand.

  “Isn’t that the chauffeur’s job?” I ask.

  “He’s already been instructed,” he says.

  “Instructed?”

  “That nobody touches my woman, but me.”

  CHAPTER 7

  Oliver

  The temperature is barely above freezing, but my skin feels like it’s practically on fire.

  Two layers, a long sleeve and a T-shirt below, are going to be more than enough. You could say it’s because I’m a big guy, but that’s not it.

  Her. She’s the reason.

  The cool, crisp air hits me in the face, but inside I’m burning up.

  I grab a blanket out of the boot of the car, taking off my pea coat and tossing it inside, and take her hand and we walk Primrose Hill, moving towards a high spot.

  It’s completely empty, and serene, and that’s exactly what I want.

  After laying the blanket down on the frost-covered grass I sit down and pat on my lap.

  “You want me to sit on your lap?”

  “I don’t want you to get wet after the moisture soaks through the blanket in a couple of minutes.”

  “But if I sit on your lap that’s even more weight, and you’ll be soaked in a minute.

  “Your weightless, I won’t even notice.”

  I see a smile take over her face and she immediately gives up the idea of carrying on with this conversation.

  Good.

  I guide her down, trying to put her in a spot where my raging erection doesn’t press against her and frighten the hell out of her, but that’s easier said than done.

  I couldn’t stand up if I wanted to now, my rod is so hard I’m literally stuck right where I’m at, which is a good thing because I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else in the world, not when I’ve got her right her with me, on me, I think to myself as I wrap my arms around her.

  Her head turns back slightly and she smiles before looking forward again.

  It gives me a chance to lean in and quietly inhale the scent of her hair. I pick up the floral scents of her shampoo, but much more importantly I pick up her natural pheromones causing my cock to twitch. I can’t help but breath in deep.

  “Are you smelling me?” she asks.

  “Have you smelled yourself lately?”

  “No. How am I?”

  “If I smelled as incredible as you I’d just lie at home curled up into a ball sniffing myself like a dog.”

  “Gross!” she says turning so she can slap me on the arm.

  “There it is,” I say, and she turns her body forward again.

  “Wow, the sunrise is amazing.”

  “That’s not what I was talking about.”

  She slowly turns back towards me and my desire to taste her lips almost overwhelms me.

  “What were you talking about then?”

  “You,” I say tapping her on the nose.

  Out of nowhere a jogger goes running by and our eyes track him, our moment interrupted a second time. I’m losing my patience with these guys who have a knack for making their presence known at the most inopportune times.

  “You must run a lot for your training.”

  “That right there,” I say, my eyes on the jogger, “is me over three hundred mornings a year.”

  “Doesn’t it get old?”

  “No, because I do it mostly in solitude, outside the city at a training camp. I see deer and other wild animals at these early hours. It’s peaceful, and I call upon that peace when I’m in the ring where things are anything but peaceful.”

  “Sort of a yin and yang?”

  “Exactly.”

  “But you’ve never found your counterbalance in real life?”

  “I don’t think you find it. I think it finds you.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “It’s like when you can’t find something. If you look for it you search in all the usual places, but if you just go about your day you’re bound to retrace your steps and you often find what you’re looking for that much faster, and without actually looking for it.”

  “I guess I never thought of it that way.”

  “Here’s an example,”
I say, ready to make my intentions perfectly clear. I’m done waiting, the inner conflict of being her brother’s best friend…or of her being possibly too young, are both gone.

  How could she be too young? She was a woman now, my woman, and I was ready to let it be known.