Published in 2016 by Black Lace publishing, London, UK.
Text copyright © 2016 Loretta Steel
The moral right of Loretta Steel to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book, or portions thereof in any form. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored, in any form or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical without the express written permission of the author.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, incidents and dialogues are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
THE MAN I NEED
PART ONE
EZRA
The day began like any other. Warm sun beat down on me from a clear blue sky above. Cloudless. Seamless. Everything was going well for once. I’d left Madison in the cafe on the corner, tea in hand, sat gazing wistfully across the street to where she expected her boyfriend, Nate to arrive at any moment. The skirt I wore whipped my tanned legs as my feet slapped the pavement, walking hurriedly along Bellevue Avenue and down past the park, turning the corner to where my apartment stood eight stories high, facing the busy street.
I looked up from the ground where a fallen leaf skittered across the pavement in the warm breeze and saw him.
He had dark hair, cut roughly and spiked with gel. His jade green eyes caught mine and a flush of heat rose to my cheeks as I bent down to retrieve the lipstick I’d dropped to the floor in my careless attempt to remove the keys from my clutch bag before heading towards the flat I’d occupied for the past five months.
He loitered in the center of the pavement for a few seconds, dodging me as I stepped forwards, his eyes never leaving mine as I passed him and made my way towards the tall white and grey stone built building. The air-conditioning cooled the heat from my face, and I leaned back against the wall between the lifts to catch my breath. I felt winded and totally infatuated all at the same time by the handsome man with actor looks. His charismatic eyes held a penetrating gaze that seemed to be at once undressing me, whilst considering whether or not I had a boyfriend.
I didn’t.
Upstairs, slipping off my flats and replacing them with a pair of kitten heels, I swapped my work attire for a short low cut cotton dress, preparing for a quiet afternoon alone. When the doorbell chimed, I was surprised to find the enigmatic stranger stood in front of me, leaning one hand on the doorframe, the other in his trouser pocket. Film star pose, I thought.
‘Hi,’ he said. ‘Blake,’ holding out his hand for me to shake.
‘Ezra.
He glanced over my shoulder and stepped inside.
‘Nice place you got here.’
His forthright manner should’ve concerned me, but his confidence only made me sizzle with excitement. The last man I’d had in my home left with his belongings and a weak apology. ‘It’s me. I fell for her, I couldn’t help it,’ said Joe.
Joe’s secretary was of similar stature to me. Tall and long-legged. But unlike my blonde hair and blue doe eyes, she was a hard-looking brunette with a killer smile, white teeth and apparently enjoyed giving him head beneath the desk of his office when he was away on business. He left me for her, but they split up several weeks later. I should have been upset, angry even, but I didn’t care. His loss, I thought, tossing away the last of his items; the things he felt he no longer needed to begin his new life with her.
I realized I’d been daydreaming when Blake’s cologne filled the air as he shuffled past me, glancing around the apartment, taking in the sorry state of the place I had no time to clean. His aftershave smelt rich and powerful. He wore a white T-shirt over faded blue jeans. His upper body was huge, muscular, and when my eyes landed on his feet I noticed his new trainers were big too. You know what they say about men with big feet? My cheeks flushed at the thought of what might be under those jeans.
‘I’ve just moved in, down the hall,’ he said, tearing my thoughts away from his bulge.
‘How are you finding it living here?’
‘It’s a nice place. And close to amenities.’ he laughed.
‘I was about to go for a walk …’
‘Sorry, I won’t keep you. I was wondering if you had any washing powder. I’m all out.’
‘I’ll fill you a cup.’
I left him stood in the open plan living room, returning with a cup-full of Fresh&Easy. By the way he held my gaze - long enough to unsettle me but not long enough to intimidate me - I wondered if that expression fit him. Was he coming across as a bit fresh? He was certainly easy on the eye, or was I just paranoid? But instead of putting me off it seemed to attract my attention that little bit more.
‘Are you new to this part of London?’ I said, unable to ignore his distinct cockney lilt.
People around here didn’t sound like that.
‘North London, yes. I’m renting out a property down South to cover it.’
‘To live here?’
‘Why not?’
‘It’s just …’
‘It’s okay, I know what you’re thinking. Cockney lad in a posh area. What the hell is he doing here?’
He was more cocky than cockney I thought, making my way into the kitchen diner, hiding my blushing cheeks behind the cupboard door to grab some fabric softener.
He was hot. A little arrogant maybe, but that seemed to arouse something in me I couldn’t explain. Only …
I shook my head. Don’t think like that. I practiced the mantra I learned in counseling. Running the words through my head until I heard him cough.
You are not a product of your past …
‘Well … I …’ I was suddenly lost for words.
‘Your walk?’
‘Yes.’
Prick, I thought.
I wondered how he could reduce me to such a rambling mess. I was in too much of a hurry to get the softener out of the cupboard that I tripped and fell and dropped the bottle on the floor. The liquid spilled over the linoleum. I poured some into a cup and said, ‘here,’ more sharply than I’d intended, pressing the cup into his hand.
A brief pause passed between us before he broke the silence.
‘I’ve got work in two hours. I’d better get the washing on.’
He did his own laundry? He couldn’t have a girlfriend then.
He came across as the perfect gentleman, but there was something else in his eyes. Something that reminded me of a wounded soldier. As if he could read my thoughts he chimed in and told me what he did.
‘Ex-army,’ he said. That explained it.
‘Blow me away, I was right.’
He glanced at me with curiosity.
‘I mean … I guessed you might be.’
I’d been expecting him to say that he was a model or a porn star or something along those lines, but when he said he now worked as an investigator, the image of a set of handcuffs blurred my vision and I was instantly sent back in time to a place I didn’t want to return to.
‘Military police?’
He nodded.
‘Cool,’ I said, hoping he couldn’t sense the downturned note reflected in my voice. I’d almost forgotten what I was supposed to be doing when he said, ‘next time you go for a walk give me a shout. I’m in apartment eleven.’
‘Sure.’ I didn’t intend to take him up on his offer.
‘I’ll bring the cups back later.’
‘Keep them.’
&nbs
p; He nodded, unsure.
I didn’t want to see those cups again, or him for that matter. The last thing I wanted was a fling with a copper, especially one who’d trained in the army.
BLAKE
Ezra looked like the kind of woman I could fall in love with. Honey blonde hair, smooth skin, bright blue eyes. When she dropped her lipstick and bent over to retrieve it from the floor I took a glance at her arse and my cock grew hard.
When I knocked on the door I’d seen her enter, I saw that she’d got changed into a tight fitted cotton dress, accentuating her cleavage. She looked feminine and sparky at the same time.
The way her gaze held mine for those few seconds, asking me if I really did do my own laundry, I guessed she’d never been with a man who knew how to take care of himself.
I’m not vain, you understand. I just got the impression she wasn’t used to being put first. Her needs had never been met by a man before. That’s just how I took her. And take her I did, under my wing, like the gentleman I am. I had no idea what I was letting myself in for. But then again, neither did she.
EZRA
The next day, I’d left work around 5:00pm, leaving the office block and my professional head behind me. I was looking forward to curling up on the sofa with a good book. Something romantic. I’d been working as an interior designer for the boutique several months now, leaving a career in advertising behind me, determined to make something of myself. I needed the change, and the course took only six months to complete. I’d taken the opportunity to contact Sandy, via the ad on the online temping agency, thinking I’d be able to work my way up. And I had. Only a few weeks in I’d been upgraded from an assistant designer to the client outreach team, meaning I spent less time in the shop and more time in people’s homes. It was perfect.
Next on my list was to apply for the position of assistant manager, once Jess took maternity leave. In the mean time, though, I was happy to continue booking top-end clients in for their pre-arranged interior design workshops and home-making service. They’d spend thousands of pounds on beautifully woven fabric throws for their expensive furniture, and deciding on which light shade would match the cushions they’d had designed specifically for their requirements. I couldn’t tire of the opportunity my career afforded me to nosy around other’s houses. It was the best part of the job.
Later, returning home from a busy day of endless paperwork in the office - my least favorite part of the job - I made my way along Bridge street, the echo of my heels clip-clopping along the wet pavement beneath a bleak grey sky. I thought how sad it was that the earlier sun had all but become a memory as the wind pulled the skirt from my legs. I had to hold the fabric in my clenched fist to stop it from riding up, offering anyone nearby a view of my black lace thong. I didn’t notice the note on the floor until I bent down to collect the post from the mat. It read:
Ezra, thought you might like them back. Come over for a drink. Blake.
I collected the gleaming cups from the floor, hidden from view in the small nook where a window meets the skylight above, casting a faint blue hue across the pale surface of the tiled floor beside the front door. I wasn’t expecting to hear from Blake so soon, but after the day I’d had a drink was preferable to a lone readathon. I rushed inside to change out of my work slacks and blouse before making my way down the hall with my heart thudding against my ribs. I hadn’t spent time alone with a man for almost six months.
As I neared his door I imagined pulling him close, holding onto his ripped body. His toned arms gripping mine as he bent down to kiss me. My cheeks were hot and my breath came in ragged gasps as I tried to shake the naughty thoughts away and knocked on the door.
I heard footsteps coming down the hall before his shadow appeared through the mottled glass in the door. A large black fuzzy image which didn’t seem to suit his jokey attitude in the slightest appeared. He opened the door wearing a grin which accentuated his angular jawline and perfectly trimmed teeth. Oh, how I’d have loved to wind my tongue over them, I thought, stepping into the entranceway. I couldn’t help it, he was fit and appeared to be single. He was the kind of man I’d normally steer well clear of but beneath his large ego, I saw a sensitive, quiet man. I just had no idea then what had caused him to become the man he was. If I had, would I have run for the hills then?
He lead me down the hall and into the kitchen where two sparkling clean glasses had been placed beside a bottle of crisp white wine. A bowl of strawberries glazed with milk chocolate sat in the center of the smoked glass table.
‘I wasn’t expecting this,’ I said, seating myself down on a bar stool at the island counter.
His taste in decor was impressive. Cream and silver granite counter tops, stainless steel appliances, chrome handles, black and white walls. Light and dark. No shades of grey with him then, I thought, selecting a strawberry from the bowl and placing it between my teeth. I bit down hard, too hard, and a slather of the sweet pink juice dripped down my chin. I wiped it away quickly with a napkin he held out for me, embarrassed.
‘Mmm. Gorgeous.’
‘Thank you,’ he said.
‘I meant the …’
‘Strawberries. I know,’ he said, smiling.
I followed his form as he turned away to pour the wine.
‘Isn’t it a bit early?’
‘Not when you have a beautiful guest,’ he said.
I swear my skin grew hotter then.
He sat down beside me to examine my features.
‘You look anxious.’
His body language skills had already become annoying.
‘I’m not used to compliments.’
I immediately regretted my honesty. What was wrong with me?
He was right, I was nervous but only because he sent my pulse racing every time he looked at me. Despite his casual style, at least that day, he oozed masculine energy. I could almost smell the testosterone in the air.
‘Aren’t you used to being complimented?’
No, I wanted to tell him but pretended I hadn’t heard him. What would he think of me if I told him the truth? Men rarely had a chance to get close to me if they were nice. They had to be mean to get any attention, and then I’d fuck them and run.
He seemed intent on holding my interest in the conversation. ‘You’re a very pretty woman,’ he said. ‘And, thank you for the washing powder.’
He continued talking, but my eyes were drawn to his chest. The ripped muscles visible beneath his shirt sent ripples of heat down to my pussy. It was impossible to think straight let alone form a coherent sentence.
He noticed my eyes fall on the counter top behind him to where two newly purchased boxes of washing powder sat alongside a bottle of fabric conditioner. Had he just bought them or had they been there before? Had he invented an excuse to gain access to my apartment? And if so, for what reason?
You’re paranoid, I told myself.
‘Anything of interest?’ he said, sarcastically.
‘You’re neat, for a guy.’
‘Discipline,’ he said. The way he said the word almost made me choke on a piece of chocolate I’d just slid into my mouth. ‘Most army veterans develop OCD,’ he said.
‘Right.’
‘If we didn’t have everything neatly aligned in our dorms it would be thrown on the floor and we’d have to start again. Same went for ironing.’
I wondered why he no longer had a career in the forces. There was no visible sign of injury. Unless he was suffering from post-traumatic-stress-disorder, something I knew about only too well.
Images of Blake in uniform danced in front of my eyelids.
My imagination was getting the better of me and I tried to stay focused on the conversation, but my heart skipped in my chest wondering if his strict order traveled to the bedroom and if it did what kinds of things he enjoyed.
Skirting around the sexual tension palpable in the air between us, I watched him swallow the last strawberry before he stood and turned towards the living room. I follow
ed him out, still unsure why he’d invited me here if not to fuck me when he took a seat on one of the plush black leather sofas that separated the lounge from the dining area. A similar layout to the one I’d designed in my own.
‘What do you do for a living?’ he said.
‘Interior design.’
‘Oh, Feng Shui and all that?’
‘Not exactly, it’s more high-end design.’
I sounded like a snob, but he didn’t seem to notice. Or if he did, he didn’t say anything.
‘What do you think of this then?’ he said, hands splayed out to the room.
I couldn’t be honest with him, tell him what his lack of personal items suggested to me so I tried to stick to the truth without making my discomfort obvious.
‘You’re a man with particular tastes who enjoys order and routine.’
He nodded, accepting my analysis.
‘But do you like it?’
That was a trick question. I wondered what the consequences were for getting it wrong. I was burning with desire and my sexual prowess was getting the better of me.
‘Yes.’
The sofa squeaked beneath his weight as he leaned forwards to pour wine into a glass on the coffee table in front of us where a single large white candle flickered in its center. The candle holder too was more heavy than ornate in its black painted holder. In fact, as I glanced around the almost bare room I noticed that everything was square. Nothing in the room had a soft edge, except Blake, who seemed to enjoy entertaining guests as well as having a definite tenderness towards putting women first. He held the glass out to me, letting me take the first sip.
‘Lovely,’ I said.
That seemed to please him. Not that I cared what he liked because so far he didn’t seem at all interested in me as a woman. I was getting agitated, not sure if he had invited me here on the pretext of a friendly drink or if he genuinely wanted some female company with the hot blonde from down the hall: Moi.
He asked a lot of questions about my life but offered very little of his own. I was used to this. Men seemed to do this when they were battling with their conscience, which made me suspect that he had a girlfriend or perhaps a wife. Had he got this place in order to fulfill his fantasy of no-strings sex?
The Man I Need (The Man I Need #1) Page 1
