The Earl of London

by Louise Bay

  “You’re right. I was being defensive. I’m trying to figure you out too.” He owned his response and I respected that. He’d been honest with me. “But I think I like you. I don’t have enough people in my life who call me on my bullshit.” He shot me a grin and took a sip of his wine. “And, you know, it’s always nice to hear a woman tell me I’m charming.”

  “Yeah, I love being told how people think they like me. Let me know when you’ve made up your mind.” I grinned.

  His eyes flickered down to my mouth and back up. “I think I just did.”

  My pulse began to throb in my neck and my skin tightened. I rarely got flustered, and I couldn’t ever remember having such a physical reaction to a man. I blinked once and took a deep breath. “What I was trying to say was at the end of the day, I have people counting on me. Livelihoods that depend on the estate. That’s a responsibility that I can’t afford to be bored by.” That was the truth. “Every day is different and there’s always some kind of fresh disaster or problem that needs solving. But yeah, I can sometimes yearn for something more. I think the farm shop was part of that.” I’d not told anyone that. Why him?

  He pulled in a breath and held my gaze. “I get that. I totally get it. I guess it doesn’t matter if I’m travelling all over the world doing God knows what, you’re right—I can still get bored. No matter the size of my balance sheet, I’ve been feeling lately that something more is exactly what I need.”

  If I’d thought I was confused about Logan before, our conversation was just making it worse. Tonight, he wasn’t a corporate bad boy or a charming granny’s boy. He was still charming and a little flirtatious, but he seemed honest, almost vulnerable and far more interesting to me than he had been since I’d first met him. I couldn’t deny it any longer—I liked him. Even if my mind tried to deny it, my body betrayed me. I had a growing crush on the man sitting in front of me.

  Eight

  Logan

  I’d made up my mind. I liked this girl. More so every time we spoke. That first day when she was covered in mud and she’d taken it all in her stride and smiled so wide I almost couldn’t look away. Then when I saw her, sitting on the terrace with my grandmother—she seemed to embody an English summer, all lightness and sunshine. Everything I discovered about her made me want to know more.

  But the pull toward her was all so inexplicable, because it was 180 degrees from my normal M.O.

  She’d called me out on being condescending and even though I’d been a little taken off-guard at first, I found I liked her for it. Other than my grandmother, I couldn’t think who else I knew who would do that.

  “What?” she asked, and I realized I was staring at her.

  “Nothing. Just taking it all in.”

  “Taking what in?”

  “You.”

  She rolled her eyes, which made me want to pull her onto my knee and slide my hand up her skirt.

  What was happening to me? She wasn’t any more my type now than she’d been ten days ago when I’d first met her. In fact, she was probably less my type. I liked high-powered female executives who crawled across the room to earn my dick in their mouth. Not women who spent the day in Wellington boots and gave me shit across a restaurant table.

  Until now.

  She wasn’t impressed with my money, my status or the company I’d built from scratch. She saw all that for what it was.

  “I find people interesting. Is there anything wrong in that?”

  “You mean you find trying to figure out how to get women to sleep with you interesting.”

  I chuckled. “You think I’m trying to figure out how to get you to sleep with me?” She wasn’t wrong, and I admired how confident she was.

  “Are you?”

  “I like to understand what makes people tick—men and women,” I replied. “But yes, I suppose I am.”

  She grinned. “Men too? I didn’t have you down as—”

  “I’m not into men.” I looked her right in the eye. There were some things I didn’t joke about. “Not sexually. I’m saying I like to understand how men and women work, what motivates them, irritates them. I see a lot of the same kind of people, and I get used to being able to figure them out really easily. I guess I got a little lazy. I’ve made assumptions about you that I shouldn’t have.”

  “Yeah?” She paused and pulled her bottom lip between her teeth. “Well, maybe I did the same to you.”

  I grinned. I liked the thought of her wondering about me. Of her trying to work me out. “Right. Tell me what assumptions you made about me, and I’ll tell you if you’re right.”

  She laughed. “As if. You’ll just tell me what you believe I want to hear.”

  “That’s not who I am.”

  “Never?”

  “Right now, I can’t think of a situation when I would need to do that.”

  “You’re saying you don’t tell women what they want to hear so they’ll sleep with you?”

  I was definitely attracted to her, which I was still trying to figure out. And I definitely wanted her to want me to seduce her. There was nothing more flattering. But if she took the bait, would I close the deal?

  “You think I need to tell a woman what she wants to hear in order to sleep with her?” She clearly underestimated how many horny women there were in this city. I was handsome, successful, and kept myself in shape—I didn’t have to work for it.

  “I guess it depends on your appetite.” She glanced away, perhaps not ready to see that appetite reflected back at her. She was so bloody cute.

  I paused, waiting for her to look back at me. “Is that right?”

  She shrugged. “I’m sure it’s easy to find willing women, looking like you do. Up to a point.” She looked right at me and my heart began to thud against my rib cage. “Depends how often you like to…fuck.”

  A lot, baby. A hell of a lot. “I don’t have to try very hard,” I said, keeping things deliberately ambiguous.

  Who was I kidding? Of course I’d like to close the deal with this woman. I might have done business with her brother, and we might be neighbors, but I was rarely intrigued by a woman. If she was up for it, I’d definitely like to explore that. Explore her. See how those curves moved when they weren’t covered up–having a type meant I’d been indulging in the same body over and over for the last couple of years. Perhaps fucking Darcy would keep things interesting.

  She narrowed her eyes and I held her gaze, willing her to challenge me. I liked her spirit.

  But Ryder interrupted us as he came back to the table slicing through whatever that had been building between us. “Darcy, don’t hate me, but we have to go. There’s been a security alert at the airport and they’re requiring an early check-in.” He sighed. “I hate flying commercial.”

  “Really?” She looked devastated. “Since when did you start flying commercial?”

  “Trying to fly private into China is ridiculous. Come on, I’ll drop you off on the way.”

  She glanced at me, and for a moment my heart lifted in my chest. Was she going to stay with me? But her gaze didn’t fall on me, it went to the plate of pasta that had just been delivered.

  My seduction technique clearly needed some polishing up, but it was probably for the best. Going home for the weekend to see my grandmother might get difficult if something was to happen with Darcy. I had no idea if she’d have some kind of expectation of me beyond sex. And there was nothing to expect of me in that regard.

  “Stay and eat,” I suggested out of nowhere. “I can see you home.”

  “It’s just around the corner. I can see myself home.” Darcy glanced at Ryder and then back at me. “But I’ll stay and have dinner. No point in it going to waste.”

  “Good idea. I know how much you like your pasta,” Ryder said.

  “I’ll see you and Scarlett in a couple of weeks?” Darcy said.

  “Yes, we’re bringing the kids. We’ll have plenty of time then, more than just a rushed half dinner.”

  Darcy’s sho
ulders sank. “Okay,” she said slumping back into her seat. “Don’t miss your flight.”

  “Good to see you, Darcy, and Logan,” he said, looking at me. “Don’t let her walk home on her own.”

  “Absolutely on all counts,” I said and shook Ryder’s hand. “She’s safe with me.” That was a blatant lie. Thirty seconds ago, I’d been imagining his sister naked, her large breasts swaying as I thrust into her from behind. Shit. I swallowed. “I’ll make sure she gets home safely.” I nodded and tried to look serious.

  “You look a little flustered,” Darcy said when Ryder left. She picked up her fork and began to twist it in the strands of pasta.

  “Me? I don’t get flustered.” Thinking about a business colleague’s sister, naked and panting while shaking his hand, was as close as I’d ever gotten to flustered. I clearly needed to get laid. I should drop Darcy off and find a bar somewhere. Something to take this edge off.

  “So, you seem close with your grandmother. What’s that about?” she asked, then popped a forkful of spaghetti into her mouth.

  That was an easy way to shut down my imagining what was under her jumper, how much I’d like to peel off her jeans. “What do you mean? She’s my grandmother.”

  “But you seem close. She lives with you, or you with her. At the weekend, at least.” She sat back and narrowed her eyes, studying me as if she thought I might be a closet jewel thief.

  “We’ve always been close. We’re a small family, and I’m her only grandson. I like to look after her.”

  “Where are your parents?” she asked, slipping another forkful of pasta into her mouth.

  My family background was nothing I wanted to get into. “Wanna know my blood group?”

  She shrugged. “It’s called conversation—you’re not used to it?”

  I chuckled. “You’re just direct.” I didn’t talk with the women I fucked. There was no need. And I didn’t have women friends I took to dinner. I was unprepared for whatever it was we were doing.

  “I guess. I’m just interested. There’s a lot of things about you that add up, but living with your grandmother on weekends isn’t one of them.”

  “What doesn’t add up about it?”

  “Well, you’re a guy, who’s what, thirty-five?”

  I nodded. Jesus, was that just a guess?

  “You’re rich, good-looking…”

  Yes and yes.

  “Cocky. Clearly a player.”

  “Now that’s not very nice,” I said.

  “Do you prefer ‘confident’ and ‘likes women’?” she asked, grinning.

  I grinned. “Much better.” This girl.

  “But you don’t spend your weekends in London partying, entertaining, or enjoying the good life. You’re home having tea on the terrace.”

  “I can enjoy the good life while drinking tea on the terrace. Badsley’s gardens are beautiful.”

  She laughed. “But you get my point.”

  “Well, maybe I’m complicated.”

  “Maybe not.” She grinned at me and then beckoned over the waiter. “Can I have the bill, please?”

  Apparently, she was done. “How was your pasta?” I asked, wanting our conversation to continue.

  “Good,” she said, her eyes flashing—carefree and enthusiastic in a way I’d not seen before. “How was yours?”

  The waiter delivered the bill. “I’ll get—”

  “You absolutely will not.” She snatched it out of my reach. “This is my treat.”

  I grinned. It was something my grandmother would say. “Darcy,” I warned. “Let me pay. What would Ryder think if I let you?”

  “He’d think it was the twenty-first century and I could afford a bowl of pasta and a steak.” She handed over her credit card and punched her PIN into the machine.

  “Not many women have bought me dinner.”

  “Probably because you don’t deserve it,” she said, smiling at me as if she’d paid me a huge compliment. “Well, it’s been enlightening, neighbor, but I have a big day tomorrow, so I’m going to have to get my beauty sleep.”

  “Darcy, you picking up the bill is one, but there’s no way on Earth I’m going to let you walk home on your own.”

  “It’s just around the corner. I’ll be fine.”

  “I’ll just walk behind you, and that’s just going to look as if I’m following you—I could get arrested. You want that on your conscience?”

  She stood and pulled on her jacket. Her jeans clung to her hips in the most delicious way and her jumper that, although it wasn’t low-cut, made her breasts look bigger than I remembered. It took all my willpower to keep my eyes on her face.

  “You okay?” she asked as she pulled her bag off the back of her chair.

  “Yes,” I said, indicating I’d follow her out. How did she manage to look so sexy without any effort? I liked that she hadn’t dressed up. Sure, she’d been out with her brother, but still, she was confident enough that she didn’t have to put on a ton of makeup or wear a provocative outfit. Did she realize she was just innately sexy? Did she know that ninety percent of the men in this restaurant had imagined her naked? “Let’s go,” I said, blocking her, territorially. I could look at her without dribbling. Just. But I wasn’t sure it would be true for all the other guys in this place.

  We climbed the steps in single file and when we got to the top she paused, glanced at me over her shoulder and smiled a small, sweet, private smile that pulled all the breath from my lungs.

  “You’re beautiful,” I spluttered before I could help myself.

  She laughed and pulled up the collar of her jacket. “You make it sound like that’s a problem. I thought you were supposed to be this smooth player.”

  I chuckled. “You’re right. I’m an idiot. It’s just…”

  She ignored me and started up the road, so I strode after her until we walked next to each other, our hands burrowed into our pockets.

  “I don’t normally tell women.” That wasn’t true. I told women they were beautiful all the time, but in a way that was unthinking. As if I was talking about the weather or my commute. Not that they weren’t beautiful. I just didn’t focus on it. But with Darcy, it came out cack-handed because it was true. I knew it and I meant it. “Not women I’m friends with.”

  “We’re friends?” she asked. “Since when?” Her eyes danced mischievously under the overhead streetlights.

  I nudged her with my shoulder, trying to bite back a grin. “You’re hard work, Miss Westbury.”

  “I’m just immune to your player ways. That’s what growing up knee-deep in mud and climbing trees does to you.”

  “Inoculates you from being seduced by inappropriate men?”

  “This is you trying to seduce me?” She stopped walking, the streetlight behind her, catching on the stray strands of hair, lifted by the wind. She was more than beautiful. I stepped closer to her and she took a step back, so she was flat against the wall of one of Mayfair’s grand townhouses.

  Women I normally spent time with were glossy and primed, with perfect bodies and sharp minds. Darcy was like a fresh, floral breeze that had floated in and made every other woman I’d ever known seem like they were trying a bit too hard.

  I moved closer again and swept a strand of hair away from her face. Her breath hitched and my eyes dipped to her mouth, down to her full breasts and back up so our eyes locked. She was edible. I wanted to sink my teeth into that soft, milky-white skin, slip my hands under her jumper, and squeeze and pull at her nipples until she groaned and begged me for more.

  She reached up and trailed a finger along my jaw and I blinked, enjoying the warmth of her touch.

  I placed my hands on either side of her head. “I’m going to kiss you.”

  We both stared at each other, heat building between us as we savored the moment before I leaned forward and pressed my lips to hers. She smoothed her palms up my chest and I tried to savor the feeling each place our bodies joined. She tasted of summer meadows and rain, and I wanted to treat
her like glass and fuck her into next week at the same time.

  I broke off, uncertain about whether I could stop myself if I stayed as close for any longer.

  “Hey. I’m not done yet.” She beamed up at me.

  I growled, and pressed up against her, my hips pinning her to the wall, showing her who was in charge. “You don’t get to say if we’re done or not.”

  She braced her hands against my shoulders and tried to hold me back. “I don’t get a say?”

  Hearing her reaction to it, my comment sounded brash and unnecessary, but I was so used to running things in my sexual encounters. But there was nothing normal about what we were doing. Not for me. She was a neighbor. She knew my grandmother. I was likely to run into her all the time. She was definitely not someone I should be taking to bed.

  But that didn’t mean I couldn’t kiss her once more.

  She gasped as I ran my tongue over her lips and delved inside. She tasted perfect—warm and soft—but I couldn’t stop thinking about how her pussy would be sweeter. It was the last place I should be letting my mind wander to, but her fingers were tightening in my shirt and her short little breaths were pulling at my patience and hardening my cock.

  Before I gave in and pulled her legs around my waist and ground against her knickers, she broke off our kiss, and ducked under my arm. “Yes, well. I think that’s quite enough.” She cleared her throat and smoothed down her clothes. “This is me,” she said, avoiding my gaze and nodding at the door. “Thank you for walking me home.”

  It was as if she’d stopped herself before she wouldn’t be able to. Before she lost control. Before she enjoyed herself too much.

  “It was very much my pleasure,” I replied, wondering if she was the same in bed. I imagined she didn’t get much opportunity to let loose. Those country boys probably thrust in and out a few times, never giving her pleasure a second thought. I’d like to fuck her until she had no choice but to come—sweaty, screaming and desperate.