Feeling White

by Charlotte E Hart

  “Yes, just give me a minute to get my bag.” She walked into the back again. Unfortunately for him, it wasn’t her who returned a minute later.

  “Still being a fucking arsehole,” Belle said as she collected the drawer from the till. Clearly it wasn’t a question, more of a statement.

  “Belle,” he replied in acknowledgement of her existence. There was little else he could say until he proved himself. She was right to be protective. Actually, he admired her for it.

  “Dickhead,” she muttered under her breath as she looked directly at him and then returned to the back room. He bit back his frustration and waited for the only woman in the room who actually liked him to come back. A hand touched his back and he swung round to see Teresa smiling at him.

  “I know you love her and Belle will come round given time. Don’t worry, she’s just a natural born bitch,” she said. He looked down at the very small woman and felt a burst of thanks for Elizabeth’s friend. For some odd reason, her opinion of him was more worthwhile than he could have imagined.

  “Thank you,” he replied quietly.

  “Thank you for what?” Elizabeth’s lovely voice said as she drifted back into the room looking like an angel.

  “Nothing, it’s private and you need to keep your nose out, missy.” Teresa giggled as she waved and said her goodbyes. He turned back to Elizabeth and held out his hand. She smiled and took it as he pulled her out the door.

  “You’re driving?” she asked as he unlocked the car.

  “Yes,” he replied as he looked at her with a puzzled expression. What was wrong with him driving?

  “It’s just weird. You’re normally being driven and you’ve never actually driven me anywhere.” He thought about it for a moment and had to agree. This morning he’d just decided to drive himself. It was strange. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d driven to the office and thinking on it, he’d really enjoyed it.

  “Perhaps I’m starting to remember the simpler things in life,” he said as he pulled out into traffic and smiled broadly at her.

  “In that case I know the perfect place for dinner,” she said with her mischievous smile as she told him to head for Barking. He felt his eyebrow rise but was so amused by her sudden mysterious behaviour that he indicated and manoeuvred them into the right lane.

  Nearly an hour and a lot of heavy traffic later, they were sat in the car outside a small country pub. He looked across at her and watched her smile radiantly as she got out of the car and wandered towards the door. Her long legs encased in black jeans seemed to go on forever and her dark red hair tumbling around her cream shirt emphasized her soft pink lips effortlessly. She stopped and beckoned him to get out of the car. He wasn’t entirely sure if he was horny or humbled by the way she just owned the space around her. Her face illuminated the ground around her as she held her hand out and pointed to the black and white thatched building. Hand holding, yet another wonderful thing about Elizabeth Scott. He chuckled to himself and got out to grab her.

  “You’re beautiful,” he said as he picked her up and kissed the living hell out of her.

  “So are you,” she replied as she pulled her finger down his nose and kissed it. It was the sweetest gesture he could ever remember receiving and he laughed at it heartily as he dropped her to the ground.

  “Where are we?” he said as he looked up at the sign. “The Spotty Pig?”

  “My cousins lived around here when we were younger. We would meet here once every couple of months for lunch or dinner. It’s wonderful. A nice family run it and it’s all homemade,” she said excitedly as she opened the door.

  He looked around the interior and felt like he’d been transported to some sort of sixteenth century inn. The walls were all black and white and threaded with old crossbeams. Hundreds of old horse brasses hung from every available surface. The random pictures of some non-descript landscape that dotted the walls were truly fucking horrific but regardless, the place was packed full of people eating dinner and laughing. He swept his gaze across to the bar and noticed a large rumbling fire in the other side. It reminded him of cold winter nights and blankets across knees. The place had a warm, homely feeling about it and he instantly understood why she liked it. There wasn’t a pretentious thing in the space that would distract from its comfort or appeal and he smiled back at her as the visions of a home with her swept through his mind.

  “Can I order for you?” she asked as they approached the bar. He smirked at her.

  “If you like,” he replied as he watched her peruse the blackboard on the wall. Apparently there was only six meals to choose from.

  “Okay, why don’t you go and grab the chairs by the fire and I’ll get us some drinks,” she muttered as she continued her gaze distractedly, nibbling her thumb with her hand on her hip.

  “What makes you think you know what I want?” he asked as she backed her arse into him and jumped at the unexpected contact. He grabbed her hips and pulled her back harder.

  “I’ll... I’ll wing it and hope. I do that quite a lot lately.” She giggled as he grazed her neck with his teeth and let her go. Wandering toward the swinging doorway, he gazed back to find her deep in conversation with the old man behind the bar. She looked perfect just as she always did and he felt his heart explode again. Unfortunately, he just didn’t see the door in time before it smacked him in the face with full force.

  “Alex! God, Alex, are you okay?” he heard as he lifted himself from the floor and moved his hand to his nose. Christ, it hurt. He registered her laughing quietly and turned to glare at her. His eyes were watering with the pain but try as he might, he couldn’t form any thoughts of anger as she lifted her hand to her stunning mouth and tried to stifle her fucking laughter. The young girl beside him was shifting nervously and apologizing profusely so he assumed it was her who had banged the door forward. He glared at her instead, and she ran away.

  “Are you bloody laughing at me, Miss Scott?” he said sharply. That was obviously her limit because she erupted into fits of hysterics and almost fell over as she bumped into a table. He quickly grabbed at her waist and pulled her to him with a growl.

  “I’m sorry. Shit, that was funny. I mean… Sorry, it wasn’t. It’s just... Oh my god, I can’t speak,” she continued through her tears as she swiped at them and looked at him, then burst out laughing again. He couldn’t help but grin at her laughter. It was infectious, and before long, the whole bar was joining in. It was the first time he could remember being the butt of a joke and being reasonably happy about it. Eventually, the old man came over, slapped him on the back and apologised for his waitress’s blunder. He introduced himself as Mike and opened the door for them to go through, safely this time, with a wink at her. She giggled and nodded at him.

  Alex pulled her through to the table and sat after she had. Thankfully she had managed to contain her laughter to the occasional snort and he shook his head at the whole ridiculous situation. What the boardroom would make of such a disaster was anyone’s guess.

  “Is your nose okay?” she said once she’d calmed herself a bit more.

  “I’m sure I’ll survive,” he said after a pause. “I’m glad I amused you though,” he continued as he took off his suit jacket and rolled up his sleeves.

  “Better,” she said as she gazed at him. He looked across at her questioningly.

  “Excuse me? You don’t like my suit?”

  “I love your suit, and you in it, but I prefer you out of it.” A small shrug glanced her shoulders. “You look more relaxed now and I like to see your skin,” she replied as she bit her thumb nervously. He smirked at her and picked up his drink. It was a good reply and more importantly, an honest one.

  “So what am I having for dinner?” he asked casually as he watched her pupils dilating at his tapping fingers. Fuck, he loved how responsive she was so he decided to keep the honesty thing going.

  “Lamb,” she replied as she licked her lips and shifted in her seat.

  “What are you thin
king about?” he asked as quickly as he could, staring into her eyes and looking for her signs as he continued his tapping. He knew them so well; he’d only have to see or hear a flicker of them and he’d know what to do next.

  “Your hands.” His gaze dropped to her lips as she parted them. He had an instant need to grab her and bend her over the table but refrained. Perhaps she needed more teasing to get back to herself. It seemed to be working in this moment.

  “Where?” He kept his gaze as impassive as he could manage given the growing issue between his legs and slowed the tap to a steadier pace, watching as her eyes returned to his fingers.

  “Throat,” she replied as she grazed her fingers delicately across her own and swallowed slowly. It was mesmerising and he struggled to stop himself from throwing her over his shoulder. God, he wished they were in a private room. They bloody well would have been if they’d ended up where he’d been taking her this evening.

  “How firm is the grasp?” He hoped the answer would be an honest one and not one she held back from this time. He needed her back and he wanted her happy about it, ready to be with him again and not the tampered down version she was currently asking for. He couldn’t keep it up for much longer.

  “Very,” she said as she brought her eyes up to meet his. The sparkle in them indicated that she was ready for more again and he felt his whole body exhale with relief.

  “Well, I’ll see what I can come up with for you then,” he said as he abruptly stopped his tapping fingers and looked toward the approaching waitress. She placed their food, giving him a very shy smile and apologised again for the earlier incident.

  He picked up his cutlery and waited for Elizabeth to do the same as he looked at the food in front of him. It was mountainous and he smiled at the thought of home cooked meals. After a beat, he realised that she hadn’t picked up her cutlery and looked across at her. She looked suddenly nervous. Gone was the passion he saw a few moments ago and he tried to think of a way to get her back. He sliced into the meat and licked his lips as it fell from the bone.

  “Would it help if I told you I was nervous, too?” he said as he lifted it to his mouth. His taste buds exploded with rosemary and deep rich gravy and he only just stopped the moan of happiness.

  “I don’t know. Are you?” she replied as she narrowed her eyes at him. Was he? He didn’t know. Probably not in that capacity but definitely in how she perceived him.

  “Do you want me to be nervous, Elizabeth, or do you want be to be what I am without opinion?”

  It was the best honest answer he could give her, and Christ he cherished not thinking about controlling himself, just switching off and being what he was underneath. She raised her eyebrow at him as if registering his candid response and thanking him for it. She knew what she was dealing with. He wasn’t going to hide from her anymore.

  “I want nothing less than what you are, Alex. I’m pretty sure you’re the one who needs to find the balance between those two, not me,” she said with a soft smile as she picked up her knife and fork and dived into what appeared to be pork and apples.

  A balance? He’d never thought about it like that before and spent the rest of the meal thinking about exactly that. Was that was she was trying to find in him? A comfortable balance of all the versions of himself that he played with daily? Didn’t everyone do that to some degree, though? Play different people to different consumers? Wasn’t that the point of what he did and how he’d made so much money doing it? Sometimes he longed to just be the angry young man he used to be, to just let all the aggression flow freely and be exactly what he wanted to be regardless of the situation. He was pretty sure that wasn’t what she was after, but it did spark the idea that perhaps it was time to find himself again and find the balance she spoke of.

  Having finished the meal, he leaned back in his chair and watched her pick at her food. She was clearly full but couldn’t resist another bite. He didn’t blame he. The food was delicious and he couldn’t remember enjoying a meal more. He lifted his glass of red and drank the last of it with a real sense of pleasure, something he realised had been sadly lacking until he’d met her. How she’d done it was still a mystery, but she’d definitely awoken a new man and he was finding himself liking him more and more by the day.

  She looked at her watch and frowned.

  “Are you ready to go?” she said with a sigh as she looked across at him and smiled. He flicked his eyes to the clock on the wall - ten thirty. Where the hell had the evening gone?

  “Yes, come on,” he replied as he got up and extended a hand. She took it and followed, muttering about watching out for the door. He tightened his grip and she giggled. God, he loved that sound. He was so busy thinking about it that he was almost out the door before he realised he hadn’t paid and stopped abruptly. She banged into him and giggled again as she stumbled backwards.

  “I haven’t paid,” he said as he pulled her back towards the bar. She sniggered at him and stopped him for a kiss on the way.

  “We don’t have to,” she whispered in his ear. “I doubt a couple of meals will break me.” He looked at her in shock as her words registered in his brain, the very words he’d used with her in Rome to his own amusement.

  “You own it?” he said as he looked down at her with pride and smiled at her deceit. He liked her little game very much. She grinned back at him with a shrug.

  “Well, not just me. Scott’s does. We couldn’t let it die and it was so cheap at the time,” she replied as she pulled him back toward the door, shouting her goodbyes to Mike as they left.

  “I’m impressed,” he said. It was honestly the only thing he could think of as she held her hand out at him. He frowned. What was she asking for?

  “Keys. You’ve had three glasses of wine, Mr. White,” she said as she stared him down. He rolled his eyes and threw them at her. She unlocked the car and got in with a beautiful slide. She looked good sat there and he felt the pride swell again.

  “Are you as bad as your sister?” He suddenly remembered the epic journey where he’d almost lost his life, twice.

  “Worse.” She chuckled as she fiddled with knobs and buttons on the seat. “How the hell do you move it forward? Sodding expensive things have too many buttons on them.” He reached over and kissed her as she slid forward a foot at his command of the correct button.

  “And how many sports cars have you driven, Miss Scott?” he asked with a smirk as she floored it backward and lifted her brow at him.

  “Worried, Mr. White?” she said as she spun the wheel in her hand so efficiently that he got the feeling he was being teased again as he gazed at her. Her cheeky little smile got his pulse racing instantly.

  “You are a woman of surprises, Elizabeth,” he replied as he closed his eyes and rested his head back against the seat. “Anymore this evening?”

  “I think two is plenty of exercise for that old heart of yours. I wouldn’t want you keeling over on me,” she said with a giggle as she hit the accelerator and raced toward the road, screaming her delight as she went. He chuckled at her entertainment and looked across at her again. She couldn’t be any more perfect if she tried.

  Chapter 7

  Elizabeth

  I 'm ready. I know I am. He's never looked at me before like he has been doing in this last week, and I honestly can't keep his hands out of my mind any more. The constant thoughts of what they'll do to me when I give him the chance to use them fully is beyond absorbing. I know he hasn't shown me everything yet, regardless of his actions in Rome. I don't think he's even begun to handle me the way he wants to. I can see it in his eyes. It's as if he's protecting me from something. Maybe he's protecting me from him? I saw something darker in Pascal's eyes and I know I've seen flashes of the same thing in Alex's.

  We've had a week of loveliness and it's felt warm, kind and sincere. He's told me he loves me repeatedly, and now I believe him, but I can't tell him the same until this feels right again. I feel like I've been seeing a changed man - a man I don't k
now, and one that, if I'm honest, I'm just a little bit uncomfortable with. He's still in there and I know I told him I needed something different, but it just all feels contrived and unnatural, as if I'm pushing him to be someone he doesn't want to be, and I know I don't want him that way at all. I need him back and I need to trust him to let him be that man again. Why did he have to screw it up?

  I'm lying in the bath, having had the busiest day of the year so far, trying to think of a reason not to trust him when he says he loves me. I've been up since five this morning, preparing everything for the weekend's bookings. The winter wedding of the Williamsons had me chopping and dicing for most of the morning, and the Bloomsburg Hotel's festive office party had me making nibbles and delectables for most of the afternoon and evening. James is thankfully running the event this evening as we both knew there wasn't a cat's chance in hell I'd be able to do it, and Theresa and Belle are doing the wedding tomorrow with the family chef putting all the dishes together for them. I'm so glad that it's turned out like that, because I simply haven't got the strength to say no any more.

  I narrow my eyes at my own toes as they poke out of the bubbles at me, as if they can somehow answer my questions for me. Ridiculous, Beth. Just get on with it. You know you want it.

  I can feel my own body betraying my mind as it aches at the thought of him, and I brush my fingers over my stomach and down towards my thighs. I'm cursing myself under my breath, but funnily enough, I'm not stopping my hand as it weaves its way downward further and touches my nub with just the right amount of pressure. Without thinking, I feel my other hand wander toward my neck and smile at the thought of those dastardly hands as a moan escapes my mouth. The water swirls about around me and makes me remember his tongue as he snakes his way around my body, teasing me to within an inch of my life before he lets me get anywhere near the point of explosion, and then, when I'm about there, just stopping and holding me back again. I slip my fingers inside and think of him pushing my barriers, enticing me with that pleasure pain thing he does so well, biding my hands and hanging me up for him to view and...