He reaches under the hem to run his forefinger up the inside of my thigh, watching me as my lips clamp together and my hands fly up to his chest. He smirks dirtily and sweeps his finger under my knickers seam, brushing my sex softly. I sigh.
‘Wet.’ he whispers, circling me slowly. I could weep with pleasure. ‘Later.’ He withdraws his finger and licks it clean.
I scowl at him. ‘You have to stop doing that.’
‘Never,’ He grins, yanking me out of the kitchen. ‘Say goodbye to your friend.’
‘Bye!’ I shout. ‘She’s your friend too, isn’t she?’ I haven’t hit him with the little exchange he and Kate had in the bar last night. He looks at me, his frown line skipping across his forehead. ‘At the bar, whispering in her ear.’ I add casually.
He opens the front door, ushering me out. ‘She gave me a dig for f**king off, and I apologised. I don’t offer apologies very often, so don’t push it.’
I laugh. I don’t expect he does. But he did – for me. He still hasn’t explained where he disappeared to, though.
Chapter 21
We drive out of the city, towards the Surrey Hills. I catch a glimpse of him, every now and then, watching me instead of the road. Each time, he smiles and squeezes my knee, which has had his palm spread on it for most of the journey. I start thinking about how little I know about him. He’s intense, quite volatile, incredibly self-assured and extremely rich. Oh, and he’s wild in the sex department. But that’s all I know. I don’t even know how old he is.
‘How long have you owned The Manor?’ I ask.
He throws me a curious, arched eyebrow and turns down the music via the controls on his steering wheel. ‘Since I was twenty one,’
‘That young?’ I blurt, my tone clearly displaying my shock at his answer.
He smiles brightly at me. ‘I inherited The Manor from my Uncle Carmichael.’
‘He died?’
His smile disappears. ‘Yes.’
Okay, now I really want to know more. ‘How old are you, Jesse?’
‘Twenty seven.’ he says, completely impassive.
I sigh. ‘Why won’t you tell me how old you are?’
He looks over at me, grinning. ‘Because, you might think I’m too old for you and run a mile.’
I eye him suspiciously across the car. He can’t be that old. I want to scream at him that I won’t be running anywhere. ‘Okay, how many times have I got to ask you before we get to your real age?’ I’ve tried this before and got nowhere.
He grins. ‘A few,’
‘I’m twenty six.’ I try for a bit of give and take as I watch him closely.
He glances at me. ‘I know.’
‘How?’
‘Your licence,’
‘You went through my bag as well as my phone?’ I cry incredulously, but he just shrugs. I shake my head in dismay. It’s an unwritten rule. This man really doesn’t have any manners. ‘Do you think you’re too old for me?’ Given what he has done to me, I’m guessing the answer is no, but as it seems like such an issue, it’s worth an ask.
‘No, I don’t.’ He keeps his eyes on the road. ‘My issue is your issue.’
I frown. ‘I don’t have an issue.’
He turns his handsome face towards me, all smoky eyed and glorious. ‘Then stop asking me.’
I rest my head back against the seat on a huff, watching the countryside pass us by. His age doesn’t bother me in the slightest – not now, anyway. I don’t think there’s anything that could change my mind on this.
I turn towards him. ‘What about your parents?’
The straight line his lips form has me immediately regretting the question. ‘I don’t see them.’ His tone is dismissive.
I sit back and say no more. His contemptuous approach makes me all the more curious, but it also makes me shut my trap.
We pull up at The Manor and Jesse flips a switch on the dash, opening the gates. As we approach the courtyard, I see Big John getting out of his Range Rover, in his usual black suit and wraparound sunglasses. He nods in greeting as I get out of the car and walk around to Jesse’s side.
‘What’s happening, John?’ Jesse asks, taking my hand and leading me up the steps to The Manor’s entrance. I shiver, thinking about the last time I was here. I did a runner, and I never thought I would be back. But here I am. I look up at Jesse as he claps hands with Big John. He’s turned all business like.
‘S’all good,’ John rumbles, allowing Jesse and me to pass before following us through to the restaurant. I’m surprised how quiet it is for ten o’clock on a Sunday morning in a hotel. Isn’t it breakfast time?
Jesse stops, turning to face me. ‘What would you like to eat?’ He’s even talking to me all business like.
‘I’m not fussed.’ I shrug. I’m feeling uncomfortable and beginning to wish I stayed on the sofa with a huge mug of coffee and a duvet. What am I going to do while he works, anyway?
His expression softens. ‘What do you really fancy?’
Oh, well, that’s really easy. ‘Smoked salmon,’
‘Bagel?’ he asks, and I nod. ‘Coffee?’
‘Please,’
‘How do you take your coffee?’
‘Cappuccino, extra shot. No chocolate or sugar.’
‘You’ll eat in my office,’
I shrug. ‘I’m easy.’ As soon as the words fall from my mouth, I snap my eyes up, discovering twinkling, green pools of delight and a very dirty smirk. ‘Not a word.’ I warn.