His Manhattan_A British Billionaire Romance Page 4

  The hectic pace continues for the next two hours, but it’s not enough to stop me knowing the second he walks in. I refuse to look up and make eye contact with him. I’m still too angry. Watching where he goes out of the corner of my eye, I ensure I head to the other end of the bar.

  He stays for just over an hour before giving up and leaving. I may be at the other end of the room, but that doesn’t mean I can’t feel the tension radiating from him. I stop for the first time since I started my shift as I stare at his retreating back. Unfortunately, he must feel my attention, because just before he turns to leave, he looks over his shoulder, right into my eyes.

  His expression is hard and his eyes are dark. Tingles rush through me at the sight of his obvious frustration. I shouldn’t be excited that he’s angry at me; I should be happy. Sadly, all I want to do is run towards him and do what I spent all last night dreaming about: kissing him.

  I blink and he’s gone. Disappointment floods me.

  It’s crazy busy all night, and by the time happy hour rolls around again, I’m more than ready to get the hell out of there and into my bed. I don’t want to know how many days—or should I say nights—I’ve worked in a row; it’s too depressing. I do know I haven’t got a day off for a while, either.

  The relief I feel when I step out of my heels is one of the best feelings. I wiggle my toes about before sliding them into my well-worn sneakers and sighing. Next, I pull my hair from the scraped back ponytail and run my fingers through it as I scratch at my scalp lightly. Once the pain’s receded, I pile it all back on top of my head and secure it in a messy bun.

  Each step is hard work as I make my way towards the exit. My only focus is collapsing onto my bed.

  “Shit, I’m sorry,” I say when I bump into someone, but that person doesn’t move.

  Slowly moving my eyes up the chest in front of me, I’m hit with a sense of déjà vu.

  My heart pounds as I continue my journey towards his face. When I get there, my breath catches.

  His eyes are hard like when he left the bar hours ago, and his lips are pressed into a thin line. It seems my British gentleman has gone, because the guy stood in front of me right now looks anything but.

  No words are said as we stand there staring at each other. The anger I was feeling towards him vanishes, replaced by anticipation and excitement. My chest heaves with my increased breaths, and I see out of the corner of my eye that his is matching my pace. Heat floods down between my thighs as the anticipation of what he’s going to do escalates.

  I just start to think he’s not going to do anything, when I’m suddenly moving. My back bumps against the wall to the bar, and his lips descend on mine. Then, he kisses me in a way I’ve never experienced before. He owns me completely.

  His tongue sweeps into my mouth and his fingers thread into my hair, his grip causing a sting that soon turns into tingles. He steps forward so we’re flush against each other, and I feel every solid inch of him against me.

  The vibrations of a moan tingle against my lips, but I’ve no idea if it comes from him or me. Our surroundings vanish, the noise disappears, and it’s as if it’s just the two of us on the planet.

  Harrison

  Knowing she was blatantly ignoring me pissed me off more than I expected. I wanted to drag her over the bar and kiss the defiance out of her. Watching her ogled by every man within twenty feet didn’t help my frustration, either. I knew she was aware of my presence. She may not have looked directly at me, but I could see her glancing my way out of the corner of her eye. I either had to leave, or risk doing something that would piss her off further, like drag her out the back, somewhere we could be alone.

  Sending her that phone was a risk, I knew that, but when I saw her with that old brick, I had to do something to help her. A few hundred quid is nothing to me, but I knew it was more than she had.

  “What the fuck died up your arse?” Zack asks as I fall down onto the sofa in our suite.

  “Fuck. Off. Shouldn’t you be losing your trust fund on the slots, or knee deep in paid pussy right now?”

  “Whoa, you seriously need to get laid, bro. And I never pay for pussy.”

  I turn and stare at him with narrowed eyes, hoping he gets a clue and fucks off out of my sight.

  “Things not going so well with Summer, then?” He crosses one leg over his knee before resting back and getting comfortable. “No, wait for me to get my pyjamas and my pillow, and we’ll have a slumber party and talk about our feelings.”

  His amusement over the situation pisses me off. “Fuck you, Zack. Just because you’re only ever attracted to the pussy that comes with a woman, it doesn’t mean we’re all that thoughtless.”

  “Shit, you really like her, don’t you?”

  “I’m not having this conversation with you.”

  I storm from the room and march straight into my en suite. I turn the shower up high and strip out of my suit. Standing with my face towards the water, I allow it to pour over me in the hope it will wash my anger and frustration away with it. I made the decision not all that long ago that I didn’t want to feel this way about a woman ever again. I didn’t want her to take over my thoughts and my life, but somehow Summer appeared when I least expected it and has burrowed her way right in without even realising it.

  When I eventually emerge from the en suite with a towel wrapped around my waist, I find Zack sat on the corner of my bed. I stare at him and wait for whatever priceless piece of advice is going to fall from his lips.

  “I just wanted to ask one question.” I raise an eyebrow for him to continue before I lose the will to live. “If you want her so badly then why are you up here with me? Get your arse back down there and claim her like you were planning on doing the other night.”

  I open my mouth to respond, but no words come out. Zack’s lips curl up into a satisfied smirk.

  “Oh, just fuck off,” I say in the end, because damn him to hell, he’s right.

  I’ve no idea how long I lose sense of my surroundings as I kiss her. It could be minutes or hours—I have no fucking clue. But the second I remember where we are, I step back and shove my hands in my pockets to stop me from reaching for her again.

  She’s leant back against the wall. Her hair’s a mess, her lipstick’s smeared over her face—and probably mine—and her eyes are glassy as they stare back at me. She’s never looked fucking better.

  “I’m sorry, that was thoughtless,” I say, knowing it’s the right thing to do. It’s a total lie, because I don’t give a fuck how thoughtless it was; it had to happen.

  “We need to get out of here,” is her only response, before pushing off the wall and marching towards the exit.

  She continues to speed walk down the pavement; fuck knows how her little legs allow her to move so fast.

  When I catch up with her, I slide my hand into hers, but unlike yesterday, she immediately pulls hers away and stops walking.

  “Stop it,” she snaps.

  Putting my hands up in surrender, I wait for what she needs to say.

  “I didn’t ask for any of this,” she mutters.

  “The best things in life don’t appear because we ask for them.” I step towards her, just to see what she’ll do. To my delight, she doesn’t back away. She just looks up at me, her eyes wide, scared, but also excited. The sight sends a zap of excitement straight through me. What I just said couldn’t be truer. I definitely didn’t ask for this, for her. Hell, I was asking for the opposite. But here we are, and the last thing I want is for her to walk away from me right now.

  She stares at me for the longest time, making me wish I could read her thoughts.

  “Summer?”

  “I need breakfast.” She starts walking again. I fall into step and walk beside her all the way to the diner.

  Nothing’s said between us, but her anger is palpable.

  It’s not until we’ve both finished eating that she eventually speaks.

  “I refuse to accept this.” She places the pho
ne on the table between us.

  “Sorry, it has a strict no returns policy.”

  I see anger flash through her eyes, my cock twitches at the sight. I really like this fired up version of sweet, shy Summer.

  “I’m not keeping it.” Her voice is almost a growl.

  I have to readjust myself in my seat. Her eyes drop and one eyebrow rises. “You’ve no idea how sexy you are right now, do you?”

  Her blush does nothing but add fuel to my fire.

  “I’m serious, Harrison. I’m not a charity case.”

  “I know. I just wanted to do something nice for you. Plus, you can’t very well send me sexy pictures on your old thing,” I add with a wink and a smile.

  “What? I will not—” She stops when she sees the look on my face. I must be doing an okay job of pretending it was a joke…I can’t think of anything better than opening my phone to a picture of her. “I need to get home. I’m starting earlier tonight.”

  “Okay.” I pay the bill before following her out and to her house.

  “Do you want to come in?”

  “More than you’d probably believe, but I don’t want to stop you from sleeping,” I admit when we walk up to her front door.

  “Just a coffee?” she asks shyly.

  “Sure.”

  I follow her down the short hallway, shamelessly staring at her arse as it sways back and forth. The fabric of her dress clings to her curves perfectly, and I can’t help but admire what’s right in front of me. The memory of how her lips tasted when I kissed her earlier is at the forefront of my mind.

  “Take a seat,” she says, pointing over to a small two-seater sofa. “I’ll make coffee.”

  I place my jacket over the arm before lowering myself down as the sounds of her banging about in the kitchen fill the room.

  In only minutes, she’s walking towards me with two steaming mugs in her hand. I take one from her when she offers it, and look towards the seat next to me when she stands awkwardly in front of me.

  Her cheeks flush once again before she follows my unspoken instruction.

  We sit in silence for a few seconds. Summer stares straight ahead, sipping on her too hot coffee. I keep my eyes focused on her face. She really is beautiful.

  It’s not until she turns to me that I get a good look at the mug she’s trying to hide behind. I’d rather have a screaming orgasm is written in bright pink across it. When my eyes come back up to hers, she pulls the mug away and looks at it.

  “I…uh…Ireland…” she stutters. Ignoring her attempt at an explanation, I reach out and take it from her shaking hands before placing it with mine on the side table.

  Her eyes are wide and full of anticipation when I look back at her. She opens her mouth to say more, but I stop her by placing my finger to her lips.

  “Tell me you don’t want it,” I whisper when my lips are inches from hers. It’s her only chance to stop me, because I have a feeling that once my lips are on her again, I’m not going to be able to stop.

  Her eyes stare into mine, the blue getting darker as the seconds pass, but she doesn’t say anything.

  I drop my gaze to her lips as I move my finger away, and watch her tongue sneak out to wet them in preparation. It makes my cock throb.

  I quickly look back up, but my restraint’s gone. My fingers thread into her hair and hold tightly as my tongue sweeps into her mouth. Her hands grip onto the fabric of my shirt at my shoulders, her enthusiasm matching mine.

  Running my hands over her slim waist, I pull her down the sofa and push her skirt up her thighs so I can settle between them. I press my body down onto her, and a loud moan of pleasure rumbles deep from her throat. My hands continue to roam and alternate between grabbing at her perfect arse and tits. Fuck, I can’t get enough. With my continued hip movement, she starts to writhe beneath me. It’s fucking torture. I feel like a bloody teenager again, making out on the sofa fully dressed, but it’s the best experience I’ve had in a long time.

  Her nails scratch up and down my back as she whimpers, but at no point does she break our kiss.

  “Whoa, shit. Hello!” Another female voice breaks through my lust, and when I open my eyes, I see Ireland looking down at us, smiling.

  “Bollocks.”

  “Don’t stop on my account,” she says, walking off towards the kitchen.

  I can’t help laughing when I look down at Summer. She’s sexy as fuck with her messy hair, glassy eyes, and swollen lips. I want nothing more than to pick her up and march her to her bedroom, but I know she deserves more than that.

  After a few seconds, she seems to come back to herself and her entire face flushes.

  “Shit,” she mutters, dropping her face to her hands. When she pulls back and looks at me, her eyes are hard and a little wet.

  “Wha—”

  “I think you need to leave.”

  I speak before my brain realises. “Have dinner with me.”

  “I can’t. I have work.”

  “She can go tomorrow night,” is called from the kitchen before Ireland appears.

  “I’m working tomorrow night,” Summer snaps at her.

  “I’ll cover it. It should be my night off.”

  “No, you can’t do that. You need a night off.”

  “You need it more.”

  “No, that’s not—”

  “Argue as much as you want, but it’s happening.” Ireland looks away from a pissed off Summer and directs her next words at me. “Pick her up at seven tomorrow night. She’ll be ready. But,” she warns, “you treat her like she’s a fucking princess, you hear me?”

  “Yes,” I say, just about managing to keep in the sarcastic ‘ma’am’ that wants to fall from my lips. She doesn’t need to warn me; I have no intention of giving Summer anything less than she deserves.

  “Okay, all sorted then. Please continue,” she says with a smirk as she gestures between us and the cushion I’ve placed on my lap to hide my raging hard on.

  Summer

  I’m still pissed off with Ireland for intervening, but as our date approaches, I’m starting to feel more and more relieved she did. Just the prospect of the night off is enough to get excited about, let alone a night with Harrison.

  He’s been driving me fucking crazy since I kissed him goodbye not long after our date was arranged yesterday morning.

  I’m sat on Ireland’s bed while she rifles through her wardrobe, trying to find me something suitable to wear. I don’t own anything worthy of going out on a date in, let alone a date with Harrison, who’s always dressed to impress in designer suits.

  “Either of these?” she asks, holding up two dresses I’d never be seen dead in.

  “No,” I sulk. Ireland suggested a quick shopping trip this afternoon, but I point blank refused, not wanting to spend any money. So it only left us one option…her wardrobe.

  “This?”

  “No.”

  “Oh…I know…and it’s perfect,” she says, pulling out a dress I recognise. It’s a floral summer number with spaghetti straps and an open back. I’ve never worn something so revealing in my life, so the thought of going out in it makes my stomach turn over.

  “I don’t know,” I say as she holds it up in front of me.

  “Soft make up, loose flowing waves, and your wedges. It’s perfect. He’ll be warning off other men all night.”

  “I don’t want that.”

  “Seriously, this is the one. Try it on.”

  I take it from her and she turns around to give me some privacy. I pull off my vest and slide the dress over my head. The fabric feels amazing as it falls over my skin, and it hangs perfectly. There’s just one problem.

  “It’s too short.” I’m a couple of inches taller than Ireland, and I feel exposed.

  “No, it’s really not. You’ve got incredible legs, and it shows them off perfectly. But…you need to lose the bra.”

  “What?”

  “The bra. Get rid of it.”

  “But…I…” I stutter. I
’m fairly sure I haven’t gone without a bra since I was about twelve. Ireland gives me a look that tells there’s no room for argument, so I do as she says.

  It feels weird, and if I thought I felt exposed before, I feel naked now.

  “Perfect. Look,” she says, pulling me towards her full length mirror.

  As I stand and look at myself, I can’t help but agree that it looks good. But I’m still not sure about going out in public like it.

  “He’ll love it,” she says again, and a rush of excitement flows through me at the thought of seeing Harrison.

  I was hoping to see him during my shift last night. I was still on a high from our little session on the sofa, but much to my disappointment, he didn’t show his face—or his brother. I guess he was busy, or sleeping, but I couldn’t get the nagging feeling he’d changed his mind out of my head.

  I know I’m being stupid. He was definitely fully on board with the situation while we were on the sofa yesterday morning. I flush hot just thinking about how close I’d been to falling apart under him. I’m not a virgin—my high school boyfriend wears that badge of honour—but I’ve never experienced something as intense as that. We were both fully clothed and only kissing, but it felt like there was nothing between us, no barriers physically or mentally. His kiss in the hotel was intense, but that was all consuming.

  “Got everything you need for the night?” Ireland asks with a wink when she sees me grab my purse.

  “Uh…”

  “Hang on,” she says before leaving the room.

  “Thank you,” I whisper, my face beetroot as she hands me a couple of condoms.

  She laughs at my embarrassment before telling me how much I need this. Since moving here, I’ve been adamant I don’t need anything a man has to offer, but as I stand waiting for Harrison to pick me up, I can’t help but agree this will do me some good.

  I’m a nervous wreck once Ireland leaves to do my shift and I’m stood alone waiting. I check the phone once again, but I’ve had no contact from him since this afternoon.

  After he left yesterday and I took my stuff through to my room, I remembered I still had the iPhone. I powered it up and found numerous messages from the day before when I ignored his demand to call him, but I also found one from a few seconds before, telling me he was looking forward to seeing me again tonight. My insistence that I didn’t want the damn cell phone flew out the window as I texted him back. We’ve exchanged a few messages since, and each time I see his name on the screen, my stomach does a little flip.