Total pages in book: 184
Estimated words: 176002 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 880(@200wpm)___ 704(@250wpm)___ 587(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 176002 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 880(@200wpm)___ 704(@250wpm)___ 587(@300wpm)
And so will I.
Talking of starters, the time has been flying by. They arrive with a flourish.
We talk right through the meal, and it’s like starting from the beginning of a fairy tale. We talk about being kids, and what toys we used to like, through the challenges of family – where Josh has me laughing in hysterics at some of his antics with his siblings. We talk about school, and when I became goth, and what music I like, and what he likes. I tell him how I signed the rental agreement on my new apartment, and how incredible and modern and open plan it is, and gush about how I’ve been browsing online for furniture all day today, since I will barely have a single thing to put in it next week if I don’t get my butt into gear.
“The apartment sounds great,” he says. “So, where is it? North London?”
Oh no. Here it comes… the stalker moment.
“Belgravia,” I tell him, my heart pounding in my chest, but Josh doesn’t so much as raise an eyebrow, just smiles.
“One of the towers?”
“Yes.”
“Which one?”
“West wing,” I say, and he nods. “Great choice. Nice and handy, too. Just across the courtyard.”
Phew. What a relief.
And what a fucking pleasure. Stalker crisis averted.
We talk about so much. Laugh about so much. Grin about so much. But through all of it, not once throughout the conversation do we talk about the two big elephants in the room.
Work and exes.
I know he’s had his heart broken, just like I have. I know her name was Magpie and she was an entertainer, like me, and I know she went off with a client. But I don’t ask him about her. I don’t dive bomb enough to ask the obvious question. I’ve been skirting it on messenger for weeks.
Are you over her?
I hope so. I trust so. I pray so.
I wonder if he’s thinking the same about me…
We’ve finished with dessert before I know it. The restaurant’s chocolate mousse was the very definition of yum on a plate. And there we sit, Josh and I, sipping the rest of our wine with the obvious situation looming ahead. Will it be separate cabs goodnight, or will it be more?
He gets the bill before I even mention the prospect of going halves, and we still sit there, even after the waiter has brought my bouquet back to the table.
Our eyes lock again, tension almost palpable, and I wait. I just wait. I’m not going to dive bomb again.
But I don’t need to. It’s Josh who makes the move.
“How about you come and take another look around Belgravia?” he asks. “I can show you my apartment. You can check out the view. You’ll probably be able to see your new place through my window.”
“Sounds great to me,” I say, “I’d love to see your place. I can imagine the future while looking out through your window.”
“I hope I’m included in the window imagining,” he says with a smirk, and when he pushes to his feet I know, yet again, that I’m done for. The bulge in his pants shows, nice and big across the table, and I imagine the barbells lying in there. A whole steel ladder of piercings up his cock. I wonder what the hell it would feel like inside me. What it will feel like inside me. That much is becoming obvious…
Jeez, it seems like the butterflies have shifted lower. My thighs clench as I rise to my feet to join him.
“You coming, then?” He holds out a hand and I take it.
“Sure am.”
There’s no doubt about the fact that I will be coming. I could come at the very sight of him.
Chapter Seven
I’m glad Josh and I are getting a cab to Belgravia together, because waving him off in a separate direction would be too hard after such a great meal. The night isn’t over yet. I’m buzzing as he reaches across the back seat and takes my hand in his.
I need this. The thrill of the touch, the promises looming, the electricity between us. I need the relief of someone lighting up my world all over again, and to break the shitty chains of the past. Someone to make me feel alive again.
Someone like Josh. The Adonis sitting beside me.
“Do you know Belgravia very well?” he asks.
“No, not really, I’d never been there before the apartment viewing. It was just one on a list. Turns out it was the best one. You’d hope so, given the monthly rent. But still. I didn’t know that, not until I saw it. Who’d have thought I’d end up living there.”
He asks the obvious question.
“Did you know we live there? Me and Tiff?”
I must look at him like I’m a criminal caught in the act. “Um… Yeah, I knew you lived in Belgravia. Eb told me. Not which block, though. I’m not a stalker or anything, I promise.”