Page 32 of From London, With Love

A laugh slips from Lara’s lips before she quickly covers her mouth as if she can’t believe she laughed. “I’m sorry, you accept what?” she responds, dropping her hand to her lap.

“I accept your challenge.”?

This time, the laugh is carefree. “That wasn’t a challenge, Mr Darcy.” Big blue eyes narrow in my direction. As much as it boosts my ego to know she’s thought of me enough to give me a nickname, it might be nice to hear my name on her lips at a time like this. But if I want this to happen again—which I absolutely do—it’s not worth the risk of her knowing my identity. Because if she knows that, it’s only a matter of time before she knows how the media has portrayed me.

“No? That’s too bad, I’ve already accepted. One does not simply back down from an accepted challenge.”

“You’re insane.” The smile she’s struggling to hold back, combined with the heat in her eyes, tells a different story. NowthatI can work with.

Her legs have slowly come together, which simply won’t do. Placing a hand on the inside of each knee, I yank them apart. Astartled Lara lets out a small gasp as she looks down at me once more.?

My hands trail up the inside of her thighs. “I vow to be the one to ruin those odds, Lara.” Her name comes out in an unfamiliar gravel.?

My hands reach their target, and I lean forward once more, refusing to break eye contact with the angel above me.

As my tongue makes contact with her clit, the unimaginable happens.

The fucking doorbell chimes.

Lara jumps in the chair, her hands twisting in my hair, attempting to push me away. The entire scenario makes me chuckle, even with the erection I’m sporting.?

Aware we’re no longer alone in the store, I rise from my position on the floor. But not before giving Lara one last languid lick, then adjusting the placement of her underwear. Lara stands, and I make sure to pull her skirt into place.

Before she can run, I place a hand on her forearm. She turns to face me, and I lean in. My lips graze the shell of her ear as I speak.

“If you think we’re finished, Lara, you’ll soon find yourself to beverymistaken.” The words are more of a murmur than anything, but the answering goosebumps gracing her skin tell me she heard every word.

In no rush, I allow my gaze to trace each curve of Lara’s rear form as she retreats to the shop floor, taking in each detail like it’s the last time I’ll have the privilege. Given the way in which the last ten minutes went, I think there’s a good chance it certainly will not be the last time.?

Dropping into the seat Lara vacated, I let out a deep breath. There’s a dangerous play-by-play occurring at the front of my mind—the way it felt to have Lara gripping my hair and tugging. Theway she writhed beneath my touch, her reactiveness lighting up something inside me. The way my cock ached to connect with some part of her each time she elicited one of those little whimpers.?

As the front of my trousers threatens to become concerningly tight, my daydreaming is cut short. The overhead bell sounds, echoing throughout the shop—the telltale sign that we’re alone once more.

I can’t be certain how long I’ve sat here; it could’ve been two minutes or twenty. Time always seems to warp where Lara is involved, regardless of whether she’s physically here or if I’m merely thinking of her. The latter has become increasingly more frequent, which both concerns and excites me.

Time to face the music.

Chapter 14

Lara

“It’s been a pleasure, as always, Lara,” Mr Darcy drawls, reappearing through the arched doorway. My name has never held such sex appeal until now. Before I can gather myself and respond, he’s out the front door. Fixation sets in, and I’m unable?to tear my eyes away from his retreating figure. He takes a few more steps down the path and stops alongside the motorcycle.?

Sensing my eyes on him, he turns. Our eyes lock from afar, and I swear the faintest of smiles drags at the corner of his mouth. Without breaking eye contact, he reaches down and collects the helmet from its compartment. Ever so slowly, he lifts it above his head and lowers it over his face. I can’t see his eyes anymore, but mygod,I can feel them. The air feels stifling, and I abruptly turn from the window.?

Did I really get all hot and bothered watching a man put on a helmet? Fuck, I need to get laid. Or go another round of whatever happened in the back room. Or both.

I’m also still trying to process the fact he rides a motorcycle, as if he wasn’t hot enough already. Obscene images of thoseveined hands gripping the throttle flood my mind, causing an irrational rush of envy at the way it would be handled.

With Mr Darcy gone, I have a moment of reprieve.What the fuck just happened?I’m struggling to reconcile the person I know myself to be with the person who was willingly eaten out in her workplace by a man whose name is a mystery. Ido notdo things like this. I’m a rule follower who sees most men as nothing but disappointing. What was I thinking?

What’s even more shocking is that I lovedevery single secondof it. I’ve never been so close to the edge at the hands of a man before, and I’ll be damned if I don’t want to repeat it immediately. Not only that, but I’m now more intrigued than ever to know more about this man. It’s a given that he’s incredibly attractive, but I’m dying to see more of who he is on the inside. Our interactions are unlike any I’ve had with men previously. He challenges me, and I challenge him in return; he matches my sarcasm to a T; he looks at me as though he can’t quite believe his eyes—I look at him and wonderwhy me?

After work, I arrived home with my mind still reeling. Do I look like I had a beautiful man’s head between my legs mere hours ago? Am I going to be outed the second I walk through the front door? Is my arousal still evident??

The smell of freshly baked cookies wafts over me as I enter the open living space. Mia pops up from behind the bench. Looking every bit the modern-day housewife, she dons a frilly white apron and matching oven mitts.?

“I made cookies!” she beams, greeting me.

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