She was lonely. He could use that.
The trouble was, he was starting to think he was lonely, too. He’d enjoyed the afternoon with her far too much. His previous years’ worth of dates had consisted of picking up some willing young thing and topping her for a while before he fucked her and sent her on her way with cab fare.
He hadn’t spent a lazy afternoon with any woman just looking at art or weird dog statues. And yet he’d found himself staring at the big marble dog someone in ancient Greece had carved thousands of years ago and listening to Avery’s chatter about the clean lines and perfect construction, and all he had been able to think about was the fact that maybe he was as stuck as that dog. Maybe he was carved from marble, unmoving, unchanging, and had been ever since that day he’d lost his brother.
It was stupid, but five hours with the woman and he’d relaxed more than he had in years.
But he had a job to do. “I’ve had a few accidents in my time. Working construction can be hell on a man. Sometime I’ll tell you about the hole in my back. Man versus nail gun. Nail gun won.”
He fully intended to tell her that fabrication once he got her horizontal. There was no way to miss the bullet wound he’d taken during his SAS years, but the nail gun was a convenient lie.
Her eyes widened. “That sounds horrible.”
He shrugged. “Yeah, well, I got a body covered in scars, but then who doesn’t? If you don’t have a few scars, you haven’t really lived.”
She blushed again, her whole face turning red. If he had to bet, he would say she couldn’t lie to save her life. “I know how that goes. Thank you so much for the nice day. It was good to have someone to talk to.”
She was right back to where they’d been before lunch. Wary. Cautious. For a few hours she’d been open and smiling. At one point, she’d even held his hand as a wave of people came off the Tube at Holborn. They’d been standing by the tracks, chatting about all the places she wanted to see and the things she wanted to do while she was in London, and the Tube doors had opened, busy Londoners rushing past. They’d almost been separated. Her hand had come out, seeking his, a nervous look in her eyes as though the crowd frightened her.
He’d been taken over by the oddest emotion. He’d pulled her close as the crush engulfed them, his left hand covering the back of her head and pulling her into his chest.
And now she was dismissing him without so much as another date? That wasn’t going to happen. “The day isn’t over yet.”
She frowned. “What do you want from me?”
He hadn’t expected that. He’d expected a coy invitation to come inside or a little angling for another date. “I like you.”
“You don’t really know me, and I’m not blind. There are far prettier women just walking down this street. I’ve been thinking about it all day, and I can’t figure out what you want. If you would please tell me, I’ll see if I can give it to you.”
He stared at her for a moment, trying to figure out her game. “What are you talking about?”
She sighed as though trying to find a way to say what she wanted to say. “I don’t have a lot of money but if you need some, I can give you a little.”
He crowded her, anger starting to take root in his gut. What exactly did she think he was? “You tell me what you’re talking about and you do it now, girl.”
Damn, but he’d almost lost it and gone into his Irish accent.
She trembled a little as he backed her up against the building. Her eyes flashed from right to left, looking for a little help, but everyone ignored her. Liam was counting on that. It was a big city. Unless she just flat wanted to scream for help, everyone would ignore their little scene. It was time to start showing the sub who topped whom.
“You have an idea about me, Avery, don’t you?” He was well aware his voice had gone deeper than she’d heard all day. It was the voice he used when training a sub. Hard. Unrelenting. Dominant. “Put it in plain English. I’d like to hear it.”
“You’re scaring me.” She put her hands up as though that could possibly stop him.
“And I think you’re insulting me.” He came up with two ideas she could possibly have about him. Both of them insulting. Neither of them right. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but do you think I’m indigent and need a handout?”
She huffed, her eyes on her hands. “No. Obviously not. You’re very well dressed. You obviously have money.”
So it was door number two. “And you think I get it by hustling women out of cash. You think if you invite me upstairs, you’re agreeing to have sex with me for money. Tell me something, little girl, just how much would I have charged?”