Oh, no. I’ll take the fuck, but I’m still not going to The Manor. Although, if he starts fucking his so called sense into me, then I’m screwed in more than one way. He can make me say anything. Well, he can do that pretty much all of the time, but especially during a sense fuck.
I hear the front door crash open and the laughter of Kate and Sam coming up the stairs. I look down at Jesse still clamped around my nipple, the frustration marring his face having me secretly pleased. While I’d take a sense fuck anytime, the sense he aims on fucking into me, on this particular occasion, makes no sense at all. Why would I want to set myself up for a verbal spar with Sarah?
He huffs childishly, releasing my nipple. ‘I don’t suppose you can keep your mouth shut while I fuck some sense into you?’
I raise my eyebrows. He knows that’s impossible.
‘For fucks sake.’ he grumbles, pushing himself up, making a point of brushing his knee up the inside of my thigh and over my moist centre. The friction has me wanting to yank him back down to me. I don’t want him to go. He leans down and kisses me hard and purposefully. ‘I’ve got to go. When I call you tomorrow, you’ll answer the phone.’
‘I will.’ I confirm obediently. God help me if I don’t.
He smiles darkly and grabs my hip. I squeal like a little girl and flip myself onto my front. Then I feel the sting of his palm meeting my backside.
‘Ouch!’
‘Sarcasm doesn’t suit you, lady.’ The bed shifts as he gets up.
When I turn over, his shirt is on his back and he’s working the buttons. ‘Will Sarah be at The Manor?’ I blurt, before my brain filters the stupid question.
He pauses briefly before picking up his boxers and stepping into them. ‘I hope so, she works for me.’
What? ‘You said she was a friend.’ I sound whinny. I mentally slap myself for it.
He frowns. ‘Yes, she’s a friend and she works for me.’
Marvelous. I roll out of bed and find my vest and shorts. No wonder she’s always loitering about. Should I tell him that she’s warned me off? No, he probably wouldn’t appreciate immature, petty jealousies. God, I hate that woman. I yank my vest and shorts on, and turn to find Jesse pulling his suit jacket on. He’s watching me thoughtfully. Does he know what I’m thinking?
‘Are you going to put some clothes on?’ he asks, looking me up and down.
I look down at my shorts and vest combo and back up to him. His eyebrows are raised. ‘I’m at home.’
‘Yes, and Sam’s out there.’
‘Sam doesn’t seem to think anything of walking around in his pants. At least I’m covered.’
‘Sam’s an exhibitionist.’ he grumbles, walking over to my wardrobe and flicking through the rails. ‘Here, put this on.’ He hands me a chunky knit, oversized, cream jumper.
‘No!’ I splutter in disgust. I’ll pass out of overheating!
He thrusts it closer to me with a determined, dirty look. ‘Put the jumper on.’
‘No.’ I say it slowly and concisely. He’s not dictating my wardrobe, especially not when I’m at home. I snatch the jumper from him and throw it on the bed, watching as he follows its path through the air. He looks at it sprawled on the bed, then slowly returns his eyes to mine. His teeth are going ten to the dozen, chewing his bottom lip.
‘Three,’ he grates.
My eyes widen. ‘Are you winding me up?’
He ignores me. ‘Two,’
I still don’t know what happens at zero, but it looks like I’m going to find out. ‘I’m not putting the jumper on.’
‘One,’ His lips press into a straight line of displeasure.
‘Do what you like, Jesse. I’m not putting that jumper on.’
His eyes narrow. ‘Zero,’
We stand opposite each other, him with an expression of genuine fury mixed with a bit of delight, and me wondering what the hell he’s going to do now that he’s reached zero. I scan the room, looking for an escape, but there’s only one, and I have to get past Jesse to make it there. What are the chances of that?