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)
He encourages my words with a gentle nod, and I let my honesty mirror his.
“Seeing my parents for Christmas was a big enough dream on its own, but now, to be here in Belgravia, knowing I’ll be living in a place like this…” I look at him with a smile. “And not only that, being here with you tonight. The hottest hardcorer on the planet, as well as a guy who isn’t all about being one. Who wants something more, and knows what it’s like to get your heart torn out and stamped into pieces.”
He lets the door close shut, and steps up close. Then he tilts my face up to his.
“You compliment me way too easily. There are hotter hardcorers than me, Ella.”
I giggle. “Yeah, sorry. I mean Tiff is an amazing hardcorer too, she’s stunning.”
“It’s not just Tiff I’m talking about,” he says. “It’s you.”
I don’t get the chance to reply before he lands his lips on mine again, and fuck it, I go all in with the kiss. Both his keys and my bouquet go tumbling to the floor as he takes hold of my ass and hitches me up to press me up tight against his front door. It’s hot and heavy – a kiss so desperate it has us both moaning. I try to pull his tie loose, but he uses his hips to grind, hard, working his thigh between my legs until I forget all about his tie and reach for his ass instead. We’re craving more, moaning and desperate, both of us so into the groove we’re on fire, caught in the crazy mist of lust.
Until we hear a door open on the opposite side of the hallway…
Shit.
We freeze as a guy steps out of his apartment. He’s on his phone, minding his own business until he sets eyes on us. Oh fuck, the embarrassment. That’s one of Josh’s neighbours, and this is his first impression of me…
I expect him to start in shock at the two of us practically rutting against Josh’s apartment door, but he doesn’t even slow down.
“Hey,” Josh says to him, with a tip of his head.
“Hey,” he says back, walking on by, clearly not keen on striking up conversation.
I wait until he’s in the elevator until I groan.
“Shit,” I say. “Whoops for that one. Sorry.”
Josh smirks and raises his eyebrows.
“Sorry for what? Getting it on in the corridor? I wouldn’t worry about that. Christopher is well aware of the rumours. Everyone around here is.”
“Rumours about what you do for a living?”
“Yeah, we’ve got a bit of a name around here, me and Tiff. I give my hellos to the residents I cross paths with, and they all give me their overzealous grins back, or bury their heads like him, pretending they don’t know I’m a male slut for a living. Tiff gets more backchat and whispers than I do, but the whole place knows about us. They know what we do. She got drunk with a girl from apartment three one night, years ago, and it spread like wildfire. The girl’s long gone, but the rumours aren’t. It’s such common knowledge by now that the estate agents should mention it in the contracts when they sell these crazy priced apartments.” He grins. “So, congratulations. You’ll now be associated with the hardcore hookers. Apologies for that.”
“You’ll be a cool duo to be associated with.”
“You say that now, but you might not be so sure when you start getting the backchat and the late-night date offers. A tenner on offer at three in the morning when someone can’t be bothered with a handjob.”
“They can piss off with a tenner,” I laugh. “Anyone in this block can afford at least twenty.”
“You certainly won’t be short of offers. You’ll be on Belgravia’s most wanted list in no time, like Tiff is. There are at least four men in this apartment block alone who want to take her on a date. One of them wants her so bad he’s practically a stalker from three floors down.”
He picks up his keys and my flowers from the floor and hands them over to me, then opens the door without a pause this time around. Suddenly being here doesn’t seem quite so intimidating. I don’t feel quite so fake. Not such an imposter after all.
I gasp as the apartment lights come on, because it’s not like I expected in the slightest. I dunno, but with a block like this, I just assumed Josh would have gone for minimalism. Modern and bare and chic, like something from an ultimate decor magazine. But this is nothing like that. It’s still modern and upper class, with its floor to ceiling windows, but it’s so much more of a home than that.
He has a white leather suite in the living room area, scattered with purple cushions. Some brocade, contrasted with some that look like modern art rejects. One that’s fluffy, one satin. One with a big pair of red lips in the kissing position. The huge rug is a thick plush purple mixed with flashes of neon green, and he has a massive TV. But there is so much more in here than that. Big bookshelves rammed full. Shelves of trinkets right the way along one wall, with everything from a huge amethyst geode to a collection of ceramic sugar skulls. He has an antique looking globe by his sofa, and a load of plants by the windows. There are huge canvases around the place – some in graffiti style, but some with waves and marbling all over them, pouring art, I think it’s called. And gym stuff. Lots of gym stuff, all in the one corner. Weights, and a pull up bar, and a bench. A yoga mat laid out next to a treadmill, and a collection of other bits and pieces around them. Some more plants. Some more skulls. And more books, all stacked up on a side table.