Poles Apart
Page 17
“How do you get home, usually?” he questioned, running his nose along the edge of my jaw.
I whimpered because that little movement made my body ache for his. I silently wished he’d stop teasing me. If this wasn’t going to end with sex then this was going to be keeping me awake tonight like some sort of frustrated horny monster.
“Walk.” I shrugged and played with the collar of his shirt, wishing I could take it off and feel his skin on mine.
He grinned at my answer. “I’m driving you tonight.”
He’d never taken me home before. The night always finished when the club closed; I’d never once seen him outside work. “It’s fine. I’ll walk. It’s only fifteen minutes away.” I wanted to accept so badly but another part of me didn’t really want to tell him where I lived. The block of flats I lived in wasn’t exactly known for its luxury and glamour. He was a millionaire for goodness’ sake; he would probably take one look at it and think I was some sort of damaged goods because of where I came from.
“I’m driving you, Emma. Come on, let’s go.” He pushed himself up, taking my hand and helping me to my feet. I bent to grab my shoes but he scooped them up before I did, smirking at me. “You don’t really want to put those back on; they hurt your feet.”
How did he know that? I nodded. It was true, there no point in denying it. I reached for the water from the table, taking a big swig of it and wincing as it burnt my throat. I greedily shoved in a lozenge, sucking on it, trying to numb my throat a little.
He smiled sympathetically and pulled open the door to the room. “It’s just after two; the club will be closing any minute. You have something to change into so you don’t get cold?” Carson asked, slowly dragging his eyes down my body. A little smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as his gaze lingered on my cleavage.
I playfully slapped his chest lightly as I followed him out of the room. “Pervert,” I scolded.
Suddenly, I realised what he said and I winced. I came here in tracksuit bottoms and a hoodie, and not nice ones either! I couldn’t let him see me in that, but then again, I couldn’t exactly go outside in my uniform; I’d freeze to death or catch pneumonia or something.
“I’m going to go settle my tab. You go get changed and meet me by the bar, okay?” he instructed, holding out my shoes to me.
I bit my lip and reluctantly nodded before heading to the dressing rooms at the back. Once there, I took off my uniform, leaving it in my locker, and pulled on the crappy clothes I’d come in tonight. I looked at myself in the mirror and grimaced at my reflection. I looked awful. My hair was frizzy and sticking out everywhere because of being asleep, and my mascara had smudged under my eyes, giving me a panda look. I was in baggy, grey tracksuit bottoms, dirty trainers, and one of Rory’s black hoodies.
Finding a pack of baby wipes on the side, I dragged one under my eyes to wipe the smudges away, and then ran my fingers through my hair, attempting to tame it a little. When I looked a little less like a homeless person, I grabbed my phone, purse and keys, and headed out to find Carson.
AS I ENTERED THE MAIN ROOM of the club, my eyes settled on Carson immediately. He was sitting on a stool at the bar, chatting to Jason about racing. I touched his back as I got level with him, holding my breath, waiting for him to laugh at the way I looked and withdraw his offer of a lift.
He smiled down at me, his face not dropping like I was expecting. “Hey, all ready?” he asked, slipping his arm around my shoulder as he stood up.
I nodded and looked at Jason. “See you tomorrow night.”
“Yep. G’night, Emma. Good night, Mr Matthews,” Jason replied, smirking at me knowingly.
I blushed because of his accusing look. Did he think I was taking Carson home with me tonight? He knew how I felt about him, and he knew we had Sasha. I guess it did look a little like I was taking him back to continue the night.
Carson frowned, looking at me with hard eyes before his hand closed over mine and he gave me a little tug toward the exit. I smiled and followed him out, both of us stopping at the coat desk in the foyer. He handed Jasmine, the desk clerk, a little orange ticket before turning to me. “No jacket?” he asked. I shook my head in answer, watching a disapproving frown line his forehead. He didn’t say anything else, just took hold of my hips, lifting me effortlessly to sit on the desk.
Jasmine came back a few seconds later, holding out a black leather jacket and black helmet.
I looked at the items curiously. Helmet? Wait, oh, God no! He came here by motorbike? Is he seriously expecting me to ride on a freaking motorbike with him? My eyes widened as he pushed the helmet onto my head, his hands instantly going to the straps at the bottom of my chin.
“No. No way! Not happening, baby!” I cried, trying to pull it back off, but he held fast, pinning it on my head.
“It’s happening, Emma,” he said sternly. “I’m not letting you walk home in the dark on your own while you’re sick.”
I gulped as I heard the ominous click of the chinstrap. The helmet was a lot heavier than it looked. “I always walk home; it’s not a problem,” I countered, my voice slightly muffled because of the helmet going around my face. He smiled and grabbed the leather jacket, holding it out for me to put my arms through. I pushed it back toward him; he was only wearing a shirt so he needed that, not me. “I’ve got a jumper. You wear that.”
“Stop being so bloody stubborn. Put the jacket on and let’s get you home. I’ve wanted to drive you home for a long time, but usually I drink so I can’t. Well, tonight I can.” He smiled and grabbed my hand, forcing it into the sleeve of the jacket.
I whimpered because that little movement made my body ache for his. I silently wished he’d stop teasing me. If this wasn’t going to end with sex then this was going to be keeping me awake tonight like some sort of frustrated horny monster.
“Walk.” I shrugged and played with the collar of his shirt, wishing I could take it off and feel his skin on mine.
He grinned at my answer. “I’m driving you tonight.”
He’d never taken me home before. The night always finished when the club closed; I’d never once seen him outside work. “It’s fine. I’ll walk. It’s only fifteen minutes away.” I wanted to accept so badly but another part of me didn’t really want to tell him where I lived. The block of flats I lived in wasn’t exactly known for its luxury and glamour. He was a millionaire for goodness’ sake; he would probably take one look at it and think I was some sort of damaged goods because of where I came from.
“I’m driving you, Emma. Come on, let’s go.” He pushed himself up, taking my hand and helping me to my feet. I bent to grab my shoes but he scooped them up before I did, smirking at me. “You don’t really want to put those back on; they hurt your feet.”
How did he know that? I nodded. It was true, there no point in denying it. I reached for the water from the table, taking a big swig of it and wincing as it burnt my throat. I greedily shoved in a lozenge, sucking on it, trying to numb my throat a little.
He smiled sympathetically and pulled open the door to the room. “It’s just after two; the club will be closing any minute. You have something to change into so you don’t get cold?” Carson asked, slowly dragging his eyes down my body. A little smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as his gaze lingered on my cleavage.
I playfully slapped his chest lightly as I followed him out of the room. “Pervert,” I scolded.
Suddenly, I realised what he said and I winced. I came here in tracksuit bottoms and a hoodie, and not nice ones either! I couldn’t let him see me in that, but then again, I couldn’t exactly go outside in my uniform; I’d freeze to death or catch pneumonia or something.
“I’m going to go settle my tab. You go get changed and meet me by the bar, okay?” he instructed, holding out my shoes to me.
I bit my lip and reluctantly nodded before heading to the dressing rooms at the back. Once there, I took off my uniform, leaving it in my locker, and pulled on the crappy clothes I’d come in tonight. I looked at myself in the mirror and grimaced at my reflection. I looked awful. My hair was frizzy and sticking out everywhere because of being asleep, and my mascara had smudged under my eyes, giving me a panda look. I was in baggy, grey tracksuit bottoms, dirty trainers, and one of Rory’s black hoodies.
Finding a pack of baby wipes on the side, I dragged one under my eyes to wipe the smudges away, and then ran my fingers through my hair, attempting to tame it a little. When I looked a little less like a homeless person, I grabbed my phone, purse and keys, and headed out to find Carson.
AS I ENTERED THE MAIN ROOM of the club, my eyes settled on Carson immediately. He was sitting on a stool at the bar, chatting to Jason about racing. I touched his back as I got level with him, holding my breath, waiting for him to laugh at the way I looked and withdraw his offer of a lift.
He smiled down at me, his face not dropping like I was expecting. “Hey, all ready?” he asked, slipping his arm around my shoulder as he stood up.
I nodded and looked at Jason. “See you tomorrow night.”
“Yep. G’night, Emma. Good night, Mr Matthews,” Jason replied, smirking at me knowingly.
I blushed because of his accusing look. Did he think I was taking Carson home with me tonight? He knew how I felt about him, and he knew we had Sasha. I guess it did look a little like I was taking him back to continue the night.
Carson frowned, looking at me with hard eyes before his hand closed over mine and he gave me a little tug toward the exit. I smiled and followed him out, both of us stopping at the coat desk in the foyer. He handed Jasmine, the desk clerk, a little orange ticket before turning to me. “No jacket?” he asked. I shook my head in answer, watching a disapproving frown line his forehead. He didn’t say anything else, just took hold of my hips, lifting me effortlessly to sit on the desk.
Jasmine came back a few seconds later, holding out a black leather jacket and black helmet.
I looked at the items curiously. Helmet? Wait, oh, God no! He came here by motorbike? Is he seriously expecting me to ride on a freaking motorbike with him? My eyes widened as he pushed the helmet onto my head, his hands instantly going to the straps at the bottom of my chin.
“No. No way! Not happening, baby!” I cried, trying to pull it back off, but he held fast, pinning it on my head.
“It’s happening, Emma,” he said sternly. “I’m not letting you walk home in the dark on your own while you’re sick.”
I gulped as I heard the ominous click of the chinstrap. The helmet was a lot heavier than it looked. “I always walk home; it’s not a problem,” I countered, my voice slightly muffled because of the helmet going around my face. He smiled and grabbed the leather jacket, holding it out for me to put my arms through. I pushed it back toward him; he was only wearing a shirt so he needed that, not me. “I’ve got a jumper. You wear that.”
“Stop being so bloody stubborn. Put the jacket on and let’s get you home. I’ve wanted to drive you home for a long time, but usually I drink so I can’t. Well, tonight I can.” He smiled and grabbed my hand, forcing it into the sleeve of the jacket.
