CHAPTER 22
George
‘Where have you been all morning?’ Gordon is pissed off. ‘I’ve been waiting here.’
‘I just took some time out after training. I’m here on time, aren’t I?’ I feel unnerved by the way Leo and I left this morning. After a fucking unbelievable date at La Cavalerie, she was frosty in the car, making excuses when we got to our suite and disappearing to her room.
I hadn’t planned on kissing her, certainly not telling her I wanted to fuck her. What if I scared her off?
Fuck, she felt good in my arms. Her tongue in my mouth. Her moans in my ear.
‘George!’ Gordon’s voice cuts through my thoughts. ‘What is wrong with you?’
‘Sorry.’ I shift in my seat, readjusting myself.
The meeting continues; we’re watching a tape of my first opponent next week. I’m playing against Gustav Nilsson, an older Swede, ranked 54th. It should be a shoo-in, but it’s best to be prepared. You never know what experienced players can pull off when it’s their last tournament.
I check my phone. She hasn’t texted.
I turn my attention back to the screen, and Gordon. He’s typing away on his phone.
‘What are you doing tonight?’ he asks, not looking up.
‘You arrange my schedule.’
‘OK, well you’re going to a party now. LVMH have invited us. Louis Vuitton want to dress you.’
‘Really?’
He looks at me, eyebrow raised. ‘Did you hear what I said?’
‘Yes, a party. Whatever. Fine.’ I have an idea. ‘I need a spot for Leo too. And ask Louis Vuitton to dress her as my plus one.’
Gordon baulks. ‘You can’t be serious?’
I level a glare at him. ‘You want me to go? Get her on the list.’
‘George, really? Her?’
‘Gordy, organize it. Then I’ll be there.’
I stand to leave, not bothering to explain. I’m done with this; if I can’t beat Nilsson, then I don’t deserve to progress anyway.
‘What time will Louis Vuitton be at the suite?’ I ask, wondering how much time I’ll have. I want to get Leo something. Cheer her up, although I’m still unsure what happened.
‘Four p.m., then the car is at six,’ Gordon replies, looking at the email. ‘It’s at La Cavalerie – original.’
I look up. ‘Actually?’ I hide my smile. ‘See you later.’
I jump in the lift and text Leo:
George Hampden:
Hey, this morning was great.
Are you free this evening?
She reads it, but doesn’t reply.
Entering our suite, I call out, ‘Leo?’ But nothing back.
She’s nowhere to be seen and her room sounds quiet. I knock anyway, then curse under my breath. What if she’s napping?
Moving into the main room, I look out the window and something catches my eye on Place Vend?me. I check my watch; I have time before practice . . .
——
I get back around 3 p.m. and I’m yet to hear from Leo. I’m getting anxious now that I did do something wrong. There’s no other explanation for why she’s ignoring me. I must have gone too fast.
Bracing myself to call her, I hear the door click closed softly and look up as she walks into the room. She’s showered and changed since this morning, wearing a smart pair of black trousers, a cream silk blouse tucked in. She’s in professional mode again. Sexy as hell.
‘Leo!’ I sound too eager and chide myself; calm down, George! I rise to my feet to kiss her hello, but she swerves my lips, offering a cheek.
‘Hello, George.’ She’s awful at hiding her emotions. She’s distant, like this morning never happened. ‘How was your afternoon?’
I ignore her question. ‘Did you get my text?’
‘Yes, apologies. Thank you for La Cavalerie. It was a treat.’ She’s stilted in her replies. Cold. I don’t like it.
‘Leo.’ I go to take her hands, but she backs away. ‘What’s wrong? You haven’t spoken to me all day; I thought this morning was great. Was it not?’
‘Nothing is wrong, George.’ She looks down, crossing her arms. ‘I just . . .’ She moves to the window, unable to meet my eye.
‘Just what?’ I urge gently.
‘I can’t be another one of your girls on call.’ She shrugs. ‘I’ve got to try to keep some dignity in this whole arrangement and it was a mistake to take it further. I think we need to be professional from now on.’
It sounds rehearsed. She’s been building up to this.
‘Leo, what are you talking about?’ I try to keep my voice even.
‘I just know what you’re like. I’ve seen the photos.
’ She looks resolute. ‘You go for these superhuman, gorgeous, skinny, cool models with legs for days, and I’m not that.
Far from it.’ She carries on, not taking a breath.
‘The private tennis session is a great move, so well done for that. It was a chance for you to show off, and you are so good at tennis, and you look so fucking good doing it. It’s no wonder I fell for it.
And you’re charming when you want to be.
And the way you kiss . . .’ I raise my eyebrows, trying not to smile at the compliment.
‘God, I just can’t do it, and not to mention this is so unprofessional.
You’re supposed to be my member!’ She throws her hands up.
‘Leo,’ I say firmly, but not unkindly. I go over and take her hands in mine, stroking my thumb along her palms in an attempt to calm her down. ‘I repeat. What on earth are you talking about?’
‘I’m freaking out, George. For one, I’m supposed to be working here!
I’ve never acted this way before. I had to remove myself today to get some clarity.
’ She looks nervous. ‘But mostly, I can’t be in a string of girls you keep on the go.
You’re entitled to do what you want, of course. I just can’t do it.’
What?
It’s so absurd that I bark out a laugh, then immediately regret it as she wrenches her hands from mine, walking away to her room.
I grab her hand and pull her back to me, placing my hands on her waist. ‘Leo, please listen to me.’ I really need her to know this.
‘You’re not one of many. You’re the only one.
I haven’t slept with anyone for at least the past six months, if not longer.
Those girls were a distraction, I was in a bad place.
I used them and they used me. They got something out of it too! ’
Usually more Instagram followers, but I don’t say that.
I continue, ‘I haven’t wanted to do anything, haven’t felt any kind of attraction to anyone until the moment I saw you at the tennis club, right before you ran away then too.
And I’m not sorry. It’s not a mistake for me.
’ She looks up, her green eyes sparkling in the afternoon sun filtering through the windows, reminding me of the gift waiting on the dresser.
‘I can’t stop thinking about you.’ I raise my hand, cupping her cheek softly. ‘In fact, I only think of you and have done since that moment.’ She leans into my palm and I exhale as I see her eyes soften.
‘Why?’ she asks.
‘What do you mean why?’ How can she not see what I can?
‘You can have anyone. You have a whole fan base out there!’
‘Well, I don’t want anyone. I want you.’
‘And work? Cece?’
‘Fuck them, and definitely fuck him. Prick.’ I venture a small smile. I’m so relieved when she returns it. It’s my turn to look bashful. ‘I thought I’d scared you away when you didn’t reply. Been too full on this morning.’
She blushes and I kiss her warm cheek. She sighs, body relaxing, ‘You didn’t. I’m sorry I didn’t speak to you. I had the most incredible time, honestly.’ She rises onto her tiptoes, pressing her lips softly to mine. ‘It was probably the best date I’ve ever had, actually,’ she whispers against me.
‘Oh yeah?’ I grin, kissing her back harder, warmth flooding through my body as I feel her reciprocate.
‘Yes. Without a doubt. No man has taken me to play tennis before. I was craving it, the release, and you made it happen. In the most wonderful place.’ Her blush deepens as she whispers in my ear.
‘You weren’t too hard on me either. Until you .
. .’ She gazes up at me, her eyes full of arousal; heavy, seductive.
‘Well, I don’t know what would have happened if we hadn’t been interrupted . . .’
Fuck.
‘I do,’ I say roughly. I pull her closer against my rapidly thickening cock, unable to keep my hands off her, now I know she’s OK.
Her breasts are pressed against my chest and I can feel her hardening nipples through her silky blouse.
I kiss her again, untucking her top so I can slide my hands underneath.
Her skin is warm, so smooth and soft under my calloused hands.
‘Is this OK?’ I ask, conscious of moving slower, but unable to stop unless she asks me to.
‘Yes,’ she breathes. ‘It feels good, you feel good.’
I can’t help getting onto my knees, kissing up her ribcage while unbuttoning her blouse, slowly, rising slightly to slide it off her shoulders.
‘Fuck,’ I growl, and her breath hitches.
Her spectacular tits are encased in a lacy blue bra, perfect pink nipples clearly visible through the fabric, begging to be sucked.
‘Fuck,’ I curse again, running my hands up her sides until I reach her breasts, cupping them softly while rubbing my thumb against the hard bud.
I’m still on my knees, her hands on my shoulders, and she ducks slightly, allowing me access to remove her bra.
I do, eagerly, and her tits spring free.
They’re full, delicious, rising and falling as her breaths come quicker.
‘You are so fucking hot.’ My voice is so low I barely recognize it.
She’s still slightly bent towards me and I take advantage, pressing a kiss to her chest while my hands return to her breasts.
They’re flushed with arousal, so tempting.
She moans loudly as my tongue flicks against her nipple, her hands gripping tighter onto my shoulders as pleasure shoots down my spine.
I reach down with one hand, desperate to ease some of the pressure from my raging hard-on.
I’m so turned on and she’s still half dressed.