Chapter Nineteen
Waking up tangled in Victoria Sullivan's sheets was both thrilling and absolutely terrifying in equal measure. Sasha’s thigh muscles burned with the memory of last night, and she could feel herself warming, ready to begin again, ready to spend all day in bed and to forget everything and everyone else.
But Victoria was still asleep, her dark hair spread across the pillow and one arm thrown across Sasha's waist with casual possession. In sleep, she looked softer somehow, less like the perfectly composed banker and more like someone who might occasionally admit to having actual human emotions.
Sasha carefully extracted herself, trying not to wake her. She needed air, space, and possibly a very cold shower to process what had just happened and calm herself down a little, and to stop her jumping Victoria over breakfast.
Last night had been… Christ, last night had been spectacular.
Multiple times. Victoria Sullivan, it turned out, was as thorough in bed as she was in everything else.
Also surprisingly vocal, which had been both incredibly hot and mildly terrifying given the paper-thin walls and the family sleeping mere meters away.
There had been many hands clamped over many mouths, not to mention many hands in many other places.
She quickly showered and pulled on yesterday's clothes, slipping out of the room, leaving Victoria to sleep. And before she realized what was happening, another kind of excitement bubbled in her stomach. She was looking forward to getting outside, looking forward to being in the gardens. It was an odd feeling that, to look forward to doing something in the morning. A feeling she wasn’t sure she’d had before.
The gardens were quiet in the early morning light, dew still clinging to the grass.
Cathy was already at work among the vegetable beds, and Sasha found herself gravitating toward the familiar comfort of plants that didn't ask complicated questions. And that definitely didn’t remind her of Victoria.
Although those tomatoes were looking a wee bit suggestive, now that she thought about it.
"Morning," Cathy said without looking up. "You're up early."
"Couldn't sleep," Sasha lied.
"Right." Cathy's grin was knowing. "Nothing to do with a certain tall brunette then?"
"Absolutely nothing."
"Course not." Cathy handed her a trowel. "Here, make yourself useful. Those marrows need staking."
Sasha threw herself into the work with perhaps more enthusiasm than was strictly necessary. There was something deeply satisfying about the methodical task of tying vines, about working with her hands and watching things grow. It felt real in a way that very little in her life had recently.
"You're good at this," Cathy observed after a while. "Put me out of a job soon."
"Thanks." Sasha secured another vine. "I've been thinking about maybe taking some courses when I get back. Horticulture or something."
"You should. You've got the touch for it."
Just then, there was the sound of Archie walking through the nearby kitchen garden, his voice loud over the phone as he gave someone directions to the house.
Presumably yet another woman. Sasha wondered where he met them.
Surely not on Tinder? Maybe rich people had their own version of Tinder. Then she caught sight of Cathy’s face.
"He’s an idiot," she said.
"Maybe." Cathy's voice was resigned. "Though you might have a point about me being less invisible. Maybe you’re right that he’s just so used to me that he can’t see me."
Sasha straightened, an idea forming. "What if you weren't invisible?"
"What?"
"What if you… I don't know. Changed things up? Made him actually see you?" She was warming to the idea.
Cathy snorted. "What, like a makeover? This isn't one of those films where the girl takes off her glasses and suddenly she's irresistible."
"I'm not saying glasses. I'm saying maybe stop hiding." Sasha gestured at Cathy's practical work clothes. "You're gorgeous. You're smart. You know this estate better than anyone. Maybe it's time to remind Archie of that. And a makeover is about more than taking off glasses."
"Right. Because that's not terrifying at all."
"Terrifying is watching him parade inappropriate women through here for the rest of your life."
Cathy was quiet, chewing her lip. "I'll think about it," she said finally. "No promises."
"Fine."
They worked in comfortable silence for a while longer, until Sasha heard footsteps behind her. She turned to find Victoria approaching, looking slightly rumpled and entirely too attractive in casual trousers and a loose shirt.
"Morning," Victoria said, her voice carefully neutral. "Thought I might find you here."
"Couldn't sleep," Sasha repeated, acutely aware of Cathy watching them with undisguised interest.
"Mmm." Victoria's eyes were dark, unreadable. "I should get back to, er… work."
"Right. Work." Sasha felt something twist in her chest. Of course. Back to reality, back to pretending last night hadn't fundamentally shifted something between them.
Victoria turned to leave, then paused. "Actually, I might… could you show me the potting shed? It’s just that… um, father mentioned some new orchid varieties and I thought…"
"Of course," Sasha said, recognizing the flimsy excuse for what it was. "This way."
Cathy made a sound that was either a muffled sneeze or a very ill-disguised laugh.
THE POTTING SHED was dim and cool, smelling of earth and growing things. The moment the door closed behind them, Victoria was on her, pressing her back against the flimsy wall with single-minded determination.
"Work?" Sasha managed between kisses, feeling her knees start to get weak.
"Can wait." Victoria's mouth moved to her neck. "This can't."
Sasha's hands found Victoria's waist, pulling her closer. "Anyone could walk in."
"Then we'd better be quick."
Sasha bucked her hips against Victoria’s, thinking that it would be hard to be anything but quick, her breath was already hurried, she was already hot on the inside, muscles beginning to contract.
Quick turned out to be relative. Victoria's hands were sliding under Sasha's shirt when the door creaked open and Sir Archibald's voice cut through the haze.
"Just checking the… oh." A pause. "The fertilizer. Yes. Definitely need to… check that. Elsewhere."
The door shut with a decisive click.
Sasha and Victoria sprang apart, both breathing hard. Victoria's hair was mussed, her shirt untucked, and Sasha was fairly certain she looked equally debauched.
"Did your dad just…"
"Pretend he saw nothing? Yes." Victoria was laughing despite herself, a genuine sound that made Sasha's chest warm. "Very sporting of him, really."
"Christ, that was close."
"Was it?" Victoria's smile was wicked as she straightened her clothes. "I rather thought the timing was perfect. Any later, and things might have gotten significantly more difficult to explain."
"You're terrible."
"You like it." Victoria pressed one more quick kiss to her mouth. "But lesson learned. I do have work to do. Tonight?"
"Tonight," Sasha agreed, already counting the hours.
DINNER THAT EVENING was an exercise in restraint. Sasha sat across from Victoria, hyperaware of every glance, every small movement. Under the table, her foot found Victoria's ankle, a subtle pressure that made Victoria's breath catch.
Ambrose was practically glowing, talking animatedly about garden improvements and looking dreamy in a way that suggested Lukas had returned from his plant-collecting trip with interesting results.
"—and Lukas thinks we could expand the herb garden significantly," Ambrose was saying. "He's got all these ideas about companion planting and natural pest control."
"Fascinating," Sasha murmured, not really listening. Victoria had just run her tongue across her bottom lip, and Sasha's brain had stopped functioning entirely.
"Are you alright?" Sophie asked. "You look a bit flushed."
"Just warm," Sasha managed. "Think I might be getting a headache, actually."
Victoria's eyes met hers across the table, dark with understanding and promise.
"I should probably get to bed early," Sasha continued, standing up. "Before it gets worse."
"Of course, dear," Lady Charlotte said. "Do rest up."
Sasha excused herself, very aware of Victoria's gaze following her from the room. She climbed the stairs slowly, anticipation building with each step.
Five minutes later, the bedroom door opened, and Victoria slipped inside, locking it behind her with deliberate care.
"Headache?" Victoria's smile was dangerous.
"Terrible one," Sasha said, backing toward the bed. "Might need someone to take my mind off it."
"I think I can help with that." Victoria crossed the room in three strides, and Sasha found herself pulled into a kiss that made her knees weak yet again.
They tumbled onto the bed, hands already working at buttons and zips with increasing urgency. Last night had been about release, about finally giving in to days of tension. Tonight was different, slower, more deliberate, learning each other properly without the desperate edge.
Victoria's mouth traced patterns across Sasha's skin, pausing to bite and kiss and taste until Sasha was trembling beneath her. When Victoria settled between her thighs, Sasha had to bite down on her own hand to muffle the sounds threatening to escape.
"Quiet," Victoria murmured against sensitive skin, and Sasha could feel her smile. "Can’t have everyone knowing our little secret."
Sasha’s insides turned molten. Secrets, secrets, there were so many of them in this house. But she couldn’t bring herself to care about them. Not as Victoria’s tongue started to lap at her, not as her stomach started to clench, not as her hips started to rise and her blood started to pound.
Later, when they lay together, Sasha's head on Victoria's shoulder and Victoria's fingers tracing lazy patterns on her back, Sasha felt something settle in her chest that had nothing to do with sexual satisfaction and everything to do with the terrifying realization that this was becoming significantly more than just a summer fling.
Now just when in the hell had that happened?