Page 46 of From LA to London, With Love

He grabbed the roots of my hair at the back of my head. I let out a strangled moan, the heat of desire engulfing me. His abs were pressed against me, and my hands were under his tuxedo jacket, feeling the muscles on his back.

We were so caught up in the moment, we didn’t notice the limo had arrived until the driver got out of the car and coughed loudly, opening the door. Heat shot up my face as we disentangled ourselves.

Chris turned to me. “So…would you like to come back to my place?” His face flushed as well. “Or I can drop you home, if you’d prefer?”

“Your place,” I said with conviction. There was no doubt in my mind, I wanted to go to his place. His bed more specifically.

The ride back to the Castle was agony. The air between us was charged with electricity, but we were in unspoken agreement that we shouldn’t subject the poor driver to any more PDA, so we sat chastely, holding hands. I could not stop thinking about that kiss, and what was going to happen next.

“I’ve been wanting to kiss you ever since you crashed into me,” Chris murmured, leaning close to my ear.

I inhaled his cedar forest scent giddily. He’d been interested in me since the first day we met?

“I didn’t realize ramming someone with a pram was a seduction technique. I’ll keep that in mind next time I want to pick someone up,” I said teasingly.

“Next time?” Chris asked, raising an eyebrow. “Hmmmm.”

“I was attracted to you from the get-go, but my feelings really hit that night we did karaoke together. Only unlike you, the hit was just figurative rather than literal. You walked into the room and—wham!” I slapped my hand to my heart.

“I thought I felt something that night. I’m glad it wasn’t all in my head.” Chris smiled at me, and my stomach, which had been roiling in anticipation, jumped.

After what felt like an eternity of back seat whispers and hands that were itching to explore each other, the limo pulled up at the Castle. As soon as we’d farewelled the driver, we bounded up the front stairs, practically fell through the doorway, and picked up from where we had left off in the street.

“Why don’t we go to the couch,” Chris gasped in between kisses, walking me backwards out of the hallway and into the living room. He sat on the couch and pulled me on top of him, straddling him.

Hands on his firm pecs, I leaned over him, and we continued to kiss, tasting each other, biting each other's lips. He teased my neck and then my earlobe with his mouth, sending shudders of delight through me. I wanted him so bad.

With trembling hands, I started unbuttoning his shirt, and he began unzipping my dress. His hand slid down my back, holding the zip, and then stopped suddenly. He tugged. It didn’t move.

Oh god, please let the zipper not be stuck again. Now is seriously not the time.

His brow furrowed, and an intense look of concentration flashed across his face. I let out a deep breath as his hands started moving, and then the top of my dress slipped off with ease, revealing the black strapless bra underneath. I was so glad I’d worn decent underwear this time. He pulled the dress over my head with one swoop and threw it off.

“Oh shit,” he muttered.

I followed his gaze to the corner of the room. The dress had landed on top of the large antique vase, which wobbled precariously. I held my breath. Thankfully, it righted itself.

He looked back at me, taking my body all in. I reached the last button on his shirt, my hands tantalizingly close to his groin, and peeled it open.

Holy shit, this man is ripped. Even sitting down, I could see every ab in high definition.

He flipped me onto the couch so I lay lengthways, kissing my neck before making his way to my collarbone. A moan escaped my mouth. Fuck, I wanted him so bad. I grabbed the back of his head, pulling his hair. His breath was ragged as he continued his journey down my body, kissing my breasts and then my stomach. I could feel him, pressing hard against my body. I’d never felt desire this intense, this raw, this all-consuming before. My hands clawed his back.

And then he muttered something.

I couldn’t hear him clearly with his face pressed against my stomach, but I distinctly heard the word “chocolate.”

I stiffened. All the tingling, all the desire, vanished.

Memories of those offensive messages I used to get from guys on dating apps, comparing me to caramel and honey, all the sleazy requests for threesomes and pictures of my boobs, all those dick pics and terrible first dates, came flooding back.

My vagina clenched, and not in a good way.

“Is everything okay?” Chris peered up at me, his eyes deep with concern.

My throat constricted. I struggled to sit up, suddenly feeling very exposed.

“Sophie, what’s going on? Did I do something? Please, talk to me.” He sat next to me on the sofa.