That One Moment (Lost in London #2) (25 page)

I turn to Bruce. “How do I look?” I ask, tossing my hands out to show off my outfit. He huffs and drops his head back down on his pillow. I took him on a good long walk after work today, so he’s properly knackered now. “Much help you are,” I grumble.

Just as I finish tying my laces, my buzzer goes off. I jog over and breathe, “Hiya,” into the monitor like a smiling loon.

“Oi Vi, let us up…We gotta talk to ya.”

I frown. “Camden?”

“‘Course it’s fuckin’ Camden…and Tanner. Who else would it be?”

My heart drops. Hayden should be here soon, and the last thing I need is for him to get a glimpse of the Harris brothers. He’s so not ready for that. Panicking that Hayden could be walking up at any moment, I buzz them up.

Shit, shit, shit!
How am I going to get rid of them? What the hell do they need?
As the lift doors open, my two owly brothers are standing face to face, arguing as usual. They are kind of a hilarious sight. One is a clean-cut, playboy-looking type. The other is a scruffier slacker-boy. But their faces are similar, so it’s quite comical.

“That is your perception of how the night went. You are off your bloody rocker, bro,” Tanner challenges.

“I’m about to fucking pummel you in the face if you don’t watch your tone.” A vein in Camden’s neck bulges angrily.

“Oi, oi, oi! What’s the problem here?” I stand with my hands on my hips, greeting them in the foyer. I don’t want them coming in and making themselves comfortable. This is a quick fix and then I’m sending them on their way.

Tanner looks to me and flicks his head back to get his blond hair out of his eyes. “Here’s what happened, Vi. We were at a club last night, right? And all these little slappers were flocking on us like flies on shit.”

“Tanner!” I snap.

“What?” he asks, looking at me in confusion.

“First of all…you’re disgusting. Second of all…women, not little slappers. These are females who deserve your respect. I don’t care how loose they are,” I reprimand.

“All right, all right.
Women
,” he groans with his jaw jutted out defiantly. “Hell, they could be Kate fucking Middleton for all I care. Anyway, this gorgeous redhead is on me. Like super on me. I’m already thinking, ‘I got this in the bag.’”

My eyes close in pain over where I see this story going.

“And I was about to seal the deal, but I had to nip off to the loo because I’d been drinking a lot and needed to piss. But suddenly, before I left…I got nervous…because I could tell Camden was sniffin’ about.”

“I wasn’t sniffin’ about! Your slapper…
woman
…” Camden corrects when I cut my eyes at him, “…was eyeing me like she could see my package through my trousers. I can’t help that, bro! She liked what she saw.”

Tanner rolls his eyes and continues. “Anyway, I can see Camden has ideas, so I think bacon sandwich, right?”

“Bacon sandwich?” I ask, my brows puzzling.

“Yeah, like…lick my bacon sandwich and then it’s mine and no one can touch it.”

My jaw drops. “Is the bacon sandwich the woman in this story?”

“All right, you got it now!” Tanner crows proudly. “So I lean in and give my bacon sandwich a good lick. She liked it too, let me tell you. You can always tell when the flavour suits them. She was into my flavour, Vi. So I nip off to the toilet and when I come back, Camden is all over her. Like, they are practically having sex on the couch. His tongue was so far down her throat I thought she was going to need resuscitating!”

“I took her breath away, all right,” Camden jeers with a naughty twinkle in his eyes. I stare at him, clearly not impressed.

“Fuckin’ wanker,” Tanner mumbles. “He was wrong, right, Vi? I mean. Bacon sandwich rule…Clearly he was wrong!”

“All is fair in love and redheads, mate.” Camden pats Tanner on the shoulder, and Tanner swings back and shoves him away from him. This only makes Camden laugh harder.

Sighing heavily, I close my eyes shut before I say, “I am not even sure where to begin with this ridiculous story and your appalling behavior. For starters, bacon sandwich rule…not a thing!”

“What do you mean?” Tanner barks.

“I mean…that is not a thing. If you’re talking about humans, then the bacon sandwich idea is horrifying on many levels. Moreover, Camden, get your own girls and stop interfering with Tanner just to get a rise out of him.”

“I can’t help it if—” he starts, but I cut him off.

“They don’t like you better. You’re just a pig. You’re both pigs. You both need to stop looking at women like conquests and start treating them with respect. If I was that redhead and a couple of horrid blokes like you two were talking about me like this, how would you feel?”

Both their faces drop.

“Exactly. Bugger!” I snap. “This disappoints me. Like I taught you guys nothing growing up.”

“Vi, these women know what they’re getting from us. We don’t make them any promises,” Camden argues.

“I don’t care. I can’t hear any more of this. Seriously. You guys need to leave.” I push the door to my lift and it opens instantly. I point.

“But Vi,” Tanner starts, his face crestfallen.

“No…you need to go. I’m so sad to hear you talk about women like this. I won’t forget it.”

“Vi, come off it,” Camden cajoles and tries to pull me under his arm, but I resist his embrace.

“Talk to me about your women troubles when you each find someone who makes you feel something north of your damn penises.”

My phone dings in my hand and I see a text from Hayden that he’s on his way. I hustle my twin brothers out of my flat with their tails tucked properly between their legs. Good. Serves them right. I’m tired of them talking about women like they are candy to quarrel over.

I rush into the bathroom and give myself one final once-over. Then, I grab my clutch and denim jacket, and hop into the lift. As I descend, I can’t help but hope that my brothers someday find girls who make them feel giddy and excited like I feel right now.

I stride out to find a relaxed Hayden leaning against the opposite brick wall. I glance up and down the alley nervously and exhale when I see no sign of my brothers. My heart does a double beat as I look back at him and take in his muscled, denim clad leg tossed over the other. Hayden Clarke takes jeans to a whole new level. Every pair he wears is fitted and slim, but faded and masculine in all the right places. Today, the bottoms are cuffed, revealing really sexy leather boots. My eyes move up to find him in one of his standard half-buttoned, grey, blended shirts. It’s pulled tightly across his lean chest, and his sleeves are pushed up on his arms, revealing his manly blonde fuzz-covered forearms and the standard leather cuffs and watch that I hardly notice anymore.

“Fuck, Bunny,” Hayden groans under his breath, lustfully eyeing my legs. “Probably a good thing you didn’t play football.”

“And why is that?” I ask, putting my hand on my hip in defiance.

He shrugs his shoulders. “You’ve seen footballers’ legs. Why mess with perfection?”

I shake my head and accept his ridiculously cheesy compliment as he pulls me in for a sensual kiss. “Miss me?” I ask, giggling as he tries to stop me from pulling away.

“You could say that.” His eyes are hooded as he bites his lower lip.

He sighs heavily and grabs my hand in his as we make our way over to Pizza East located in an old tea warehouse near my neighbourhood. I’ve been here a few times for take away. It’s got a cosy cavernous feel on the inside. Furthermore, the wood oven and comfort of the home style foods they serve make it the perfect place for a relaxed evening out.

We order a couple of pizzas to split, and Hayden balks when I ask for an Italian soda. “You can get wine,” he mumbles, frustration radiating off his stiff posture.

“Oi! You need to start letting me make my own choices. I’m not that big of a drinker, Hayden.” I take the glass bottle of grape soda from the bloke behind the counter. “Can you get him one too? He needs a bit of cheer. What kind do you want?”

Hayden frowns and then grumbles, “Strawberry.”

I conceal my snicker as the man hands him the bottle of pink liquid. “Nice choice.”

Hayden sullenly takes a sip. “It’s bloody good too.” A grin splits across his face and he winks at me. We both laugh and make our way to a cosy red booth by the wall covered with wood logs for the pizza oven.

“I noticed that you didn’t drink much at Club Shay, actually.” Hayden says after we settle into our seats.

I nod feeling slightly pleased that he was watching me so closely that night. I did everything in my power not to look at him and it obviously worked. “I like an occasional drink, but I prefer to keep my wits about me when I’m around a lot of people.”

Hayden narrows his eyes at me. “Did you have your wits about you when you were giving Ethan all that sodding attention?”

My jaw drops in mock indignation. “You’re one to talk. I seem to remember you receiving a proper snog from Julie!”

He flinches. “That was…awkward. I only danced with her so I could keep an eye on you. But she pounced on me like a tiger in heat.”

I laugh at that visual imagery. “You were keeping an eye on me?” I shoot him a coy look.

“Bloody hell right I was,” he barks, knitting his brows at me. “You were killing me the whole night. Looking the way you looked. Christ. I didn’t think anything could top the white dress you wore the night of the gala, but red is definitely your colour.”

I giggle happily, his compliments blooming inside my heart.

“Then you barely looked at me after we got inside the club, never mind speaking to me,” Hayden adds with a growl. “It was fucking torture.”

“Well, you tortured me on my rooftop if you recall,” I rebound, still somewhat smarting over the number of times he tried to walk away from me.

He blanches, his face turning serious. “I know, Vi. The only thing I can say to that is that my feelings for you…surprised me. I’m not sure I was ready for them. And you’re just so good and kind and pure. I was terrified of ruining you. I still am sometimes.”

I frown and shake my head defensively. “I’m not as perfect as you’re building me up to be in your head, Hayden. You want me to stop treating you like you’re fragile—I want you to stop treating me like I’m Her Majesty the Queen. I’m far from it.” I laugh as I think of a way to prove my point. “I was the type of kid who played hide and seek and yelled to the seeker where I was hiding! Kids hated playing with me on the playground because I never played games the way everyone else did.”

He roars with laughter at my sudden light-hearted change of tone. Despite my urgency over breaking his twisted view of me, this reaction still pleases me, so I continue. “It’s true. I’m always going to be that person who never quite gets it all done perfectly. I might send a gift, but it won’t be wrapped. I might remember your birthday, but you probably won’t get a card. I might want to send out Christmas cards myself, but I just won’t ever get it done. I’m not crafty…at all. Pinterest looks like prison to me. I’m probably going to over-bake the biscuits the one time of year when someone actually needs them for something. Even though I love cooking, I love picking up take away just as much. But I’ll probably call ahead and go to the wrong shop first. I’ll always be home late because I’m a horrible judge of time—”

“If you’re trying to put me off, you’re failing miserably, Vi,” Hayden interrupts. His brow is furrowed and there’s an oddly serious heaviness to his posture.

“Aren’t you listening?” I exclaim. “I’m a mess.”

He shakes his head and slides out of the booth to tuck himself in next to me. He rests one arm on the back of the booth and cups my cheek with his other hand. My eyes flutter closed as I become intoxicated by the overwhelming sawdust and shower scent that’s so deliciously Hayden.

A secretive grin plays on the corners of his mouth. “Everything you said sounds utterly charming, deliriously adorable, and…because it’s about you…sexy as fuck.”

I roll my eyes. “You’re hopeless.”

Without warning, he holds my face in place and presses his lips mine. “I am hopelessly falling for you, Vi Harris.”

My chest shudders at his declaration. “Feeling’s mutual, Hayden Clarke,” I reply on a swoony sigh that would embarrass me if only I gave a shit right now. Bloody hell, Hayden wanting me more after unloading that lot is a turn on of epic proportions.

After we devour our pizzas and more fizzy bubbles of Italian soda, we walk hand-in-hand to the cinema that sits only a couple of blocks away from my flat. Grabbing two seats in the far back row of the nearly empty cinema, we cuddle up, preparing for a simple movie-watching experience.

I’m not sure who started it or what atmospheric shift occurred, but somewhere along the way, things changed. Hayden’s grip on my hand shifted ever so slightly, and I knew instantly that he was no longer focusing on the flick.

I turn and our eyes connect in the dim, flickering theatre lights. Biting my lip, I get turned on watching his eyes on my mouth. A hunger, thick and rich, implodes inside of me when he releases my hand and moves his warm touch to my bare legs. I could scream with joy that there’s nobody sitting anywhere near us when I brazenly uncross my legs.

I’ve never been sexually promiscuous. Like, ever. I had never even seen the majority of the things at Leslie’s hen night party. I also never would have called myself an exhibitionist, but what’s happening to my body right now is not up for debate. It’s intense and heavy and I want it right the fuck now.

“Vi?” Hayden whispers my name in question, tickling my inner thighs.

I bite my lip and nod shamelessly as I shift down in my seat. I snatch my denim jacket off the chair next to me and toss it over my legs to conceal the place that his hand is currently en dangerous route to. Definitely a place I wouldn’t normally have opened for visitors in the middle of a public theatre, but fuck a duck, this is Hayden we’re talking about. I drop my head back on the chair and turn to him to whisper in his ear. “I need you, Hayden. Right now.”

He clears his throat and my inner thigh muscles clench with satisfaction at his blatantly ruffled feathers. He slides down in his seat a bit too, allowing him better access, and resumes his travelling pursuit between my thighs. His finger tips are firm and slightly rough, only further intensifying all of my sensations. They finally reach my centre and he begins stroking me through the flimsy fabric of my thong. I stifle a moan and grab his wrist aggressively just as he pinches my clit. He freezes and tenses, but I’m not worried about him right now. I maintain my ironclad grip on his leather cuff, doing my best to gain control over myself. Finally, when I think I can handle more without screaming out in ecstasy, I release his wrist and trail my fingers up his forearm, gliding them along the crook near his bicep.