Enchantingly Entangled Read online

  I’m practically in a panic, fighting between wanting to slide down a wall in a dead faint to recover from the orgasm he gave me and the need to leave the building as soon as I can.

  I reach the stairs and run down them as fast as my melted-jelly legs can allow, my heart beating madly, my breathing so short every intake of oxygen is almost painful, my mind completely scrambled, my thoughts so jumbled I can’t even begin to understand them myself.

  What the fuck did I get myself into?

  Chapter 5

  STERLING

  I lean my forehead onto the cold steel of the elevator wall —the same wall I was driving that redhead bombshell against a moment ago— and close my eyes.

  I’m breathing hard and ragged, my heart thumping against my ribcage, my vision blurry, my hands shaking and my rock-hard cock jumping in my pants and achingly twitching against the denim, the tip wet, my balls drawing up more and more with every exhalation of air that leaves my lungs.

  I was this close to fucking losing my nut in this bloody elevator while kissing and rubbing my dick against the curvaceous hot body of a complete stranger.

  What is wrong with me?

  I might be a ladies’ man, but I’m not one for practically attacking strangers in elevators, yet I did exactly that.

  It’s like the second my eyes met her beautiful, crystal-blue ones I lost myself and every ounce of control I had.

  My mind was practically driving on autopilot.

  One second I was staring at her, marveling at her delicate beauty and her innocent and slightly worried air and the next I was plunging my tongue in her mouth.

  Thank God she kissed me back, I don’t know what I would have done if she had pulled away.

  The minute my lips touched hers and I felt her responding to my kiss has now topped every other time of happiness in my life.

  I’ve never wanted anything as much as I want her, I’ve never felt like I belonged so much to someone as much as I did while holding her in my arms and I don’t even know who she is.

  I’m so painfully aroused I’m practically dizzy with lust, my mouth dry as the Sahara now that she’s gone, my heart lurching sorrowfully at her absence.

  I can’t even contemplate the idea of not having her by my side.

  While we kissed I felt like my sanity, my life, my future, everything I am, depended on her. How can this be?

  This is so bloody beyond sex I don’t know how to feel, what to think.

  I’m feeling all sorts of confusing things right now, like her soul collided with mine and left me upside down and incapable to breathe without her.

  Fuck how can I feel this much this fast?

  I don’t even know her bloody name for fuck’s sake!

  What would I have done if she hadn’t left?

  Would I have insisted on knowing her name or would I have simply dragged her out of this blasted lift, hiked her up against a wall and shagged her without a single word passing between us?

  I can’t really say, but one thing I know is that I shouldn’t have let her leave like that.

  I was so stunned by the sensations running in my body, so ensnared by the need to be close to her, to possess her, that I had little control over my actions and thoughts and now she is gone: by the time I realized what exactly was going on, she had disappeared.

  Bloody fucking hell, I don’t even know at which floor she got out exactly, my eyes were closed when she pushed me off of her and by the time I pulled my shit together, I was already at the top floor, the one entirely occupied by Charles’s penthouse and private hall.

  I suppose it must have been one of the highest three floors, it got me too little to reach the last stop after she left, but still I have very little to go on for finding her.

  I close my eyes and picture her in my head.

  I can see her so vividly.

  Petite, tiny really.

  Lovely.

  It’s like my brain recorded a 3D, high-definition, bloody 4K video of the first few seconds I was in her presence and now it’s on constant replay and I can fucking zoom in and out in it.

  I see blush-colored pouty lips, short wavy strawberry blonde hair catching the light and shining copper and gold.

  Skin so white, I could see the faint, intricate up and down of her light, green veins in the area of her ample chest left bare by the skimpy, tight running outfit she had on and then the blush spreading over it when I ran my teeth over her neck.

  Fuck, those breasts, so big and perky, pressed against my pecs and those wide hips and soft thighs wrapped around me, her big, firm bum filling my hands as I drove my cock against her spandex-covered cunt.

  The little hollow space appearing in her delicate throat every time she drew a sharp breath.

  And most of all, her eyes: wide, innocent, blue like a sky impossible to spot over London, crystal-clear and deep, full of need and want and so, so very sweet, sweet like the taste of her full lips and her voice moaning softly.

  My cock jerks achingly against my zipper and I palm it and squeeze to keep myself from going off.

  I heave a huge sigh, willing my dick to settle down and my blood to rush toward my brain again and then I push the button for the twenty-fifth floor one more time.

  No one called the lift, so the doors open right away and a minute later I’m standing in front of the guest entrance of Charlie’s penthouse, my dick still stiff and my brain still frayed.

  I need to find her.

  I need to hold her again.

  The thought of never seeing her again is just too bloody painful to contemplate.

  I close my eyes again, trying to blink away the lust-induced haziness clouding my thoughts.

  I need to be lucid if I want to find her, this means I need to have a seat and calm down first.

  I knock on the door.

  As disheveled and flustered as I feel, I must look a sight, because as soon as Charles opens the door his eyes narrow on me.

  “What’s up with you, man? Still jet-lagged?” he asks.

  “Hardly, I’m wide awake, famished and horny as fuck!” I blurt out. I’m a blunt kind of guy, it’s very difficult for me to dissemble or be anything but frank and honest. Sometimes even a little too honest I think. Most people are bothered by it: they think me rude and unfeeling, but just as Aston, Charles actually appreciate my directness and is never peeved by it. Still even for him this could be a little too much.

  He looks momentarily taken aback, but then chuckles. “Well, I do have your favorite scones in the kitchen. For the other thing, though, no can do, man, no matter how much I love you.”

  “I really don’t need your bloody jokes right now, Chuck,” I grunt as I follow him in the kitchen where he has quite the spread laid out for our brunch —or rather heavy breakfast— with some Brit stuff here and there and more than a little of a Yankee touch: eggs, bacon, hash browns, toasts, beans, fresh orange juice and steaming cups of Earl Grey.

  I look down at myself and I grimace a little, shaking my head, I’m still hard as steel. “My dashed cock won’t go bloody down!”

  Charles looks everywhere but in the obvious direction, his eyebrows arched high on his forehead. “Way too much information, pal.”

  I cover my face with both hands and sigh. “Charles, do be serious. I’ve been in your building for over twenty minutes now, but something unexpected, or rather someone unexpected, delayed me in the lift.”

  “What?” he asks, laughing at me as I glare at him, peeking from behind my fingers.

  I slide my hands off my face and let go of another big sigh. “I met this sexy bombshell in your bloody lift. She was stunning and so hot, my legs are still fucking shaking.”

  Charles chuckles, taking a seat on one of the stools at the breakfast bar. “You sure it was a real woman and not a jet-lag-induced hallucination?”

  I take a seat in front of him and roll my eyes at him. “Well, if she was a bloody hallucination she was a
pretty damn concrete one, ‘cause I stuck my tongue down her throat.”

  Charles shakes his head with a little airless laugh. “Again, Ster, way too much information.”

  I pick a jug of cold water, fill a tall glass and down it in one go, then I slump over the breakfast bar. “She was a fucking bloody vision of perfection, man…”

  “Well, that’s great that you met her then. What’s her name?” Charles asks.

  I shoot him a look that could probably kill. Leave it to him to hit the bloody nail on the bloody head.

  “That’s the bloody fucking problem, Charlie. I don’t know.”

  I see my friend’s blue eyes widen. “What? You kissed her and you don’t know her name?”

  I sit up a little. “Oh, I definitely did more than kiss her, Chuck.”

  “How the fuck does a thing like that happen?” he asks.

  I feel my lips curve in a grin. “Well, it’s easy enough, Charles. You might have forgotten being that you are shackled to that batshit crazy Miss Frigidity-socialite, but it can happen and it totally happened to me, although I can hardly tell you what occurred.”

  Charles frowns. “Okay, settle down, man. I get it, I mean I don’t get it get it, but I see what you mean. And just for your information, I’m no longer shackled.”

  I glance away from the empty glass in my hands and up at him, my smile getting bigger and my heart getting a bit lighter. Well, I can be grateful for small miracles. Both Aston and I were going to talk to him about getting rid of that mad cow and if he did it on his own I can only be proud of him. That woman is positively ghastly and so so bad for him.

  “That’s bloody fantastic, chap. I swear after all Lulu has pulled if you were going to mention giving her another bloody possibility I was really going to advise you seriously had your head shrunk.”

  Charles laughs. “Funny you should mention, my sister Cora said something very similar to me yesterday.”

  I nod a little. “Well, it’s good to know someone in your family has some sense left, even if it’s that little brat.”

  Charles gives me an affected eye-roll.

  He hates when I call the little brat a little brat.

  “Again, Ster. Not a brat. You can’t base your opinion of her on a meeting that occurred what? Basically when we first met, a little over five years ago.”

  I cross my arms over my chest. Sure I can, I think, but I just keep my mouth shut.

  My friend loves his little sister to pieces, woe to the man unlucky enough to fall for her.

  Charles goes on in her defense. “She was sixteen back then and I know that she liked to snipe at you a little, but she has done a lot of growing up since then.”

  I wave away his words, maybe a tad more dismissively than I should, but I’m still kind of overwhelmed and I’m not in the mood to listen to him extolling the virtues of that annoying little brat. “And where is she? Wasn’t she supposed to be here? Got tied up playing with her Barbie doll?”

  Charles laughs. “You don’t want to know where Cora would shove that Barbie doll if she heard you, Ster. Anyway, you are the one who’s over two hours late. She waited until she could, but then she went out for a run about a half an hour ago.”

  I scoff with a hand on my chest. “I’m heartbroken to have missed her I’m sure especially if we—”

  I stop talking and look around the room. “Wait, where the fuck is Aston?”

  Charles starts to guffaw. “He is with the woman of his dreams apparently. I don’t think we’ll be seeing much of him until Monday at least, but don’t tell me you just noticed that he is not here?”

  I feel my eyebrows shoot up. Okay, I was right yesterday then: I definitely missed something here.

  I shake my head, raking one hand in my hair.

  I’m so out of it, I didn’t even realize Aston was not in the bloody room with us. I mean, the guy can be silent and brooding, but I can’t really pin my lack of alertness on his usually quiet nature, can I?

  “Fuck, I don’t know what’s wrong with me, Chuck. This girl has me upside down, I can’t explain. I’ve never felt like that, never felt such a connection. One minute we were staring at each other and there was something akin to a fucking roar in my ears, and the next we were all over each other and then she was gone.”

  My friend sighs and for a moment I spot something close to melancholy in his eyes, but maybe I’m starting to see things: there’s no one happier than Charles in this blasted, cluttered city. It’s just my brain playing tricks on me.

  “I need to find her,” I grit out, my heart beating faster at the thought of having her to myself again.

  Charles pats me on the arm. “I know, dude, don’t worry. I’ll help you. The head of security in the building is away right now, but he will be back Monday afternoon. I’ll ask him to show us the surveillance tapes for today and we’ll see if your girl is someone who lives here, maybe I know her.”

  I smile. Why the fuck didn’t I think of that!

  My brain is completely useless right now.

  “Thanks, man. No matter how, I really really need to see her and hold her again,” I murmur, suddenly feeling sad and hopeless at the idea of not being able to be with her again, to find out her name and once more kiss her lips.

  Usually nothing touches me, nothing and no one goes through me, I’ve never met someone that could have such a power over me.

  Until this morning nothing could faze me —except for a plane— and then I saw her and everything changed.

  What the bloody fuck is wrong with me?

  This isn’t like me.

  Charles maybe, but not me.

  He is the one always looking for love, thinking about settling down and having a brood of kids, not me.

  Not me and not Aston, at least until yesterday afternoon. My stoic, serious friend, very much resigned and content to be on his own, very wary of the motivations of the fairer sex is acting out of character big time and so am I.

  My mysterious elevator bombshell has done what no one has been capable of accomplishing before.

  She has destroyed my unshakable equilibrium and left me adrift.

  The idea of not finding her makes me sick to my stomach.

  What a difference meeting the right woman can make!

  Especially if you meet her at the wrong possible time and you don’t even let her talk enough to tell you her blasted name before you start mauling her.

  I groan, face down on the breakfast bar, eyes closed.

  Bloody fucking fuck, I’m so fucked!

  Chapter 6

  CORA

  “Alright, Mom, don’t worry, I will, I promise. Say hello to Daddy for me. Love you,” I sigh and end the call, feeling myself deflate as the fake cheerfulness I tried to fool my mother with leaves my body.

  I’ve been making myself scarce for the whole weekend, using the excuse of having to study; as they always do, my parents got worried about me overdoing it and being my usual overachieving self, so I had to promise my mom I would ‘lighten up’ and ‘tear myself away from the books’.

  If only she knew the truth.

  For once in my life I haven’t spent the days before an exam working myself to the bone, no: I’ve spent them staring off into space, unable to concentrate, my mind playing what happened in that elevator over and over again, killing my ability to study, sleep and function like a normal human being.

  I’ve had maybe three hours of sleep in the last two days, I feel so tired, so awful and so fucking confused.

  I can’t believe I let things go so far in that lift.

  A make out session doesn’t change who we are.

  I’m still the little bratty sister of his best friend for Sterling and he is still much too old —not to mention too hot— for me to handle.

  And yet being wrapped up in him felt so magical. It was incredible, fantastic, wonderful: everything that a kiss with your brother’s much older —fourteen years older!— hun
ky best friend shouldn’t feel like; especially when said hunky best friend doesn’t even know who you really are.

  I tried to act like it did not happen, but I had no luck whatsoever.

  The memory of the feel of him, the taste of him, the heated look in his eyes won’t leave me alone.

  I don’t know how to deal with this.

  I don’t know what Sterling would say or do if he knew.

  And what of my brother?

  How would he react?

  Am I going to cost him one of his best and dearest friends in the world?

  He can’t find out about this. I can’t let this happen.

  My shoulders slump and I feel the now familiar ache mounting in me, my heart jumping painfully in my chest.

  I step back into my brother’s office and try to smile at him.

  “How’s Mom?” he asks smiling back.

  I shrug. “Good. Just a little worried I guess.”

  Charles nods. “For you?”

  I square my shoulders. “For both of us: you work too much; I study too much. She should try parenting Angelina and see how much she likes it,” I grumble, but it’s just a ruse. I love that my mom —and dad— care so much about my brother and I, they are nothing like my friend’s parents, but I want Charles to stay focused on this so he doesn’t see something else is going on with me. My brother knows me too well.

  He smirks. “Hmm, Angelina? What about Nigel? Now that would really teach Mom and Dad a thing or two about when to worry over children.”

  I giggle at that. Sterling’s younger brother’s exploits are really something else. “Now, Charlie, don’t exaggerate: I want Mom and Dad to step back a little, not have them end up with a total nervous breakdown.”

  My brother chuckles, his eyes on the screen of his phone and my mind drifts back to that elevator again, exploits of a much different nature, involving the other Fitzroy heir filling my thoughts.

  I hear Charles say something and I turn back to look at him, tearing my eyes from the large, floor-to-ceiling, wall window overlooking the buzzing city.