M.F.

 

I’m boiling hot, I can’t move my arms, and I need a wee. It seems my bladder’s awake before my eyes and brain can adequately manage it.

After a few moments of trying to wake them up, my eyes finally, if unwillingly, peel open.

I bat the sleep away, eventually focusing, but my vision is marred by a wall of tanned and toned chest. What the hell?

My eyes ping open wider as I look up. Max’s stunning face lies on the pillow next to mine. His eyes are closed, he has morning stubble, just adding to his handsomeness, and his hair is damp.

Lying on his side, his lean, defined torso is just inches from mine. My left arm is scrunched between our bodies, my right arm is lying over his side and pinned under his arm, which is draped over my hip.

I notice the small tattoo on the left side of his chest, above his heart. I’d seen it that night in the kitchen but I was too enthralled by him to think much about it then. The tattoo is the letters, ‘M. F.’ in italic scroll.

…Monica Foxx.

My eyes trail along his chest and down his side where I notice two long, thin scars curling around his side just under his ribs. I also notice he’s no longer wearing the clothes he had on last night. As I drift my gaze further down, I see he’s dressed in a pair of black sweatpants.

Did I…? Did he…? Huh? I check my own body, relieved to see that I’m still wearing my bra and knickers.

His hot, minty breath blows over my face as he exhales a deep contented sigh. He smells of toothpaste and body wash, all fresh and clean. He’s showered! And how come he looks so fresh? He was practically pickled last night.

As I try to extricate myself from his arm, he pulls me closer as a purr rumbles softly in his throat. “Morning, beautiful.” His soft, seductive voice caresses my ears. “Sleep well?”

His sleepy blue eyes open, gazing affectionately down at me. They’re stunning and hard to resist, especially now they’re on me.

A full body blush heats my skin from head to toe. “Um…yeah…I…What time is it?” I stammer, blinking repeatedly to check my eyes are really working. I think I’m in shock.

He gently moves my hair out of my face and behind my shoulder, trailing his fingers down my arm which sends tingles through my skin. “It’s nine o’clock. I thought I’d let you sleep.”

I glance over his broad shoulders to check my surroundings. I’m still in my own room. I’m pretty sure I left him in his room last night. I also notice my dress and coat on the back of the door. I can’t see the floor, but I’m guessing my shoes are there too.

Last night comes flooding back. Although, for the life of me, I don’t remember how we came to be in the same bed together. The very last thing I remember is feeling like shit because he’d called me ‘Mon’, his pet name for Monica.

Oh, God. This is all fucked up. I wanted to be out of here before he woke up.

As my eyes return to Max, his lips softly tip up at the corners. “Thank you for taking care of me last night, I shouldn’t have put you through all that. I’m sorry. Vinnie told me everything this morning when we went to collect my car.”

His eyes follow the movement of his hand as he gently moves a stray strand of hair from my cheek. Then his eyes return to mine, searching and hopeful. “I was so glad to find you still here when we got back. I was worried you’d run out on me.”

I shouldn’t be here. I don’t want to be here. Not anymore.

His scorching gaze plays havoc with my senses, setting off my butterflies and quickening my pulse. He has a way of rendering me incapable of coherent thought when he hits me with those blazing blues, especially this close.

“You looked so adorable all snuggled up, I couldn’t resist you.” As he hits me with his sexy smile, I feel every nerve ending explode with desire.

No!…No! I can’t do this. I close my eyes before his irresistible smile takes hold and makes me do something I’ll regret. “I’d better go.”

Wriggling out of his arms, I grab my dress from the back of the door and pick up my shoes, hugging them to my chest.

As I head toward the en-suite bathroom, I glance up at him through my lashes. He looks surprised and anxious. His lips part in preparation for a comment, but I don’t give him the chance to say anything. Rushing into the bathroom, I close the door behind me, locking it.

Leaning my back against the door, I try to calm my erratic breathing but as I spot myself in the mirror on the opposite wall, everything gives way. I feel pathetic. I am pathetic.

I drop my clothes to the floor, my shoes clattering loudly on the tiles, then I slide down the door to the cold marble. Hugging my knees tightly to my chest, I begin to sob quietly.

I’ve made a total idiot of myself over this man. He’s all perfect one minute and messing with my head the next. No woman in her right mind would want to be in a relationship with a man who dreams of another woman. He’s even got her initials tattooed over his heart for fuck’s sake.

It doesn’t take me long to shower and throw my dress on. My feet hurt in these bloody shoes but they’re all I have, and I’ve got to go home. I’ve got to get away from him once and for all.

Not bothering with any makeup, I tie my hair back in a loose ponytail. When I’m ready, I hesitantly open the bathroom door.

The room is empty, so I grab my coat and bag and gingerly open the bedroom door before sneaking out to the corridor.

As I hesitantly walk toward the top of the staircase, I can hear faint voices coming from downstairs. It’s Max and a woman’s voice, a British voice. Thankfully, it’s not Monica. From what I can make out they’re discussing a menu.

Standing at the top of the staircase, I look down at all that marble. My shoes are going to give me away on the first step so I quickly take them off and carry them. I just want to get out and go home with minimum fuss and without having to explain myself.

I quietly pad down the stairs. As I reach the bottom step, I hear the voices are coming from the kitchen which I have to pass to get to the front door. Shit!

On a deep breath and shaking legs, I bolt for the door.

“Vivienne?”

Skidding to a stop, I almost trip over my own feet. My shoes fall from my hands and clatter on the marble.

As I glance into the kitchen, I see a striking woman wearing an apron. Max is standing next to her, looking absolutely dreamy in a sharp navy suit, with a crisp, white shirt and navy tie. His tall lean frame and broad shoulders accentuated by the cut of his suit, the colour drawing out the crystal blue in his eyes. He’s clean shaven and mouth-wateringly gorgeous.

“Would you like some breakfast?”

His voice snaps me out of my daze so I hastily bend down to retrieve my shoes.

“No. Thanks. Erm, I’ve got to go.”

I head straight for the door, rushing through the foyer to the lift, which thankfully is here with doors open. Darting inside, I press the button repeatedly. Please close, please close…come on!

As the doors start to close, I see Max striding toward me, total confusion on his face. “Vivienne.”

Tears threaten my eyes as I stand there trembling. “I can’t. Goodbye, Max.” The doors close and I start to breathe again as the lift descends to the ground floor.

Quickly stepping into my shoes, I wince and curse as they pinch my feet. Checking myself out in the mirrored wall, I look tearful and pale, but presentable. As long as my coat remains buttoned, no one will see my flimsy, way too short, silver dress underneath.

My phone rings. When I check the screen, the display reads; ‘M.F.’

He’s added his number to my phone! How the hell did he know my pin? Ignoring it, I shove my phone in my pocket.

When the lift arrives at the ground floor, I march through the lobby with my head down. Once outside on the pavement, I stop and grab a huge lung full of air. My head is spinning.

The pavement is busy with Saturday shoppers and tourists all tutting at me as I obstruct their path. Once I’ve gathered my thoughts, I quickly hail a cab. These shoes are too friggin’ uncomfortable for walking.

On the journey home, the cab driver eyes me suspiciously in his rear-view mirror as my phone repeatedly rings. I ignore it. Why can’t he take the hint. After the fifth call, my phone remains silent. Finally.