Roman-2(Lane Brothers, Book 5)(173)

Sasha wriggled further towards the bed board. ”Of course. I’ll leave you to it. Shall I get Pippa to wake you when it’s time to eat?”

Thomas waved his hand dismissively. “No. No. Let me sleep. I’ll eat when we get there.”

Sasha slid out of the bed, the sheets wrapped tightly around her, and bent to pick up her discarded clothes. But as she did so, the silky sheets slipped to the floor, exposing her bare behind to Thomas. She heard him take a sharp intake of breath.

“I forgot how fucking hot you were, intern,” he said.

Sasha’s cheeks flamed red. It seemed like a million years had passed since he’d last called her that. It used to annoy her until she realized he was doing it because he got off on her telling him not to. It turned him on when she was dominant and bolshy. Had he said it then to provoke her?

She left the sheet on the floor and turned around, completely naked, and stared him down.

“Don’t call me that,” she said.

A spark ignited behind Thomas’s eyes. “Why don’t you come here and tell me not to?” He patted the bed.

Sasha looked at the space beside him. She wanted to slip into it, to touch him again, to feel his body against hers. But he was drunk. Did he really mean it, or did alcohol make him horny in the same way it did with her?

But there was no point rationalizing it. The pull of Thomas was magnetic. She couldn’t resist, no matter how many reasons she could conjure up telling her not to.

She paced over to him. He stretched a hand out, skimming it against her bare thigh, making the tiny, white blonde hairs stand on end.

Sasha inhaled sharply. Thomas’s fingers began inching up her leg, drawing closer and closer to her throbbing clit. With her eyes squeezed shut in anticipation, Sasha tipped her head back. Her lips parted. Her heartbeat quickened.

But just before his fingertips reached the place she was yearning for him to touch, she felt his hand move abruptly away. She looked down. Thomas Lloyd had passed out cold.

Sasha’s pent up arousal left her with one disappointed exhalation. She collected her bra and panties. By the time she was fully dressed, Thomas was snoring loudly.





Chapter Eleven




“I’ve got you a fashion deal,” Pippa said as Sasha re-emerged into the main part of the plane.

It was bright in here and she squinted. The change was abrupt from the dreamy, romantic lighting in Thomas’s room. The two burly security men seemed to have gone, leaving just Pippa in the main room.

“I’m sorry, a what?” Sasha said.

“A fashion deal!” Pippa seemed delighted.

“That was quick.”

“It’s with Amore. They’re a British brand. Very trendy. Very East London. Tina, the lead stylist, is flying out this afternoon and will be joining us a few hours after we land.”

“That really was quick!”

“It’s a fast paced world, darling,” Pippa said. “So, they’re bringing fifteen outfits and twelve pairs of shoes from their new collection. You’ll get to keep it all, of course.”

“Of course…” Sasha mumbled under her breath. It was all so surreal, to spend your whole life under the radar then suddenly be thrust into the limelight. “I’m sorry but, why? Why do they want me to wear their clothes?”

“They said they saw your smoking hot body on the sex tape and your appearance and dominant sexual prowess completely fitted with their brand image.”

“Um, okay,” Sasha replied, feeling a little awkward. She’d never thought of herself as having a smoking hot body and she certainly hadn’t considered that the sex tape could become something that would fit it in with a company’s “brand image.” But she guessed this was just the way the world of the rich and the famous operated.

Pippa handed her some papers to sign. “Just a contract to say you won’t be wearing any other brands for the next two weeks. There’s a couple of pages to sign. Make sure you get them all.”

Bemused and slightly befuddled, Sasha wrote her name on the documents.

“We need to get you a better signature,” Pippa said, examining the paper. Then she tidied them away into her folder and beamed. “We ought to celebrate.”

Pippa went to the fridge and started pulling out bottles, pouring, stirring, squeezing limes. When she returned, she had a pitcher of mojitos.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Sasha said, thinking of the way alcohol broke down her inhibitions.

Pippa raised an eyebrow. “Oh please, darling. You’re not a small town girl anymore. This is your new life. Amore dresses and mojitos at lunch.”

She poured a glass for Sasha and held her own up to chink. There was a moment’s hesitation.