which was eating me up because of the newspaper article and the stunner in the yellow dress, on Tuesday I started getting ill. My throat was killing me and I could barely swallow. After a couple of days of suffering in silence, I finally gave in and went to the doctor. I hated to make a fuss out of things about myself or admit I was sick. I was the person who took care of others, not the other way around.
As it turned out, I had tonsillitis. I was given a course of antibiotics and sat munching on throat lozenges like they were going out of fashion, but my life couldn’t stop just because I was feeling poorly. The flat didn’t clean itself, Sasha didn’t magically raise herself, and my university classes didn’t suddenly disappear. So I struggled on, the same as normal. Except, instead of my life just feeling like hard work, everything felt almost impossible at the moment.
By the time Saturday came around, I was feeling a little better, but everything was taking its toll on me. I looked a mess. I was extremely tired because my sore throat stopped me from sleeping very well for the last few days, and I was just generally more exhausted than normal.
Once Sasha had settled to sleep, I grabbed my uniform for work and went for a quick shower. When I was dry, I pulled on warmer clothes over the top of my uniform. I was going to be freezing at work tonight. I’d been so cold for the last couple of days that I’d had to sleep in tracksuit bottoms and a hoodie.
As I dried my hair in the kitchen, I tried not to look in the mirror at the dark circles residing under my eyes; I’d sort them out with some concealer at work. I didn’t own much make-up, mainly because I couldn’t afford to buy it, so I always just used the stuff they had at the club.
I plopped down next to Rory, resting my head back on the sofa. I really could just do with going to sleep right now instead of going to work until after two in the morning. “Sasha’s asleep. Don’t stay up too late tonight, okay?” I croaked, my voice sounding husky and sore.
He smiled sympathetically. “Are you sure you can’t just call in sick?”
I shook my head. “Can’t afford it. I’ll be fine; it won’t be too busy tonight.” At least I hoped it wasn’t too busy. If it was too much I could pull in a favour and have Lucie do one of my tables if I got too tired. She owed me because I worked three of her tables a couple of weeks ago when she was sick. Lucie Cooper was my good friend at the club; she was the person who made it possible for me to go back to school when I got pregnant. She was a single mother, too. Her man had walked out on her about three years ago, leaving her with three kids on her own. We helped each other out with babysitting and sleepovers when we needed to. It was nice; she was my best friend even though she was ten years older than me.
Rory sighed. “I wish I could go to work instead of you. As soon as I’ve done my exams, I’ll get a job and take care of you and Sash for a change.” He patted my leg, smiling sadly.
I looked at my little brother. He really was my rock and I loved him so much. “When you finish your exams you’ll be doing your A-levels, buster,” I rebutted sternly, but it sounded a little weak because of me barely being able to talk. “Besides, you take care of us all the time.”
He smiled and shook his head, frowning. This was an old argument. I wanted him to stay in school, and he wanted to leave and get a job. Rory was a smart kid; I couldn’t let him waste his brain because I needed money. That wouldn’t be good for anyone in the long run.
“I’m going now,” I said before he could protest. I couldn’t argue with him tonight, my throat was too sore. “Lock the door and I’ll see you in the morning.” I pushed myself off the sofa and grabbed my keys, mobile phone and purse from the sideboard.
“Emma,” Rory called as I had my hand on the door about to open it. I turned back to face him, just as something came flying towards me. I instinctively caught it and looked down to see a packet of throat sweets. “Don’t forget those.”
I smiled gratefully. “Thanks. See ya.”
The walk to work was uneventful. Well, as uneventful as Central London after dark can be. I ignored a couple of comments from guys drinking and hanging out in the streets. I crossed the road when the door of a pub burst open and two men fell out, fighting and shouting at each other.
By the time I got to work, I was shivering so hard my back was aching. I headed to the shared dressing rooms, saying my hellos to the performers and waitresses as I flopped down into an empty chair. Looking into the mirror, I silently wondered what I could do to salvage the mess that was my face. I really should have called in sick tonight, but I just needed the money too badly. Carson’s money from two weeks ago was already gone, and my wages from the previous week were dwindling down too fast for comfort. I liked to have spare money; I didn’t like to literally live off my wages and then have nothing when it was gone. If I had called in sick tonight then I would be short next week instead, and I couldn’t have that.
Lucie plopped down in the seat next to mine and looked at me worriedly. “Wow, you still look like shit.”
I laughed humourlessly. Way to make a girl feel better about herself, Lucie! “Thanks for that. You look totally bangin’ as usual.”
She laughed and grabbed the make-up bag from the counter, gripping the arm of my swivel chair and turning me to face her. “You obviously don’t feel much better.” She sighed, smiling sympathetically as she started plastering make-up on my face. I closed my eyes and just let her do it, grateful I didn’t have to lift my arms and do it myself.
“I’m okay. I just hope tonight goes quickly. You think if I get in trouble I could push a table or two your way tonight?” I asked hopefully.
“Of course you can, sweetie! Hey, is Carson coming tonight?” she asked, dabbing a thick layer of concealer under my eyes.
I shrugged, not really wanting to think about him. I was still hurting over the beauty in the paper last week. What with being sick, everything just seemed to pile up and I couldn’t stop myself wallowing in self-pity about him. “I hope not,” I admitted. I didn’t want to see him while I was sick. There were two reasons, really. One, I didn’t want him to get sick, as well. And two, I looked a mess, and I didn’t want him taking one look at me and requesting a different waitress. That would kill me, seeing him get dances and flirting with other waitresses right in front of me.
At exactly ten o’clock, there was a bang on the dressing room door. “Doors are now opening, ladies. Waitresses need to come out and take their places to welcome the customers,” Jason called through the door.
I groaned, not wanting to get up. “Let’s get this over with,” I mumbled to Lucie as the six waitresses all stood up, along with the six reserve girls who floated around doing lap dances or covering sections if a girl went to the backroom. Lucie was floating tonight so that was great for me; I knew she’d help me out. I pulled off my tracksuit bottoms and hoodie, slipped on my heels, and then followed them into the club.
I headed straight over to the bar, leaning against it, praying as the customers walked in that that they would choose a table which wasn’t mine so I wouldn’t have to start working yet. Luckily for me, no one sat in my section until just after ten-thirty. I just hung out at the bar with Jason and bitched about being sick and tired, while he laughed at me and rolled his eyes.
So far, I only had one table. It was occupied by three middle-aged men who didn’t seem to be interested in me in the slightest and were watching the empty stage eagerly.
The door opened and I heard a lot of commotion. I flicked my eyes to the door, seeing about twelve guys all walking in, laughing, and pushing each other around teasingly. Raising one eyebrow, I looked at Jason in question. He usually knew if there was to be a big party like this booked in.
He shrugged. “Stag night, apparently,” he answered my unspoken question.
Stag night? Oh, no! Not my section! Please, not my section!
I watched them walk in, looking through the photos of the waitresses on the board by the door. They got to choose a waitress if they wanted to, and the photos showed which sections to sit in if you liked the look of a particular girl.
Please, please, please not me!
I held my breath as they sauntered across the room, bypassing Charlotte’s and Andie’s tables. I watched with wide eyes as they checked table numbers as they walked past.
Please, no!
Lucie walked up to them and flashed her killer smile, making them stop and talk to her. She pointed to Kaitlin and then waved at Kaitlin’s section. I felt like doing a little happy dance – until the guy at the front shook his head and said something to Lucie. Her eyes flicked to me and I groaned. They wanted me. The guy turned around and looked at me before nodding. I plastered on a fake smile. The only upside to this was, with it being a stag-do I would get a lot of dances tonight, and the money would definitely come in handy. Lucie smiled and nodded, showing them over to table three.
I looked back at Jason and sighed in defeat. He shrugged in response. “Sorry. Maybe they like blondes?” he suggested.
“Awesome,” I grunted, grabbing the tray of drinks from the bar and going to deliver them to the three older guys in my section. After bringing their drinks, I put on my brightest smile and headed to the stag party. They were all sitting, talking animatedly and looking around excitedly, obviously waiting for the show to start. I leant on the back of one of the chairs, sticking my hip out sexily as I balanced the tray on one hand.
“Well, hi there, boys. Who’s the lucky guy getting married?” I asked, scanning them quickly. I put them all in their mid-twenties. A couple of them were raking their eyes down my body already, and I knew those were the ones I needed to stay away from. Those would be the ones who get a little touchy-feely after a few drinks.
A guy with brown hair and a black shirt put his hand up, grinning. “That would be me.”
I smiled seductively. “Name?”
“Tyson.”
I bit my lip and nodded, trying to look sexy, even though I felt anything but at that moment. “Well then, Tyson, I hope you have a great night. I’m Emma, and I’ll be your waitress. We also have some dancers who walk around. Dances are fifty pounds cash to the girl before it starts. The show starts in about ten minutes,” I reeled off my spiel, nodding toward the stage.
“Perfect,” one guy purred. He was one of the touchy ones I had sussed out earlier. His eyes were watching me like they were glued to me, clearly mentally undressing me as I stood there.
I shifted uncomfortably. “The menus are on the table. I’ll be back in a couple of minutes to take your orders.” I turned and went to walk off just as I felt someone slap my bum. Gritting my teeth, I carried on walking; I didn’t have the energy or the patience to explain the rules to them right now. Hopefully they’d behave. If not, then I would have to ask one of the bouncers to come, have a polite word, and explain the rules to them.
AFTER HALF AN HOUR, I had already done two dances and they were only just finishing their first drinks. This was going to be a long night. I already felt dead on my feet. Obviously, the germs and bags under my eyes didn’t put some people off.
As I was scribbling down their next drink order, an arm wrapped around my waist and a hand clamped over my mouth, effortlessly lifting me off my feet. I yelped against the hand and tried to struggle free. I couldn’t move. I flicked my eyes to the guys at the table, but they were staring over my shoulder with wide eyes and their mouths hanging open. Panicked, I jerked my elbow into my attacker’s stomach, making him grunt and release me. As soon as I was free, I jumped away and turned to see who it was. Carson was clutching at his stomach, laughing.
The first thing that entered my head was he looked beautiful; his smile was dazzling as he chuckled, rubbing his stomach where I’d elbowed him. My chest tightened as happiness consumed me. All thoughts of him and the girl from the paper were completely gone because, for tonight, he was here with me.
The second thought which entered my head was that he had just frightened the shit out of me on purpose.
I slapped his arm with my order pad, which just made him laugh harder. “That wasn’t funny, dickhead. That scared me!” I cried angrily, making my throat hurt even more. He smirked at me so I slapped his arm again with my pad, pushing on his chest. “You idiot! Seriously, you could’ve given me a heart attack!”
He grabbed my wrist as I went to hit him again. “Hey, I could get you fired for hitting a customer,” he teased cockily.
I rolled my eyes and pulled my hand away from him before slapping him again with my pad for emphasis. “If you did that, then who’d bring your champagne, Mr Matthews?”
He tapped his chin, pretending to think. “You’re right there. I doubt anyone can carry the tray with the finesse you have. And I’d miss that hot little behind of yours in those shorts if you weren’t here.”
I stuck my tongue out at him and he just laughed. “Go find a table, Mr Matthews, I’m busy,” I instructed, waving my hand dismissively, trying hard to keep the excited smile from my face.
“You’re so rude nowadays. You used to be so polite,” he joked, winking at me teasingly.
“That was before you started scaring the crap out of me by grabbing me when I’m at work,” I protested.
He smiled, stepping closer to me, taking hold of my chin with his thumb and forefinger. He tipped my head back slightly, just looking into my eyes. “Did you see me on TV?” he asked, smiling his little dimpled smile. I nodded, unable to speak. He was so close, so teasingly close. “People thought I was going mad with my little rant about fried chicken. I got a lot of stick for it from my mates and the press. I hope you appreciated it.”
I bit my lip and laughed. “You did look a little crazy. Maybe you should eat before you race next time?”
He leant in closer to me, brushing his nose against mine in a little Eskimo kiss. “Maybe I should. Or I could just find a less-demanding waitress.”
I opened my mouth to answer but nothing came out, so I cleared my throat and tried again. “Maybe you should,” I croaked, my voice barely above a whisper. I desperately needed another throat lozenge.
He frowned and pulled back. “You okay?”
I shrugged and nodded. “I’ve got tonsillitis. Don’t worry though, it’s not catching. Well, unless we share saliva,” I joked. I just wouldn’t be able to kiss him tonight and then he’d be fine. It wasn’t an airborne infection so he couldn’t catch it.
He frowned and reached out, stroking the side of my face with one finger. “You’re sick? Why are you here then?” He looked at me like I was crazy; he actually seemed a little annoyed about it.
Oh, crap, is he angry with me because I could make him sick? “You won’t catch it. You don’t need to worry.”
His frown grew more pronounced. “Emma, what are you talking about? I’m not worried because of me. I’m asking why you’re here if you should be in bed!” he scoffed.
I shrugged. “Needed the money. I’m okay,” I croaked, swallowing painfully.
He shook his head and looked back at the table containing the stag party. “I’m stealing your waitress for the night, boys.” His hand slid down my arm, gripping my hand.
I sighed and tugged my hand from his. “Carson, just go find a table. I’ll be there in a couple of minutes,” I protested. I could work his table too; he didn’t need to worry about that.
He shook his head. “I want backroom… all night.” He took my hand again, pulling me a little closer to him, making the hair on the back of my neck stand up.
Backroom, all night? He couldn’t do that, it wasn’t allowed like that. It wasn’t like you rented it by the hour or anything, but I wouldn’t be allowed to go out there all night with him. It was only just after eleven and I was supposed to be working.
“I can’t, baby. That’s not allowed.” Besides the fact it wasn’t allowed, I couldn’t really do that with him tonight anyway. I wouldn’t be able to kiss him, and I definitely wouldn’t have the energy to ravage him all night.
“I’ll swing it with Jason. Finish your order and I’ll go sort it out.” He squeezed my hand and turned on his heel, stalking off without another word. I opened my mouth to call him back, but all that came out was a whisper of his name before I cleared my throat again. I shrugged. Let Jason explain it to him. That will save me the job of speaking too much.
I turned back to the table, smiling apologetically because I’d ignored them for the last few minutes. “So, who was I up to?” I asked, glancing down at my order pad to see what I had already written down.
“That was Carson Matthews!” Tyson said with wide eyes as he stared over my shoulder, obviously watching Carson speak to Jason.
I nodded. “Yep, he’s a member here. So, who else wants a drink?”
“Do you know him? Oh, man, that dude is so awesome, and he’s shit-hot at driving. I can’t believe I’m in the same room as him!” Tyson gushed excitedly. “Do you think you could get me his autograph? Oh, my God, do you think he’d take a photo with me?”
I laughed. It amused me when people went a little gaga over Carson; it was almost as if they forgot he was a real person. This guy looked like he would ditch his upcoming wedding if he had a shot with Carson.
“I’ll ask him if you want,” I offered. Tyson nodded, practically bouncing in his seat, and I could tell that Carson just made this guy’s stag night. The most memorable thing of the night for him would be meeting a celebrity.
It took a while to finish taking the order, considering most of the time Tyson kept butting in and asking me questions about Carson. What he was like, if he was a nice guy, who he came in here with, did any other MotoGP drivers come in here, etc. The questioning was relentless, and I was more than a little glad to take the last order so I could stop speaking.
I headed to the bar, pushing the order slip across the counter to Jason. Carson was off talking to his friends. When he spotted me, he walked over, snaking his arm around my waist and pulling me close to his side as he smiled. I couldn’t help but smile back.
Jason cleared his throat so I looked back at him curiously, leaning over the bar and grabbing my lozenges I’d tucked down there. “Mr Matthews wants backroom, Emma. How do you feel about that?” Jason asked, as I popped a sweet into my mouth.
I shrugged knowing he wouldn’t go for it anyway, so it didn’t really matter what my answer was. “It’s not allowed.”
He cocked his head to the side. “Mr Matthews wants to hire the room for the night. He’ll pay you separately for your services. I’ve agreed that if it’s something you want to do, then you can do it. I’ll just pull one of the floating dancers off and they can work your section tonight.”
I looked at him, shocked. I really wasn’t expecting that at all. Turning to Carson, I frowned worriedly. As much as I would love to do that and spend the night just with him, I really couldn’t in case he did end up getting sick. “I can’t, really. I’m ill. That’s not a good idea,” I protested, biting my lip, fighting with myself because I would get to touch his body until closing time, and have him touch me. The thought of that was just too inviting, and I really wanted to accept.
“Em, you already said I couldn’t catch it. And anyway, I don’t care if I get ill; I just really want to spend some private time with you.” He gave me his puppy dog face, and I could feel my will to say no crumbling with each passing second I looked into his baby-blues. “Please?” he whispered.
Unable to resist, I gulped and nodded in agreement. I really couldn’t say no to the stupid guy; that wasn’t fair at all.
He smiled happily and turned back to Jason. “Great. Just charge the rental fee we discussed to my tab and I’ll settle up at the end of the night. If you could add Emma’s fee onto my card, too, and then you pay her the money, like we agreed, so she doesn’t have to have cash?” He looked at Jason hopefully.
I looked at Jason for confirmation and he nodded. “You’re okay with that, Emma?”
I nodded and shrugged. I never wanted the money from Carson, but Sasha’s birthday was coming up at the end of next month and mine was in two weeks. I knew Lucie wanted to go out for my birthday; it would be nice to have the money to do that this year. I never got to go out.
Carson smiled and took my hand, interlacing our fingers as he started to pull me away from the bar. I gave him a little tug to tell him to stop. “Jason, can I get a couple of bottles of water to take?”
He nodded and threw me two. Carson took them from my hands and smiled his cute little dimpled smile as he pulled me in the direction of the back of the club again.
That was when I remembered Tyson. “Baby, wait a second. There’s a guy on his stag night. He’s a big fan of yours, and I told him I’d ask if you’d do an autograph or photo or something for him…” I trailed off uncomfortably. Had I overstepped my boundaries by asking him for a favour? After all, he was just a client of mine.
He smiled and laughed before rolling his eyes. “Sure. Which one is he?”
I led him over to the table and stood back as he chatted to the guys for a couple of minutes, signing napkins, posing for photos on mobile phones. When he was finally done, he wound his arm around my waist and pulled me quickly toward the backrooms. I laughed at his eagerness; he seemed almost as desperate as me. Two weeks was definitely a long time.
Once we were in, he pushed the door closed and put the drinks on the table. Usually, he would have attacked me by now; I would have been off my feet with him kissing me passionately. Instead, he led me over to the little couch, sitting down and pulling me onto his lap. His hands went straight for the buckles of my shoes as mine went to the buttons of his shirt. He smiled and pushed my hands off him as I kissed the exposed skin of his chest, running my tongue there, tasting his skin. I moaned breathlessly. He tasted so incredible. His smell was all around me, making me feel safe, wanted and needed, just like he always made me feel.
I kissed his neck again, sucking on the skin lightly, but he gripped my shoulders, pushing me back a little. “No kissing. Just stop,” he whispered, tapping his finger on the tip of my nose.
He slipped my shoes off one at a time. His other arm wrapped around me, laying me back on the sofa as he settled down next to me. He gripped my chin and tipped my head back as he kissed the side of my neck. “I’m going to kiss your sore throat better,” he breathed.
I gasped at the feel of it; it felt so nice that my whole body broke out in goose bumps. I gripped my hand into the back of his hair as he planted gentle little kisses around my throat and jawline, and I must admit, it was making it feel a little better.
Moving my legs, I tried to shift to the side so I could pull him on top of me and wrap my legs around him, but he just pushed my legs away effortlessly. He moved closer to my side, bending his knees and pushing them under my bum so I had to drape my legs over the top of his. One of his hands traced down my thigh, over my shin and down to my foot, which he started to massage gently. My whole body relaxed as I melted against him, tangling my hand in his hair as he nibbled on my neck gently. He rubbed my foot at the same time, rubbing the tension and pain away caused by my shoes.
“I missed you, Emma.” His hot breath blew down across my collarbone, teasing my overheated skin. His smell was surrounding me – that unmistakeable Carson Matthews scent of beautiful, mixed with a little biker. Jeez, that smell! “I hate that you’re sick. I wish you would just stay at home and take it easy,” he whispered, his words vibrating against my throat. “Close your eyes for a couple of minutes and just let me rub your feet,” he instructed, moving slightly higher and kissing each of my eyelids before heading back to my sore throat.
“EMMA?”
Huh? What time is it? Oh, man, please don’t be morning yet because I need more sleep!
“Sasha?” I croaked, wincing as my throat rasped and scratched. I blinked rapidly, trying to focus.
“Do I sound like a girl?” a husky voice asked, laughing quietly.
I turned my head in the direction of the voice and saw Carson. His head was level with mine, and his breath blew across my cheeks as he laughed. One of his arms was wrapped around me tightly and I was cuddled into his chest. He was playing with my hair.
What the hell?
“Who’s Sasha?” he asked, looking at me curiously as his finger traced across my cheekbone.
I couldn’t make sense of this situation at all. Was I still asleep and this was another dream I’d had about him or something? Flicking my eyes around the room, I tried to work out why he would be in my flat. But I quickly realised this wasn’t my flat – it was the backroom of the club.
I gasped. “Oh, my God, did I fall asleep on you?” I asked, horrified. The last thing I remembered was him telling me to close my eyes and then he’d carried on massaging my feet and kissing my neck.
He smiled and kissed my forehead. “Yeah. Did I bore you?” he teased, tracing his thumb across my now burning cheek.
How bloody embarrassing! I hated that this happened, and to him of all people. As if Carson would ever bore me! This happened because I felt too comfortable with him, and because he made me feel so relaxed and safe.
“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to fall asleep; you didn’t bore me, I swear!”
He grinned and shook his head. “I was kidding, Em. That was the whole point of us coming back here, so you could relax and take it easy. I thought you’d fall asleep. You looked really tired.” Shrugging, he pulled me a little closer to him, tangling his legs with mine. It was so comfortable that I didn’t ever want to move.
That was when I realised what he’d said. He’d paid for the backroom all night so I could relax. I smiled and couldn’t stop the little “aww” which crept out of my lips.
“You feeling any better?” he inquired, looking into my eyes, making me feel slightly weightless as butterflies started to swoop around in my stomach.
I nodded and yawned. I actually was feeling a little better; I really needed that little nap. “Yeah, thanks.”
I had no idea what the time was, but I was definitely up for a little backroom action now. His body was so teasingly close; every inch of him was pressed against me. Running my hand down his chest slowly, I slipped it under his shirt, tracing my fingers across the muscles I could feel on his stomach. He shivered and his lips parted fractionally as he sucked in a breath through his teeth. I watched as his pupils dilated before he leant down, heading to kiss me.
Just as his lips were about to press against mine, I remembered I couldn’t kiss him. I whimpered and pulled back quickly, shaking my head. “No. It’s catching that way,” I protested breathlessly.
He frowned and inched closer again, his gaze firmly fixed on my lips, as if they were his next meal. “I don’t care.”
I wanted to kiss him so much but I couldn’t; I would feel terribly guilty if he got sick, too. I shook my head and turned my face to the side, putting my hand on his chest and pushing him away from me gently.
“Please don’t, Carson. I don’t want you to get sick. We can still have some fun without kissing,” I suggested, my fingers starting on the buttons of his shirt.
He smiled his dimpled little smile before shaking his head and pressing his face into the crook of my neck. “We can’t, Em. It’s closing time, that’s why I woke you up.”
I gasped and jerked up. I had wasted the whole three hours? My whole night with him and I was asleep through it? Disappointment bubbled inside me. I’d waited three two weeks to get my hands on him again, and I ruined it by falling asleep!
“It’s closing time? Damn it. I’m so sorry!” I bit my lip and tried not to cry about it. “I wasted the whole night by being asleep! Oh, God, you paid for the room and everything! Shit. I’m so sorry, Carson. I’ll speak to Jason. You won’t have to pay for it,” I promised, looking at him apologetically. I had no clue how I was going to smooth this over with Jason; my guess would be that I would be paying for the room out of my own pocket, paying the fee Carson had agreed on. I tried desperately not to panic about it.
Carson rolled his eyes and gripped my waist, lying back down on the little sofa and pulling me on top of him. “Emma, will you stop? I paid for the room so you could chill. I wasn’t expecting anything else. I just didn’t want you to work if you’re not well. I got exactly what I paid for.” He cupped my face in his hands and tipped my head back, kissing around my throat again.
He actually paid for the whole night so I could sleep? My love for him made my eyes prickle, so I closed them and just savoured the feel of his soft lips against my skin. I savoured the heat from his hands warming my face. I savoured the way he seemed to make my whole body feel so hot, yet so cold at the same time.
I dug my fingers in his sides as my whole body screamed for more. Carson was the only one who ever made me feel like this, and I loved him so much it was almost painful. He guided my head down onto his shoulder, wrapping his arms around me and rolling to the side, trapping me against the back of the sofa and throwing his leg over the top of mine. He just smiled at me as he looked into my eyes, playing with my hair.
“How do you get home, usually?” he questioned, running his nose along the edge of my jaw.
I whimpered because that little movement made my body ache for his. I silently wished he’d stop teasing me. If this wasn’t going to end with sex then this was going to be keeping me awake tonight like some sort of frustrated horny monster.
“Walk.” I shrugged and played with the collar of his shirt, wishing I could take it off and feel his skin on mine.
He grinned at my answer. “I’m driving you tonight.”
He’d never taken me home before. The night always finished when the club closed; I’d never once seen him outside work. “It’s fine. I’ll walk. It’s only fifteen minutes away.” I wanted to accept so badly but another part of me didn’t really want to tell him where I lived. The block of flats I lived in wasn’t exactly known for its luxury and glamour. He was a millionaire for goodness’ sake; he would probably take one look at it and think I was some sort of damaged goods because of where I came from.
“I’m driving you, Emma. Come on, let’s go.” He pushed himself up, taking my hand and helping me to my feet. I bent to grab my shoes but he scooped them up before I did, smirking at me. “You don’t really want to put those back on; they hurt your feet.”
How did he know that? I nodded. It was true, there no point in denying it. I reached for the water from the table, taking a big swig of it and wincing as it burnt my throat. I greedily shoved in a lozenge, sucking on it, trying to numb my throat a little.
He smiled sympathetically and pulled open the door to the room. “It’s just after two; the club will be closing any minute. You have something to change into so you don’t get cold?” Carson asked, slowly dragging his eyes down my body. A little smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as his gaze lingered on my cleavage.
I playfully slapped his chest lightly as I followed him out of the room. “Pervert,” I scolded.
Suddenly, I realised what he said and I winced. I came here in tracksuit bottoms and a hoodie, and not nice ones either! I couldn’t let him see me in that, but then again, I couldn’t exactly go outside in my uniform; I’d freeze to death or catch pneumonia or something.
“I’m going to go settle my tab. You go get changed and meet me by the bar, okay?” he instructed, holding out my shoes to me.
I bit my lip and reluctantly nodded before heading to the dressing rooms at the back. Once there, I took off my uniform, leaving it in my locker, and pulled on the crappy clothes I’d come in tonight. I looked at myself in the mirror and grimaced at my reflection. I looked awful. My hair was frizzy and sticking out everywhere because of being asleep, and my mascara had smudged under my eyes, giving me a panda look. I was in baggy, grey tracksuit bottoms, dirty trainers, and one of Rory’s black hoodies.
Finding a pack of baby wipes on the side, I dragged one under my eyes to wipe the smudges away, and then ran my fingers through my hair, attempting to tame it a little. When I looked a little less like a homeless person, I grabbed my phone, purse and keys, and headed out to find Carson.