I chuckle. "You need to accept the call first. It's still ringing, you know."
"Shit." She swipes to accept the call and starts over. "Felicity? What's wrong?"
The woman I shagged last night, in the most inventive ways I've ever tried, squints at the sunlight coming in through the semi-transparent drapes and plants a hand on my chest for support. "Huh? Well, yeah, I know I didn't come home last night. Sorry. I didn't mean for you to worry."
Ah, the daughter knows, and the mother is panicking. I can tell that by the way Siobhan keeps winding a lock of hair around her finger over and over.
"No," she says in the kind of stern tone I swear only mothers ever use. "You will do nothing of the sort. How do you know where Nick lives, anyway?"
I stifle a chuckle. Felicity must be threatening to come over here and see what her mother got up to last night.
Siobhan scowls at her daughter, who can't see it. "That is not funny. And I wish you would stop joking about casual sex."
Casual? I don't think what we did last night counts as meaningless sex. It was inventive and athletic, yes, but also intimate. I can't describe how exactly, but it was much more than a fantastic shag.
"Goodbye, Felicity," Siobhan says, then she leans over me to set her mobile on the table.
I pull her down on top of me. "What did Felicity say to you about casual sex?"
"She keeps making jokes about it. Telling me I need to get laid, things like that."
"Does she? Well, you should've set her mind at ease and told her you got laid in the best way imaginable last night."
"Do you honestly think I want to tell my daughter that?"
"I was teasing you. Relax, your secret lover knows his place." Not sure I like being shoved into that place right now, but I did agree to this arrangement. I pat her arse. "I'll make breakfast while you have a shower."
"No time. I have a class to get to." She grasps my chin. "And so do you, Mr. Hunter."
"We're alone—and naked in bed. Call me Nick."
"I have to go home and change into clothes that aren't…" She screws up her entire face. "Clothes that aren't an advertisement for what I did last night."
She's starting to regret it, isn't she? I want to argue with her, using hormones and humor to change her mind, but I can tell she's the type who needs to think about what we've done together. I hate doing it, but I know I need to let her skulk out of my flat and scurry home with her tail between her legs.
I'd much rather she have my cock between those sexy thighs, but I won't be getting what I want this morning.
What else can I do? I squeeze her arse. "Go on. Flee from the scene of the crime. I'll have toaster pastries and orange juice on my own."
She jumps off the bed and hunts for her clothes.
Bloody hell. I don't even get a kiss goodbye. Maybe I am a gigolo after all.
Once she's found her skirt and underwear, she grabs the shirt I let her borrow last night. "May I wear this? I'll get it back to you later."
"Go on, wear it all day long. I dare you."
Her lips twitch like she wants to smile but thinks it might be a violation of the ethics code.
Then she rushes back to the bed, bends over, and kisses me. "Thank you, Nick. Last night was amazing."
She puts on my shirt, tying it in a knot at her waist, and walks out the door into the living room. I lie in bed until I hear the front door open and close.
Groaning, I get up and get dressed. Siobhan Griffin is the sexiest woman I've ever met, hands down. But I don't think she realizes what she's done. That woman has turned me into the one thing I've fought for two months to convince the world I'm not.
I've become a gigolo. Might as well give her a "special" massage and have done with it.That'll be fifty quid, please, cash only.
No, I will not feel sorry for myself. I agreed to this arrangement, and I won't renege. Somehow, I will convince that bloody-minded woman I'm more than a secret lover.