[THIS BOOK CONTAINS MATURE THEMES WHICH IS ACCEPTABLE FOR 18+ READERS ONLY]
"Yes?" His deep voice growls. It's so deep, so velvety. I can feel myself getting aroused. Aroused in ways I've never felt before.
"I was told to come and speak to you abou...
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Jackson Blake's POV
As my eyes roll open, I can feel the stinging pain across my body. As my brain recomputes, I realise the night I'd experienced before. I had had sex with Slater Devor, and it was arguably the best experience of my life. As I sit up, the bedsheets curl around my naked body, my body aches, and groans as I do. The room is silent, with not a person in sight. A pang of pain lights in my stomach. I had hoped to wake to the gorgeous man I'd slept with the night before by my side.
I pull myself from Slater's bed, the bedsheets pool at my feet as I make my way to the bathroom. My hair is fluffy and straying in all different directions and a blush graces my cheeks. I sort myself out, getting into the freshly laid clothes on the countertop as usual. It's strange, having someone organise my things, I feel like a six-year-old all over again. Before you know it someone will be in to tie my shoelaces.
I hear the door of the bedroom swing open and in front of me stands the man that had taken the last shred of innocence away from me the night before. "Morning," I mutter but he takes no notice, instead he focuses on stripping himself down to nothing but his briefs. I can't help but stare, his back is turned away from me and the muscles of his back are show off his strength. I just want to graze my fingers across them. He dresses in a white shirt and black dress pants, he likes to dress smart, like a businessman in a busy city.
As he finishes, he turns his gaze to me, our eyes meeting, he knows I've been staring but he doesn't mention it. "We're leaving in 20 minutes." That's all he says before striding back over to the door and into the hallway, out of my sight. Where would he be taking me?
I sort myself out, before walking down the corridors and out the front doors. The cold breeze bites at my skin, this is Scotland, it doesn't have the same beachy heat as Los Angeles. Slater stands next to his Bugatti, how he got it here I don't know. He's wrapped in a thick black coat, sheltering him from the sharp air. He moves round to the driver's side as he catches me approaching, so I get into the passenger seat and crank up the heat. He shoots me a look but the car is cold and I can't sit in this icy blaze for much longer.
He pulls off and the car journey is an awkward silence. "What sort of music do you like?" I query, but he remains quiet, eyes firmly on the road. I wanted him to talk to me. Just engage in a small bit of conversation with me and realise I'm not bad company.
"I don't listen to music," I was shocked to hear his response, it pulled me out of my thoughts. You see Slater has more of a British accent, it's not strong, not the queen's English, no not even close, it sounds very generic, like a fusion of an American and English accent. It's not posh, it's not sharp or has a drawl to it, it's just deep and sexy in its own way.
"How can you not listen to any music? Do you not just enjoy getting lost in your thoughts?" I ponder but he shrugs his shoulders. "Do you ever sit back and relax? Every time I see you, you have a file in your hand or a laptop, do you ever just enjoy yourself?"
