Crossing my legs, I place the tray on my lap and slice into the steak, humming a satisfied moan around my fork. The Manor does food very well.
‘Good?’
I feel Jesse’s chin resting on my shoulder. ‘Very,’ I mumble around my steak. ‘You want to try?’
He nods, opening his mouth. I slice a piece of steak and hold it over my shoulder for him to take. ‘Hmmm, very good.’ he says around his chew.
‘More?’ I ask. His eyes widen in appreciation, so I cut him another piece, passing it over my shoulder again. He watches me as he wraps his full lips around my fork and slowly pulls the steak off. I can’t help the big smile that breaks out across my face. His eyes sparkle with pleasure and he struggles to prevent his own smile as he chews. He clamps his hands on my shoulders and buries his face in my neck from behind.
He nips playfully at my neck. ‘You taste better.’
My smile broadens as he makes a meal of chewing at my throat, growling and nuzzling to his heart’s content. I laugh, raising my shoulder when he latches onto my ear, his hot breath causing shudders to course through me. He entices so many extreme reactions from me – extreme frustration, extreme desire and extreme happiness are just a few. This man works me, and he works me well.
‘You eat,’ he says as he kisses my temple tenderly. He starts circling his thumbs into the top of my back. ‘You’re tense. Why are you tense?’ he asks.
I roll my neck in gratitude. I’m tense because I’m here – it’s the only reason. How can one woman make me feel so uncomfortable? There’s a knock on Jesse’s office door.
‘Yes?’ He carries on working my shoulders as Sarah walks in.
Ah, speak of the devil. The atmosphere instantly cools as she clocks Jesse massaging my shoulders, her facial expression altering significantly. I notice it, but Jesse seems oblivious to the chilly undertones of her presence. I tense further, suddenly wanting Jesse’s hands off of me. That’s something I never thought I would want. But right now, I feel like an impostor, and the icy glare I’m getting thrown at me has me shifting uncomfortably in my seat. I’m really not helping my cause, sat here, legs crossed, all cosy on the sofa, with a steak in my lap and Mr Godly working his magic on me.
‘Your figures,’ she grumbles, waving the folder and walking casually over to Jesse’s desk to place them in front of his chair. She turns to face us, throwing daggers at me. Oh, she really hates me.
‘Thanks, Sarah.’ He leans down and brushes his lips over my cheek, inhaling deeply before releasing me. ‘I have to work now, baby. Eat your dinner.’ I see Sarah scowl briefly before reinstating the fake smile on her pouty face when Jesse turns towards her. He reaches into his jean pocket. ‘Have one hundred thousand transferred into this account ASAP.’ he instructs, handing her an envelope.
‘One hundred?’ Sarah blurts. She glances down at the envelope.
‘Yes. Now, please.’ He leaves her staring at the paper, taking his seat up behind his desk, completely ignorant to her gaping mouth. She flicks me a murderous look. It’s then I realise that it’s the envelope Sally gave him.
One hundred thousand? That’s way too much. What’s he thinking? I want to say something. Should I say something? I look at Sarah. She’s stood there scrutinising me, pursing her red lips. I don’t blame her. I just want to crawl under the sofa and die. One hundred thousand? Christ, she already thinks I’m after his money.
‘That’s all, Sarah.’ Jesse dismisses her and she turns to leave, but not before throwing a scowl in my direction.
She saunters over to the door, meeting John at the threshold. He nods at her before moving to the side to let her pass, shutting the door behind her. He flicks me a nod, and I smile before resuming the picking of my salad and steak. Yeah, my appetite has run for the hills. I need to speak to him and ask what role that woman plays in his life. And why does she hate me so much? I place the tray back on the coffee table to pour some wine, but I notice Pete’s only brought one glass, so I take myself over to the side board, collect a tumbler for myself and return to the sofa to pour the wine. When I place the glass on Jesse’s desk, John stops talking and they both look at the glass, then to me.
Jesse picks it up, handing it back to me. ‘I’m fine, thank you, baby,’ He smiles. ‘I’m driving.’
‘Oh,’ I take the glass back. ‘Sorry.’
‘Don’t be, you have it. I got the wine for you.’
I take my place on the sofa, picking up a magazine called SuperBike. It’s the only one so it will have to do.
I start flicking through, loosing myself in the articles on superbikes, MotoGP and getting myself over excited when I find a section especially devoted to superbike passengers or riding pillion, as I now know it to be termed. Is Jesse’s a superbike? I read the rules of riding pillion, along with an article entitled “Safety First”. I’ll make him wear leathers, if it’s the last thing I do. I’m completely lost in details of four-stroke engines, horsepower ratings and the approaching Milan Motorcycle show, when I feel warm hands wrap around my neck from behind. I drop my head back to look at his upside down features.
He blesses me with his roguish grin. ‘I’ve started something, haven’t I?’ He bends and drops his lips onto my forehead.
‘Why haven’t you upgraded to the 1198?’
He smiles. ‘I have, but I prefer the 1098.’
‘Oh, how many do you have?’
‘Twelve.’