London Falling (3 page)

The surroundings blurred. Shook. “Fuck, Bridge! Yes, yes…” came the voice of my best friend as globs of sticky cum coated my hand. My entire body accepted his pleasure with a euphoric rush of adrenalin. Realization dawned and I became aware of what had just taken place.

Not again.

Tripp’s breath was labored against my neck. He kissed his way to my mouth, gliding along my skin until he reached his goal. His lips covered mine and for a brief moment, I allowed it, appreciating the softness in his kiss. Then the real world crashed down, splintering into a million tiny shards of irritation. I shoved his large body hard, almost pushing him off the bed.

“What the hell, Tripp!” I yelled. “Not cool!” The wood floor of my apartment connected with my bare feet, sending shards of ice through my instep and up my legs as I stomped into the bathroom on the cold, hard, floors.

“Come on, Bridge. I needed you!” His voice came across sounding like a wounded puppy.

Washing his release off my hands in the bathroom sink I took a long hard look at my face in the mirror. My sleep tussled hair would take a miracle to tame. I had rosy cheeks from thinking I was having a private moment with Collier,
not
Tripp. The pupils of my eyes were dilated, so black with lust over the Englishman I could barely see the blue of my irises.

“Are you mad?” Tripp’s voice was small and I hated it instantly. He leaned against the door, a defeated look plastered across his gorgeous face. I was not going to be another person who screwed him over, literally or figuratively.

“Yes.” I looked him in the eyes expressing my irritation. His features were drawn and apologetic. “So, how was it?” My lips twitched into a smirk.

His answering grin was huge and spread over modelesque features. It was hard to stay mad at such a lovely creature. My best friend was beautiful. Inside and out, though he would disagree with my assessment. His dark chiseled bone structure and light eyes made him the perfect playboy and he lived up to his title. Tripp was the definition of a man-whore. He loved men and women alike.

Often when I’d come home to spend time away from my clients, I’d find him sprawled across the furniture with a new piece of arm candy, looking freshly fucked. I stopped asking names long ago. They rarely were invited for a second go-around with Tripp.

Then again, I was no better in many ways. I took my pleasure when and where I wanted it. The “who” seemed to differ quite often as well. Traditional relationships were not my thing. Aside from Tripp. He was the only constant male in my life besides Daddy and my brother, Rio.

“Bridge, baby, sometimes it’s hard for me to keep my hands off you.” He leered and gave me a full head to toe Tripp once over. My nipples hardened against my camisole, more because of the feelings I felt pumping off of him like a firehouse shooting water at a burning building than my own attraction.

“Tripp,” I warned. “We’ve had our fun in the past but…”

“I know, I know. We’re friends. Best friends. I can’t help it sometimes. You’re fucking hot.” He came and put his arms around my waist and hugged me, my back to the solid muscle of his bare chest. He inhaled against my hair. “You smell so good.” He nuzzled my neck then slipped his hands up my waist and over my breasts, firmly gripping each globe. “And your body is fucking incredible.” He tweaked my nipples through the fabric of my camisole and I pushed him away, shaking my head.

“You and I both know this never works. We both have issues…” He nodded in full understanding.

“I don’t want to screw up what we have. But that doesn’t stop me from wanting to fuck you.” The man was nothing if not honest.

Every few months he would make sexual advances toward me again. We’d had sex
many
times in the past. It was phenomenal. We’re very compatible as sexual partners. It’s real life we couldn’t handle. Each and every time we had sex in the past, we both became distant toward one another. It ruined our easy going friendship for a solid couple months. The problem always seemed to be that we loved each other; we just weren’t in love.

Tripp and I wanted to be with other people. Monogamy was not an option. That’s a fact we had in common. So we agreed to stop having sex and focus on the genuine love we had for one another. The best friend kind.

Real lovers, the kind of romance that lasts a lifetime, doesn’t allow for other relationships. Tripp and I wanted both. I’d had the real kind once. Never again.

“So where are you staying this month?” he asked, changing the subject.

“Dylan Matthews is my next client. Investment banker.”

Tripp pretended to yawn. “Booooorrrriiiinnngggg!” His smile was infectious and I snickered along with him.

Turning on the water for the shower, I removed my clothes and stepped in. Tripp hopped up on the bathroom counter and watched me. He’d seen me naked more times than I could remember. I wasn’t shy. “So what about double-o-seven from last night?”

“Collier Stone?” My tone sounded sultry, even to my own ears. “He’s who I thought I was giving a handy to this morning when you so rudely interrupted my dream fantasy.”

“Really? Interesting. You dreamt about a man?”

“Yes. Don’t sound so surprised. I have the occasional wet dream.” Not really. Usually I sleep like a rock, a dreamless rock.

“Since when? You never once told me about your dreams. I actually remember you saying you don’t dream.”

The damn man had a perfect memory. It was tiring. You could never pull one over on him. “That’s ridiculous. Everyone dreams, Tripp.”

“Yeah, but you never remember them. Now you’re dreaming about a man you met last night, and kissed, I might add. That was a little fast, even for you.” He laughed loud enough for me to hear it over the running water.

He was right. Kissing Collier last night was an unusual response, even for me. Typically I’m not shy around men I want but generally not so aggressive. I practically devoured the man on the sidewalk after barely meeting him. He tasted good too. Everything about the man was rich and thick, like a full bodied cabernet.

“I was really proud of you…and turned on. Hence the need for the hand-job.” He lifted both arms and made a jazz-hands movement. “Thanks for that, by the way.”

“I hope you enjoyed it because you’re not getting another one.” The moment I turned off the water he opened the door and held a towel open for me. I stepped into it and he wrapped it around drawing me into his arms.

“So are you considering making a change from your normal MO?” Tripp asked as I tucked another towel around my wet hair.

“In what way?”

“Well, it’s probably about time you let a man in.”

I shrugged and shook the towel around my hair squeezing out the wetness. “You know, I’m happy the way things are. I don’t need a man to be happy. I’m in control of my life and most importantly, my heart.” Tripp’s question struck a chord that hadn’t been played in a long while. Since James died I’d worked hard to glue the pieces of my broken soul back together. For the most part, I’d done well. I get what I physically need from the men I bed casually, and I have emotional companionship in Tripp. “Besides, I have you. Why would I need anyone else?”

Tripp smiled wide and shook the towel in my hair and then pulled it off. He pushed the wet hair behind my ears running his fingers through it and down my scalp. “And you always will have me.” He ducked his head down so we were forehead to forehead gazes locked. “You know I love you, right?” His voice was sweet and tender. He was trying to make amends for taking advantage this morning. This habit was old and worn through many years of trial and error. If Tripp did something to upset me, he’d immediately need to re-establish our connection and confirm my love. That screwed up bitch of a Mother of his tortured him into believing he was unlovable. “More than anyone?”

“More than anyone,” I assured him. He smacked my towel covered ass. “Ouch!”

“Good. Now get moving. We have one full day together and I’m not letting any of it go to waste. “

I heard the shower turn back on as I entered my walk-in closet. My relationship with Tripp was unconventional but it was mine and I wouldn’t change it.

Instinctively, I thought back to last night when I kissed Collier. Gooseflesh broke across my skin. Just the memory of the man’s lips and body against mine had my nerve endings thrumming. I could imagine his essence surrounding me, making me feel whole again. It’d had been a few weeks since I’d been with a man. Briefly I wondered how long it would take him to find me. Would he even seek me out? I had a strong feeling he would. That kiss was memorable to say the least.

***

London Kelley. I couldn’t get the bloody bird out of my head. Visions of her invaded my thoughts throughout the horrendous week. For days I’d dealt with a celebrity debacle with one of our rock stars destroying a New York hotel suite. Apparently daft, coked-up rock stars thought it funny to use a flat screen telly to slide down the stairs of a posh two story penthouse in downtown Manhattan. Same blokes escorted slappers scantily dressed through the hotel lobby and proceeded to publicly shag them in the lifts. Each member of the band was arrested on public indecency and vandalism charges after the hotel concierge called the cops on them. Of course we settled out of court and paid the hotel off, leaving me with a mountain of paperwork, but they will pay the firm for it in spades. It reminded me I needed a legal assistant.

Hearing a soft knock on the door, I lifted my head to see Nathaniel standing with his overcoat, ready to leave for the day. “Cheerio, old mate.”

“Hey Nathaniel, I need a favor.”

He entered my office and sat in one of the plush leather armchairs. “Anything, old chap.”

“Bollocks, I’m not that old!” Ever since we were little boys he would complain that he was younger. Now that we’re adults he constantly reminded me of that fact, though lately I’ve felt well beyond my thirty years.

“You act old. When was the last time you had a good shagging or went off on a bender?”

“The former is none of your business, the latter well, I could use a good night with me mates, yeah?”

“This weekend, we’ll call a couple lads, maybe pick up some ladies and have a good time. I want to introduce you to a new buddy of mine, Hank Jensen. He’s dating a client of ours, remember Aspen Reynolds?” His light brown hair fell over his forehead as he waggled his brows and grinned.

“You’re incorrigible. But speaking of women, I’d like to get in touch with London Kelley.” I focused on the papers in front of me and tried to look as nonchalant as possible.

“You fancy Ms. Kelley, yeah?” His smirk was undeniable as he pulled out his cell phone. He grabbed a notecard and pen and copied her telephone number onto it, along with her address. “Just call that number there, and Bob’s your uncle! You’ve got her.”

“Thanks mate. I think I will. There’s just something about this girl.”

“Well, she’s a fit bird,” he said. “Brilliant choice. You know, Aspen Reynolds is her sister. If calling doesn’t work, maybe I could plan a meeting with Hank and Aspen, have her bring along her sister.” With that he stood and saluted as he left.

I stared at the phone number on the notecard. Brilliant choice indeed. Scanning the number I made the call. A deep male voice answered on the second ring. “Hello?” It surprised me because I thought London was unattached. It was entirely possible, bloody likely that she had a man in her life.

“Hello. Yes, I was hoping to speak with Ms. Kelley.” A glance at the clock told me it was six in the evening. Perfectly respectable time to receive calls.

“She’s with a client. Is this her James Bond?” the man asked. I now recognized the voice as Tripp Devereaux.

“I’m sorry?” I answered confused.

“You’re the Brit we met at the Maxwell reveal last week, right? The one who had his tongue down my girl’s throat if I remember correctly?” His tone was filled with mirth but it jangled my nerves, making me feel the need to explain.

“Tripp, she made it clear that the two of you were not a couple, mate. I’m sorry if I misunderstood.” The pencil I was holding was neatly broken in half.

Did she lie to me?
Why would she lead me on if she was in a relationship? Perhaps she wanted to make him jealous?

A full-bellied laugh came across the phone line. “We’re not a couple.” His voice still contained hints of humor which had my ire building. “London doesn’t do the couple thing, Mr. Bond.”

“It’s Collier, Tripp. What do you mean; London doesn’t do the couple thing?”

“It means, she is not in a relationship, nor does she do relationships. She prefers to stay unattached.”

“I see. When will she be home?” I didn’t really see what he meant. Far from it, actually. The little bits I picked up about Ms. Kelley only gave me introspection on how complex the woman was.

“Don’t know. You’ve reached her home and office. However, when she’s staying with a client I’m not sure when she’ll be home. If you’d like to give me your number, I can get her a message.”

I rattled off my phone number and rang off with Tripp. Such an odd duck, that one. If she’s not home, why was he answering her phone? Did he live with her? Everything about this woman was a mystery, one I was becoming more and more determined to solve.

***

“Sweetheart, I know you’re hurting.” His eyes held a longing that would not be fulfilled.

“James, I just… this is so unfair. There hasn’t been enough time…”

“London, you have to be strong. I know you can. You’re going to be fine. And one day, you will see our time together as a beautiful memory.”

“No. I’ll never get over you.”

His eyes smiled until it reached his lips. “Sweetie Pie, it’s not fair to hold your love away from another. I don’t want that for you.”

“It’s true; you’ve ruined me for all others. I wish…”

“Shhhh, London, don’t waste wishes that were not meant to come true. Someday, you will be loved.”

“London, are you hungry?” Dylan’s voice cut through my daydream.

My newest client was the perfect gentleman and host. And as Tripp expected, boring. Investment banking did not provide much excitement in his life. He lived a sheltered, mundane lifestyle. His world had little entertainment.