The Boleyn Effect (The Boorman Ending) (7 page)

My back hits the door as
his mouth swamps mine. The unspoken signals that bristled between
us as we made our way to the studio were undeniable. I was
surprised we made it this far, before giving in. There is only so
much small talk one can give before enough is enough.

Now in the alleyway where
my door entrance stands, I'm pressed back into the plastic with
Harry's body holding me in place. I can feel his erection throb
near my hip and provocatively I push myself against him. A moan
escaping against my mouth as his tongue leaves mine.

Breathlessly, he pulls
away and looks down at me with his blue eyes hidden in the shadows.
Running my tongue over my lips I can still taste the Bitter he's
just drunk. Groaning, he leans in to kiss me again, but I turn my
back on him with a smile and ram the key into the Yale
lock.

'I thought you wanted to
see my work?' I question huskily, opening the door.

'I do,' he
breathes.

He closes the door behind
us and in the dark narrow foyer he pulls me back against him so his
back is against the door and my back is against him. Monty has been
left to wander as his master is kept busy.

Harry's hands are soon
beneath my shirt as he thumbs my erect nipples through my bra and
they harden further. I moan out loudly as he teases and pulls. He
has no qualms about boundaries and I wonder if he knows enough
about body language to know how I want this. Pushing into the bra
cup he takes my full aching breast into his hand and continues to
tease with his thumb.

Everywhere aches and my
legs are already beginning to shake. I find I'm frantically trying
to maintain some equilibrium, but again I find myself on the back
foot. It's as though he know exactly what buttons to press in order
to get to me. I need to get him to want me more. I am the one who's
in control here not him.

Pushing my arse further
against his hardness, I gyrate against him causing him to pull my
face back to his and kiss me harder. His tongue darts in and out of
my mouth, toying with my own in swift soft strokes.

I don't ever remember
being kissed like this and I have kissed plenty. It's so hot and
giving. I know it sounds odd, but he kisses me for my pleasure
rather than trying to swallow me whole with an over consuming
mouth.

'God, Leigh, you're so...I
want you...let me have you,' he murmurs as his mouth travels down
my neck.

'Yes,' I gasp.

With one hand remaining at
a breast the other travels downward and popping my button he delves
into my panties and enters me with his fingers. I buck against him
as he pushes deep.

Like his tongue, his
fingers move gently, but focused. He's prolonging the pleasure. I
hate to admit that he's already this good and it's just foreplay.
The man may be older, but he knows what he's doing and how to work
those fingers. I'm not honestly expecting to feel so aroused by his
touch, but I am. He's letting me know if this is what he can do
with his fingers than imagine what he can do with his
cock.

But it can't get that far.
Not yet and I'm about to start the next stage of game before my
body gives in and allows him and me some satisfaction. But it's
proving so hard and I don't want him to stop, not when I'm so damn
close. Maybe I could...no! I have to.

'Stop!' I gasp out loud.
'Please stop.'

I grab his wrist and force
his hand from inside me pulling away. Hot and flustered he looks at
me confused and a little wounded.

'I'm sorry,' I offer. 'I
didn't mean to lead you on...'

'Then why did you?' he
asks a little sharply.

'Because I really like you
and we seem to have something, but it wasn't long ago that I met
your wife. I'm just not good on being the bit on the
side.'

His eyes soften slightly
and he runs his fingers through his blond curls. I have to hold
myself steady, because this could go one or two ways and I'm taking
a gamble that he'll play the way I am predicting.

'Shit, yes, you're right.
Of course you're right. I didn't mean...it's just there is
something between us. I felt it the first time we met, but I would
never expect you to be a bit on the side. I respect you too much
for that.'

'You don't know me enough
to respect me,' I say.

'I know enough,' he
whispers.

I inwardly breathe out and
I lick my drying puffed up lips. His eye catches mine and there it
is. That spark once more and he takes a step forward, but with a
shake of my head I step back.

'I'm sorry,' I whisper
demurely.

He nods and then calling
the dog he says his goodbyes and leaves. Waiting for a moment I
reach into my pocket and dial George's number.

CHAPTER
TEN

'How many text messages
has he sent you?' George asks.

'About twenty or thirty,'
I answer.

'And how many have you
answered?'

'None.'

'Good girl.'

It's been three days since
Harry and I were making out in my studio foyer and since I've been
bombarded by apologetic text messages begging forgiveness. Begging
to see me again to explain, but all he's had is silence. If I'm
honest, it's been just as exhausting ignoring them. The temptation
just to send him something is strong and in the end I've resorted
to keeping it on silent so I don't hear it chime.

Then there's the guilt of
betraying Katherine. I'd promised myself that I wasn't going to get
sucked into this façade and after a few hours in Harry's company
I've dropped myself well and truly in it. George sits smugly in the
same studio questioning me while I set up a shot of some
new-fangled hair products.

The theme is gothic and so
my display table resembles something out of a vampire movie with
black and red silks all over and a few dried roses for added
affect. Lucky for us, Clair is out doing the sandwich run and so we
are able to talk alone.

'I still can't believe
that you went ahead and did it,' George smiles.

'Well he was there and I
thought why not seize the opportunity,' I answer.

'So what's he
like?'

I turn away from where
I've been fiddling with the silks towards George. There's smile on
his face, but his eyes seemed to have darkened. Jealousy maybe? No,
he wanted this to happen, but then maybe he didn't expect it
to.

He'd been majorly pissed
that it had not been instigated by him. It's George's game, so he
thinks he must control it, but I prefer to seize the day and I well
and truly seized something when I was with Harry.

'You know, not bad for an
older guy,' I answer diplomatically.

I turn away and back to my
set and I can hear George almost sighing with relief. I don't want
to admit that after our illicit canoodling I had no choice but too
cool myself down.

The orgasm I had given
myself after had been the most intense ever and it left me
wondering what it would have been like if Harry had given me it. It
had taken so much effort for me to say stop and that I would be
more than happy for it to happen again. I know George enough that
some details he doesn't want to hear.

'Well he must have
something, because he's never short of admirers.'

I check my lighting
ignoring him for a moment. I can already tell he is about to sulk.
It is like dealing with a small child sometimes. The doorbell
ringing through the studio breaks the rising mood.

'It's Clair,' I say.
'She'll have locked herself out.'

George gets to his feet
and disappears. A moment later he shouts my name. Moaning, I leave
what I'm doing and go toward the door and then gasp out in
surprise. George turns to look at me and there's a dark look in his
eyes.

'Something for Miss
Boorman,' he sneers.

The courier looks at us
both through the three dozen red roses with just a single white
tied up with ribbon.

'Who're they from?' I ask
without offering to take them.

'There's a card,' the
courier mumbles.

George reaches up and
grabs the card reading...

'I'm sorry. I want to be
friends. Yours H x.'

'Yours? I thought you just
fooled around?' George asks stiffly.

I flush with
embarrassment, not really wanting this conversation in front of a
courier.

'Yeah we did. It wasn't
worth this,' I say waving a hand towards the flowers.

'Well clearly it was.'
George looks at me and places the card back into the
film.

'What do you want me to
do?' I ask.

I know what to do, but if
I ask George for direction it may steer him away from the mood he's
descending into.

'Remember what she did in
the beginning,' he says.

Nodding I understand. I'd
read and reread all the accounts until my head hurts. Anne Boleyn
was showered with jewels by Henry and every time she sent them back
to him unopened.

'Take them back,' I
say.

The courier looks as
though he's going to drop the roses.

'Excuse me?' he
says.

'Take them back. I don't
want them.'

'I can't just take 'em
back to the shop, can't you just take 'em and bin 'em?' he
stutters.

'Don't take them back to
the shop. Send them back to the person who ordered them,' I say
firmly.

The courier looks at us
both like we were mad and then shrugging he stalks away, just as
Clair arrives back.

'Whoa, what's all that
about?'

George and I glance at
each other. 'Wrong address,' we both lie together.

She gives us a puzzled
frown before disappearing into the studio. George and I look at
each other.

'This is going to get
messy,' I whisper.

'Only if you don't keep
your head. Don't try and do this yourself. Allow me to take
control.'

This is how it was going
to start. I am handing myself over to my best friend and I hope
that he's going to keep me safe and sane.

CHAPTER
ELEVEN

It's the crack of dawn
when I arrive at work and I find Harry waiting for me. The previous
night, me and Clair had decided to stage an attack on the town and
after midnight I was left with no other choice, but to escort a
worse for wear Clair home and stay with her. For me it had been one
of those nights where no matter what I drunk nothing touched the
sides, but now in the clear light of day I’m grateful for the clear
head.

Stepping out of his car,
he walks towards me with more flowers. I sigh, because I've already
sent back five bouquets. Always three dozen red roses with a single
white one in the centre. I have no idea why, but admittedly they
are beautiful and it's taken my all not to accept them. He must
have spent a fortune only for me to throw them back at him and
these are just apologetic gifts.

What would he be like with
a mistress? But then would such gifts be more fitting for the long
suffering wife rather than me? I take a breath and try and keep
myself focused.

'What can I do for you?' I
ask.

There's the start of a
flashy smile and just like that it is gone like I've stomped on all
of his toys.

'Why did you return all
the flowers?'

'Because I have done
nothing to deserve them,' I answer.

'That's beside the point.
I want you to have them,' he pushes.

'These are the sort of
flowers you should be buying your wife, not some girl who you had a
quick fumble with.'

'You are not some girl and
I...'

'That's exactly what I am.
You don't even know me,' I interrupt.

'Please will you accept
these?'

'No, I can't.'

'But why?'

'You know why Harry,' I
answer. 'I hate to state the obvious, but you are a married
man.'

I unlock my door and
disarm the alarm. He follows close behind and his smell makes my
body tingle. It's a smell of spiced body wash mixed with a musky
body spray. The memory of being pulled back against the door
moistens me and I quickly try to focus on something else. I can't
let this sexual attraction rule me. Because that's what's happening
here. Sexual attraction and its coming from both ways.

'Kat and I... It's not a
good marriage. We are like business partners,' he says.

He's still holding the
roses and I'm so tempted to take them from him, but I can't and
what he's just said causes my heart sink heavily. The good ole line
of my wife and I don't have a good marriage. He really is no
different to everyone else.

'I'm not stupid Harry, you
say you wanna be friends, but then you lie to me. Friends don't
lie.'

'I didn't...' he
starts.

'Ok, just tell me one
thing and tell me the truth and then maybe I’ll accept those
roses.'