Read Online Remember My Name by Abbey Clancy - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Abbey Clancy
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wanted. In fact—and I’m so glad I didn’t actually say this out loud—I was gagging for it. I’d always tried to have good intentions about Jack; no matter how good-looking or charming he was, I’d tried to avoid thinking about it becoming anything more. Because he was my boss. Because I didn’t want to behave like an idiot and get the knock back if he wasn’t interested, beyond a few casual kisses. Because I knew I was vulnerable—my glamorous life was taking its toll on me, with the long hours and all the hard work for so little return. I wasn’t at my strongest, and didn’t want to make it all even worse by getting my knickers in a twist about a man.
But, well … I’m only flesh and blood, you know? And it’s not like I jumped into bed with him. We’d taken the time to get to know each other. We’d had coffee dates and dinner dates and drinks dates. We’d had kisses and cuddles and long, lingering moments where things could have moved quicker—but they hadn’t. We’d taken it slow. Or—if I was being really honest with myself—Jack had taken it slow.
So, cutting a long story short, I’d spent the night at his flat. His penthouse apartment on the top of a modern buildingwith views over the Thames—a place that I’d have to call a bachelor pad. It was ultra-sleek and ultra-stylish and it had an ultra-big bed—which is where we spent most of the night.
A lady doesn’t kiss and tell—and neither do I—but it had been fantastic. I was a bit drunk, which helped—I worry less about the way my body looks when I’m a bit drunk, which makes it all a lot better. It’s no fun when you’re too busy holding your tummy in to enjoy yourself, is it? Plus, there was the Jack factor—the way he made me feel, during our dates: as if I was the centre of his world, and he was lucky to be spending time with me. Well, he was like that in the bedroom as well.
I’m not that experienced when it comes to sex—I’ve not had very many boyfriends, and the only time I ever had a one-night stand, I didn’t know it was going to be one until the next morning. But I was experienced enough to understand that Jack was good at it—and that he could become addictive.
That was the only thing that was worrying me, as I scuttled around the office carrying the tray of drinks and cookies back to the PR pillocks. That I’d be too into him. That I’d do that girl thing and mix up good sex and good company with something more, and blow it all out of proportion. That even if I didn’t intend to, I’d find myself doodling Jess Duncan on scrap paper to see what my new signature would look like.
We’d had a bit of a talk about it, afterwards. When we were lying tangled up in his silk sheets, listening to softly playing soul music, the candles he’d lit around the bed burning low and filling the room with the scent of something spicy and musky. We agreed that whatever happened next, we’d need to keep it a secret—for both our sakes.
He didn’t want to be seen as the Starmaker lech, taking advantage of the talent. And I didn’t want to be seen as a slapper, understandably enough.
‘Let’s just go with the flow, Jess,’ he’d said, stroking my hair and leaning forward to gently kiss me. ‘See where this takes us—letting other people in on it will only complicate matters. I want to have you all to myself for a while, anyway. I’m selfish like that.’
The way he’d said that had sounded so romantic—wanting me all to himself. Like I was a chocolate fudge cake or something. And last night, I’d been happy with that. This morning, as I scooted around my flat trying to find clean underwear and wondering if all that energetic bonking had earned me a bacon buttie for breakfast, I’d still been happy with that.
Now, as I tried to work and found myself constantly finding excuses to walk past Jack’s office, I wasn’t so sure. I’d checked my phone about three million times. I’d casually chatted to Heidi at
But, well … I’m only flesh and blood, you know? And it’s not like I jumped into bed with him. We’d taken the time to get to know each other. We’d had coffee dates and dinner dates and drinks dates. We’d had kisses and cuddles and long, lingering moments where things could have moved quicker—but they hadn’t. We’d taken it slow. Or—if I was being really honest with myself—Jack had taken it slow.
So, cutting a long story short, I’d spent the night at his flat. His penthouse apartment on the top of a modern buildingwith views over the Thames—a place that I’d have to call a bachelor pad. It was ultra-sleek and ultra-stylish and it had an ultra-big bed—which is where we spent most of the night.
A lady doesn’t kiss and tell—and neither do I—but it had been fantastic. I was a bit drunk, which helped—I worry less about the way my body looks when I’m a bit drunk, which makes it all a lot better. It’s no fun when you’re too busy holding your tummy in to enjoy yourself, is it? Plus, there was the Jack factor—the way he made me feel, during our dates: as if I was the centre of his world, and he was lucky to be spending time with me. Well, he was like that in the bedroom as well.
I’m not that experienced when it comes to sex—I’ve not had very many boyfriends, and the only time I ever had a one-night stand, I didn’t know it was going to be one until the next morning. But I was experienced enough to understand that Jack was good at it—and that he could become addictive.
That was the only thing that was worrying me, as I scuttled around the office carrying the tray of drinks and cookies back to the PR pillocks. That I’d be too into him. That I’d do that girl thing and mix up good sex and good company with something more, and blow it all out of proportion. That even if I didn’t intend to, I’d find myself doodling Jess Duncan on scrap paper to see what my new signature would look like.
We’d had a bit of a talk about it, afterwards. When we were lying tangled up in his silk sheets, listening to softly playing soul music, the candles he’d lit around the bed burning low and filling the room with the scent of something spicy and musky. We agreed that whatever happened next, we’d need to keep it a secret—for both our sakes.
He didn’t want to be seen as the Starmaker lech, taking advantage of the talent. And I didn’t want to be seen as a slapper, understandably enough.
‘Let’s just go with the flow, Jess,’ he’d said, stroking my hair and leaning forward to gently kiss me. ‘See where this takes us—letting other people in on it will only complicate matters. I want to have you all to myself for a while, anyway. I’m selfish like that.’
The way he’d said that had sounded so romantic—wanting me all to himself. Like I was a chocolate fudge cake or something. And last night, I’d been happy with that. This morning, as I scooted around my flat trying to find clean underwear and wondering if all that energetic bonking had earned me a bacon buttie for breakfast, I’d still been happy with that.
Now, as I tried to work and found myself constantly finding excuses to walk past Jack’s office, I wasn’t so sure. I’d checked my phone about three million times. I’d casually chatted to Heidi at
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