Read Online The Second Time I Saw You: The Oxford Blue Series #2 by Pippa Croft - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Pippa Croft
Ads: Link
born.’
He unscrews the cap and sloshes the contents firstinto one glass and then another, leaving a tiny puddle of amber pooling on the silver tray.
My head has started to throb. ‘Not for me, thanks.’
He frowns, his eyes full of hurt. ‘You have to try it. You have to drink it
now
, or when will you? Who knows when “when” will be. Here …’
The tumbler trembles a little as he hands it to me and leans over, his breath reeking of whisky. He’s off his face already but who can blame him?
He holds the glass in front of him, and the crystal and amber liquid glisten like jewels in the firelight. I cradle mine in my hands and he sniffs the glass, takes a sip and leans back against the chair, with a dramatic sigh.
‘Now isn’t that the best fucking thing you’ve ever tasted?’ He looks at me lustfully. ‘Apart from me, of course.’
I take a sip and try to look as if I’m enjoying it for his sake, although by now I’m just wishing he’d stop drinking.
‘I’m no whisky buff but I’ll admit that it’s good.’
‘
Good
?
Is that all you can say about a bottle of whisky that costs a grand?’
‘I don’t care how much it costs,’ I say.
He laughs, and tosses back a third of the measure, which was generous in the first place. ‘My father would have a blue fit, if he saw me glugging it down like lemonade,’ he says, with a bitter laugh. ‘He’d hit the roof.’
‘Perhaps he wouldn’t mind so much in the circumstances.’
‘In the circumstance of him being dead?’ I flinch a little as he raises his voice, then he seems to realize he’s almost shouted and lowers it again. ‘I
knew
him. I knew – fucking lived – every one of his moods while I was here. You know, he told me he’d bought this to celebrate me being born, but he never opened it for some reason. God knows why, he was obviously waiting for something more momentous than that.’
‘Maybe he just forgot it was in the cellars …’ I say, trying to deflect his rising anger.
He looks in my direction, but I get the impression he doesn’t really care who I am any more. ‘Maybe,’ he says truculently, briefly reminding me of Emma.
‘Or he might have been saving the bottle for you.’
‘Why would I merit something so infinitely more precious to him as
this
?’ He holds up the glass again and drinks it all down. Then he starts laughing, really loudly like I’ve just made some hysterically funny barrack-room joke. I put my glass down, wondering if I dare fetch Robert. I just hope Alexander passes out very soon before he can get alcohol poisoning.
He downs the rest of the glass and while I haven’t been counting, I figure he must have had close on a bottle of whisky already today. How the hell am I going to stop him drinking himself into oblivion? Should I even try after what he’s gone through?
He pats his lap and his eyes are hungry with lust. ‘Why don’t you come and sit here?’
‘I was thinking of going to bed.’
‘Why bother with a bed?’
‘Robert might come in,’ I say keeping my tone light. ‘And I’m sure you don’t want to be caught shagging by the staff.’
‘Personally, I don’t care but I’ll lock the door if it bothers you.’
He gets up, or rather staggers out of his seat. I jump up and steady him with my arm around his back. ‘You’re pissed,’ I say.
‘Pished?’ He tries to mimic my accent. At least I think that’s what he’s trying to do.
‘Do you want to go and sleep?’
‘No. I want to fuck you.’
He may be too drunk to stand, but he’s still incredibly strong and when he half topples, half sits back down in the armchair, I overbalance and fall into his lap. As I get my breath back, our eyes lock. His breath smells like a distillery as he kisses me and his mouth is hard against mine. Drunk he may be, but I can feel how much he wants me. Besides, he can’t drink and have sex with me at the same time so this is for his own good, I try to kid myself.
His hand is on my
He unscrews the cap and sloshes the contents firstinto one glass and then another, leaving a tiny puddle of amber pooling on the silver tray.
My head has started to throb. ‘Not for me, thanks.’
He frowns, his eyes full of hurt. ‘You have to try it. You have to drink it
now
, or when will you? Who knows when “when” will be. Here …’
The tumbler trembles a little as he hands it to me and leans over, his breath reeking of whisky. He’s off his face already but who can blame him?
He holds the glass in front of him, and the crystal and amber liquid glisten like jewels in the firelight. I cradle mine in my hands and he sniffs the glass, takes a sip and leans back against the chair, with a dramatic sigh.
‘Now isn’t that the best fucking thing you’ve ever tasted?’ He looks at me lustfully. ‘Apart from me, of course.’
I take a sip and try to look as if I’m enjoying it for his sake, although by now I’m just wishing he’d stop drinking.
‘I’m no whisky buff but I’ll admit that it’s good.’
‘
Good
?
Is that all you can say about a bottle of whisky that costs a grand?’
‘I don’t care how much it costs,’ I say.
He laughs, and tosses back a third of the measure, which was generous in the first place. ‘My father would have a blue fit, if he saw me glugging it down like lemonade,’ he says, with a bitter laugh. ‘He’d hit the roof.’
‘Perhaps he wouldn’t mind so much in the circumstances.’
‘In the circumstance of him being dead?’ I flinch a little as he raises his voice, then he seems to realize he’s almost shouted and lowers it again. ‘I
knew
him. I knew – fucking lived – every one of his moods while I was here. You know, he told me he’d bought this to celebrate me being born, but he never opened it for some reason. God knows why, he was obviously waiting for something more momentous than that.’
‘Maybe he just forgot it was in the cellars …’ I say, trying to deflect his rising anger.
He looks in my direction, but I get the impression he doesn’t really care who I am any more. ‘Maybe,’ he says truculently, briefly reminding me of Emma.
‘Or he might have been saving the bottle for you.’
‘Why would I merit something so infinitely more precious to him as
this
?’ He holds up the glass again and drinks it all down. Then he starts laughing, really loudly like I’ve just made some hysterically funny barrack-room joke. I put my glass down, wondering if I dare fetch Robert. I just hope Alexander passes out very soon before he can get alcohol poisoning.
He downs the rest of the glass and while I haven’t been counting, I figure he must have had close on a bottle of whisky already today. How the hell am I going to stop him drinking himself into oblivion? Should I even try after what he’s gone through?
He pats his lap and his eyes are hungry with lust. ‘Why don’t you come and sit here?’
‘I was thinking of going to bed.’
‘Why bother with a bed?’
‘Robert might come in,’ I say keeping my tone light. ‘And I’m sure you don’t want to be caught shagging by the staff.’
‘Personally, I don’t care but I’ll lock the door if it bothers you.’
He gets up, or rather staggers out of his seat. I jump up and steady him with my arm around his back. ‘You’re pissed,’ I say.
‘Pished?’ He tries to mimic my accent. At least I think that’s what he’s trying to do.
‘Do you want to go and sleep?’
‘No. I want to fuck you.’
He may be too drunk to stand, but he’s still incredibly strong and when he half topples, half sits back down in the armchair, I overbalance and fall into his lap. As I get my breath back, our eyes lock. His breath smells like a distillery as he kisses me and his mouth is hard against mine. Drunk he may be, but I can feel how much he wants me. Besides, he can’t drink and have sex with me at the same time so this is for his own good, I try to kid myself.
His hand is on my
Similar Books
