The Tenant

Chapter One

Friday evening came around sooner than I'd have liked. When I wasn't packing and unpacking my things, I was fighting an internal battle on whether or not to call the whole thing off. Eventually it became too late to cancel, and I'd reluctantly hauled ass back to Christopher's apartment.

The closer I get to the front door, the more I begin to panic. This was a ludicrous thing to be doing, especially when I was attracted to the guy. If Tobias found out, I'd be at the receiving end of his big-brotherly wrath.

Knocking gently on the door, I hoped he wouldn't answer and that I'd be able to use his ignorance as an excuse to get out this weekend. The tables aren't in my favour, and swift footsteps sound from nearby the second my fingers connect with the knocker.

"Ashleigh," Christopher's haughty voice greets me. "This is a pleasant surprise."

"Surprise? You knew I was coming."

"On the contrary, I knew I'd invited you. I didn't know you'd have the balls to actually show up. Colour me impressed."

Red hot heat crawls up my neck and into my cheeks. Would he have challenged me if he thought I'd really go through with this? My bag is heavy in my hand, taunting me for having worried myself over what was probably an empty invitation.

"I wouldn't have agreed if I had no intention of coming," I say with my best attempt at nonchalance. "Are you going to let me in, or am I going to stand out here all evening?"

Christopher wordlessly guides me into his apartment, the bitter cold nipping at my skin. The far end of the apartment is dominated by a curtainless window. It looks over Grosvenor Square, ablaze with artificial light from streetlights. A steady stream of people filter through the street below, their shoulders slumped with fatigue as they navigate a route thick with commute.

"What is it you do? Besides being a landlady, of course," Christopher asks as I watch the people below us.

"I'm a freelance artist," I say. Truth be told, it's a long f*****g time since I'd finished a piece, or made any money from it. "And yourself?"

"I own a Stock Brokerage firm," he says. My lips part with a poorly timed yawn, eliciting a hearty laugh from him. "Yeah, it's as boring as it sounds."

"I've seen Wolf of Wallstreet. It sure doesn't look boring to me."

"If that's the experience of any true Stockbroker, point me in his direction. I could do with some tips."

Christopher's full lips lift to frame his pearly white teeth. It's the kind of infectious smile that catches like wildfire, and I smile back, my body flooding with warmth. I pull at the collar of my blouse, the room's temperature suddenly skyrocketing as I'm mesmerized by him.

Few people have had this sort of effect on me. I'm itching to get a little closer, my skin crying out for contact with his. I suppose it's where my life has been completely devoid of intimacy since I split with Ben a few months back. Being in the presence of such a man reminds me that I have needs.

"Are you hungry?" Christopher asks, snapping me out of my own head. He warms his fingers over a portable heater that does little to warm the large space. "I was just about to order in."

"I've already eaten, thanks," I say, my stomach growling to call me a liar. If Christopher hears, he ignores it. "If it's alright with you, I'd like to get set up in the guest room. I'm shattered."

"Sure."

There's something a little disconcerting about being in an apartment that I own but don't live in. I know where everything is, including the guest room, but I can't just as well walk around someone's else's home. Instead I allow him to show me to the room; it's an awkward affair.

Christopher is quick to excuse himself, which I'm grateful for. Besides not being one for small talk, I wasn't her to chat. Plus, I don't know how much longer I could have coped with being in the same room as him.

Closing the door behind him does nothing to lessen the ache I feel travelling through the pit of my stomach to my core. Even being in separate rooms isn't enough; I know he's there, just one room away, looking like a f*****g Greek God.

After stripping off, I settle into the bed, the silk sheets smooth against my skin. Still inexplicably turned on just from looking at Christopher, my mind wonders to what it would be like to roll around in these sheets with him. I close my eyes and succumb to the fantasy, the image of his bare torso burned into the backs of my eyelids.

In my own version of reality, he doesn't close the door this time. Instead, he guides me over to the bed, grabbing the bag from my hand and throwing it away to close the space between us. His hands reach up to hold my face and roughly pull it towards his own, our lips connecting with ferocious desire. The sweet taste of him floods my mouth as his tongue breaches it, exacerbating my need for him.

We fall to the bed, our bodies pressed hard against each other as I feel him grow against me. My legs envelope his sides, pulling him further into me as my hands roam the contours of his muscular back. Slowly edging up the hem of his shirt, I lift it over his head, breaking the kiss to get full view of what I'm dealing with. He returns the favour, exposing my black lace bra and flinging my shirt across the room.

Christopher's mouth doesn't return to mine - It heads further south to trail wet kisses over my breasts. Weaving my fingers through his thick, dark hair, I arch my back, welcoming the pleasure that his touch brings me. He seems set on torturing me as he withdraws his mouth, a smirk playing across his lips as his hand rakes down my abdomen. It comes to rest over the top of my thong, hesitating as though seeking permission as I push myself against him.

Without breaking eye contact, his fingers trace a rough pattern over the lace, working me into a frenzy. I try to beg him for more, to relieve me with his fingers or mouth, but the words don't come, replaced instead by breathy sighs. Christopher lowers his head as his fingers breach the waistband of my underwear, his breath batting against my-

"Just grabbing something," Christopher's voice says as he crashes through the door. My eyes open and widen in horror as his gaze falls upon me, taking in my shallow breaths and red face. "Are you okay? You look a little flushed?"

"I'm just a little hot. The duvet weighs a tonne," I say, his words exacerbating my blush. I fumble with the duvet, pushing it aside to insist I'm simply warm.

Christopher's sharp intake of breath brings me to the startling realisation that I'd gotten into bed in only underwear. Looking down to see just how much of myself I've revealed, my stomach drops. Not an inch of me is covered, the duvet almost entirely removed and my lacy underwear on show. I grab the duvet, my frantic movements causing a level of clumsiness that isn't helping me cover myself.

"If we could just forget about this, that would be great," I say in a small voice, the duvet reaching my jawline. I look everywhere but at Christopher's face, afraid of what I'll see there.

"We don't have to talk about it, but there's no way in f*****g hell that I'm going to forget that any time soon," he says hoarsly as he grabs something from the chest of drawers. "See you tomorrow morning."

Muttering a feeble goodnight, I bury my head into the pillow. In the sobriety of the moment, I feel embarrassed at having fantasised about someone who is still very much a stranger to me. I wasn't even an hour into my stay here. What would I be like after 48hrs?

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

It is f*****g freezing. If I'd thought it was cold last night, it had nothing on the chill in the air this morning. I peel the duvet back hesitantly, planning the quickest route to my bag. With military precision, I dart for my bag, retrieving my running gear and changing in a rush. All the while, breath leaves my mouth in frozen clouds.

The clock on the bedside table reads 5am. I've been regularly waking at this time since my Dad passed, my brain only willing to shut down for a few small hours. I cope with the fatigue by running, which some of my friends viewed as counterproductive, but it gives me energy and clears my mind.

I chew on one of the protein bars I brought with me as I locate the boiler. The thing is turned on, or at least it looks like it is, but it's making no noise at all. I bang it frustratedly with my fist, sure that it just needs someone to rough it up a bit and convince it to work.

"Are you trying to wake the entire building?" A low, gravelly voice sounds from behind me. I spin on my heel to see Christopher's face just inches from mine. His eyes are puffy with sleep, still half closed as he watches me with a wry smile. Tendrils of his dark hair cascade down his face; bed hair makes him infinitely sexier. "Already struggling with the cold, huh?"

"No," I say incredulously, and a little too fast. "I just thought I'd see if there was anything I could do to help you. You're a wimp for the cold, you've already made that clear."

"Sure," he laughs. "Well put your fists away, plumber extraordinare. No amount of beating it is going to bring it back to life."

"You should go back to sleep. It's 5am."

"What the-" he exclaims, his eyes opening fully to check the clock on the wall. "Why would anyone be up at this ungodly hour on a Saturday?"

"I'm going for a run."

"Rather you than me," Christopher shrugs, retreating back to his bedroom as he stifles a yawn. "Lock up behind you with the spare key on the fridge. Catch you later."

The bitter January air hits me like a wall as I step outside the building, my nose running in protest and my joints creaking. I start out slow, assessing where around here would be a good place to run. There's always the square, but I'm not a fan of running on grass; no matter how supportive your running shoes, grass gives too much.

This time of morning is like a well kept secret. London is quiet, if only for a little while, the hustle and bustle of the street early having settled. The distant sound of night buses and the last few party goers returning home is all I can hear, along with the quiet chirping of the occasional bird. Although I can't seem to get the pace right, or find a satisfying enough path to run, it's peaceful out here.

Returning to the apartment, I jump in the shower, the steam heating up the bathroom. The water coats me in warmth, creating a river down my back and in the valley between my breasts. As I'm lathering shampoo in my hair, a knock at the door makes me jump as a voice sounds from the other side.

"Can I join you?"