Only You - Lord of the Manor book 1

Chapter 33

Care? I want him to love me, not care. I walk across the bedroom to the bathroom, shutting the door behind me. He cares about me, like a brother or something? I feel my heart slowly cracking.

I go to the toilet and wash my hands before placing myself in front of the huge mirror that spans the back of the vanity unit. I sigh wearily. What am I going to do? He cares. If caring means poking up with this, then he can devote his care elsewhere.

I wash my face and make a grab for Harry's toothbrush, only to find my own in the holder with it. Huh? I cake it in paste on a frown and set about brushing my teeth, glancing in the mirror to the shower and spotting my shampoo and conditioner on the shelf, along with my razor and body wash. Has he moved me in? I carry on brushing my teeth, opening the door back into the bedroom, finding Harry sprawled on his front with his face buried in the pillow. I walk past him into the walk-in-wardrobe, nearly choking on my toothpaste when I see a selection of my clothes hanging there.

He has moved me in! That's a bit presumptuous, isn't it? Did I not get a say? I might very well love him, but I've known him for a few weeks. Moving in? What does this mean? Does he want me here to take care of me? Well, if so, he can sod right off. Control me, more like.

'Problem?'

I swing around, my toothbrush hanging from my mouth, to find Harry filling the doorway of the wardrobe, looking slightly apprehensive. It's a look that I've not seen on him before. My eyes drift down his torso, delighting in the flex of his muscles as he braces himself on the door frame with both hands. But I quickly re-focus my attention away from his distracting chest, suddenly remembering why I'm in the wardrobe. I garble a load of inaudible words around my toothpaste and brush.

'I'm sorry, run that by me again.' His lips twitch at the corners as I yank my brush from my mouth.

He bloody well knows what's wrong with me. I garble again, my words a little more comprehensible with the absence of my brush, but the paste is still hindering proper speech.

He rolls his eyes and picks me up, taking me to the bathroom. 'Spit.' he commands as he places me on my feet.

I rid my mouth of all the paste and turn to face my unreasonable control freak. 'What's all this?' I wave my arm around in the general direction of everything.

He clamps his lips together to suppress a smile and leans forward, licking off the remnants of the paste from around my mouth, his hot tongue sweeping across my bottom lip slowly. 'There. What's what?' He flicks his tongue up to my temple, blowing a long, hot breath in my ear. I tense when he reaches down to cup my dick, sending chills of pleasure flying through me.

'No!' I push him away from me. 'You're not manipulating me with your delicious Godliness!'

He grins that roguish grin. 'You think I'm a God?'

I huff, turning back to the mirror. His head is expanding at a rate so fast, I might be forced to jump out the bathroom window before I'm squashed against a wall.

He curves his arm around my waist and pulls me against his front. Leaning down and resting his chin on my shoulder, he studies me in the reflection of the mirror. Pushing his erection between my thighs, he circles his hips, sending my hands flying down to catch the side of the vanity unit.

'I don't mind being your God.' he whispers on a husk.

'Why is my stuff here?' I ask his reflection, willing my body to behave and not get swallowed up by all his lovely Godliness.

'I collected it from Beth's earlier. I thought you could stay here for a few days.'

'Do I get a say?'