Page 35 of Hit For Six (Balls and Banter #1)

‘Near the wonders of Pulteney Bridge and the Weir,’ Monty supplied, to which Lola nodded her head with a grateful smile, hoping that this would be the last of the inquisition and they wouldn’t request a rundown of her family tree.

Normally, such intervention would peeve her but who could blame her for letting Monty do all the talking in such an unexpectedly dire situation.

‘Gosh. A grand part of the city.’

Frederick arced a brow and Lola had visions of him planting some kind of tracking device in her bag when she wasn’t looking, just to check that she wasn’t lying.

Well, once upon a time in the Regency period, it had been grand compared to other places in Bath.

Nowadays most of the flats on her street had been snapped up by rich landlords and divided into overpriced student digs. But this was by the by.

‘It’s quite–’ Do not say that word again. Come on, Lola! You work for a company that prides itself on its kaleidoscopic verses. ‘Happy and wonderful,’ she heard herself reply. Oh, dear God. But at least she hadn’t come out with a fart joke from the wisecrack card range.

Frederick broke out in another weak smile.

‘As you wish. We shall leave you to it. I hope you haven’t left too much office work for the weekend once you’ve finished your entertaining,’ he turned pointedly to Monty, adding a strange wink and an awkward back pat of his own.

‘Your father doesn’t mean to mix business with pleasure,’ Helena attempted to diffuse the situation.

‘And it has been a pleasure.’ She moved in to kiss Lola on the cheek.

Unfortunately, fresh back from Frankfurt where she’d greeted numerous customers from countries all over the world with a variety of acknowledgement styles, Lola misinterpreted the air kiss and bumped cheeks with Monty’s mother instead.

Then she did exactly the same to his father.

Major cringe! Her life was officially a series of neverending tailspins.

She said a polite goodbye as she and Monty forged ahead to an evening of less cooking, more coupling, and wondered if her wave would be inspected too, and found lacking for not living up to the late Queen’s classy twist of the wrist.

‘Jeez, that was cringe,’ Monty half-whispered, voicing Lola’s precise thoughts once they’d put some distance between themselves and his parents. ‘I’m so sorry about my folks.’

‘Not at all. I thought they were perfectly nice .’

And snobby and judgemental.

‘They can’t help themselves,’ he replied. ‘They’ve always been that way. Let it go over the top of your head. That’s what I do. Come on… we’ve got lost time to make up for.’

Lola was too euphoric to give a toss about their reservations after making the bold decision to break down her self-imposed relationship barriers.

And it appeared that neither of Monty’s parents had recognised her from the jumbotron or television footage, which was a huge relief because Frederick had her going there for a while when he was cleaning his glasses.

She definitely ought to quiz Monty about his father’s frosty work requests, though.

Talk about a thorny, one-sided conversation.

But not now. Lola couldn’t wait to see where Helena and Frederick’s son lived and then she couldn’t wait to devour him.

‘I hope you’re ready, gorgeous. I intend to do some very bad things to you when I get you all to myself,’ he whispered in her ear as they quickened their steps.

See, they were on the same page. No more caring about what others thought. Monty was right. Lola gave their opinions way too much consideration.

‘I guess that will make up for the lack of dessert,’ she quipped, before coquettishly squeezing his thoroughly juicy arse.

Lola turned to check his dreamy assets out for real now that she’d given herself carte blanche.

She was one lucky lady. Monty might not have gotten his training in lately but he was the fittest guy she’d stepped out with.

The last thing she expected to see in her periphery was Helena and Frederick rooted to the spot.

They hadn’t yet moved from where their paths had crossed.

And from what little Lola had been able to take in of their expressions, they were cast in stony dismay beneath that street lamp.

Well, fuck it. Yes, it was all things inappropriate to grope their son in public, but she’d been quick, there was nobody else in the vicinity, and they were supposed to be walking in the opposite direction to the car park.

Minding their own business and letting Monty get on with his.

‘Nearly as peachy as yours.’ Monty somehow scooped a shrieking Lola up in his arms, despite the weight of his bag, carrying her in an over the threshold position, as if they’d reached his elusive abode already.

Helena and Frederick were still gawking, hoping against hope to crack the unfathomable mystery.

Lola pretended she couldn’t see them. ‘Breaking news: I might just have a tub of H?agen-Dazs in the freezer…’

***

‘Ta dah!’ Monty announced ten minutes later. ‘Home sweet home.’

Lola was on her feet now. She covered her open mouth as he outstretched his arm to present The Royal Crescent.

‘Oh, my God! Why didn’t you say? So much for loathing Monopoly. Monty, you live in one of the Bath edition’s properties!’

Lola could count the number of times she’d ventured into these parts on one hand. It was too much for a working class girl like her. She’d always felt uncomfortable and out of place here, hence only accompanying friends who visited from afar as if she was a snap happy tourist herself.

‘Trust me. It looks more impressive than it is.’

‘Oh, no. I’m not buying that!’

‘I’m in the cheap seats, I promise. We’re over there.’

He gestured to one of the doors sandwiched towards the middle part of the curve of the iconic Bath architecture and pulled Lola along.

She felt as if she was in a period drama.

But she wouldn’t spoil this experience with the unworthy thoughts that Orlando had tried to plant in her head.

His home had felt other-wordly and overwhelming too, but the difference was, Monty lived independently from his parents, he was his own person.

And he’d passed a shit load of Lola’s tests thus far without even knowing it.

‘Shh! Elderly but very sweet neighbour.’

He put a finger to his lips once they got inside, his consideration only making Lola’s heart bloom further, as he pointed at the downstairs apartment’s front door. Ah, so he was at the top. The view from his place must be cracking.

They tiptoed up the creaky stairs and Lola’s heart raced when Monty unlocked the entrance to his flat and flicked on some atmospheric lighting so she could take in the idyllic surroundings.

Her lover finally dumped his bulky bag and Lola cast her eyes over a stylish living-room, its main feature a sumptuous toffee-coloured sofa with cream scatter cushions in a variety of sizes.

Monty got bonus points for those! There was a flat screen television directly opposite it, as there would be in most man caves– although this man had a green light to watch more sport than most– but Monty’s was a regular size and not at all showy-offy.

Next came the antique ‘hand-me-downs’ that he’d hinted at.

Some of these were slightly more ostentatious and looked as if they’d come straight out of Versailles.

A Baroque-style throne of a chair was tucked into the corner, as if Monty was too humble to sit on it, and an olde-worlde dresser supported a glut of vintage cricket books and accessories, which were displayed adroitly.

Then came another juxtaposition, the walls were festooned with modern T20 prints, as well as various photos of somebody Lola was getting to know rather intimately, in sporting action.

Monty drew the curtains, and Lola’s pulse hammered as he walked back to her with an alluring gait, as if the beat of her heart was drawing him closer and closer; a tune that just the two of them could hear.

‘Now, where were we?’ his sexy voice enquired and the sacred space between Lola’s thighs began to throb.

Monty’s eyelids grew hooded as he closed the distance between them and claimed her mouth.

This time their kissing was fiery from the get-go.

There was nobody and nothing to stop them and there was so much catching up to do.

All those wasted days and weeks when they could have had this on tap.

If only Lola hadn’t been so stubborn. Then again, the build-up to these fireworks was worth the wait.

She had never felt so turned on or so bold about what she wanted.

Monty pressed a muscular knee between her damp thighs, completely in tune with her desire, and Lola thought she might climax already as he lifted her hips with his firm hands to increase the pressure, pinning her against the wall.

She was all too willing. Their kissing became breathless now as they continued to ravish one another, until she could take it no more, desperate to touch his skin.

She slid her fingers up the sides of his cricket shirt, relishing in the feel of his taut abdomen and the lingering hint of a moreish shower gel, mixing with his eau de manliness.

‘I’ve never had a woman take my actual kit off me.’ He broke off to inform her, his eyes twinkling. ‘I must admit… it’s a bit of a fantasy of mine.’

Lola cocked a brow as they got lost in one another’s eyes, dazed, heads spinning. Anyone else and she wouldn’t believe them but there really was a purity to Monty. He said it as it was.

‘I think I’m happy to oblige,’ she said as he plunged his lips on her neck and began kissing his way down to her cleavage.

‘Are we going garment for garment here?’ his words vibrated into her chest.