More Than This Read online

  Table of Contents

  Books by Alexa Milne

  Title Page

  Legal Page

  Book Description

  Dedication

  Trademark Acknowledgements

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Read more from Alexa Milne

  More exciting books!

  About the Author

  Pride Publishing books by Alexa Milne

  Single Books

  Sporting Chance

  Stay

  Not Every Time

  Comfort Zone

  A Bell Rings

  My Highland Cowboy

  Two for the Road

  The Call of Home

  Choosing Home

  Returning Home

  Staying Home

  Anthologies

  Right Here, Right Now: The Matchmaker

  MORE THAN THIS

  ALEXA MILNE

  More Than This

  ISBN # 978-1-83943-018-3

  ©Copyright Alexa Milne 2020

  Cover Art by Claire Siemaszkiewicz ©Copyright March 2020

  Interior text design by Claire Siemaszkiewicz

  Pride Publishing

  This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places is purely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of the publisher, Pride Publishing.

  Applications should be addressed in the first instance, in writing, to Pride Publishing. Unauthorised or restricted acts in relation to this publication may result in civil proceedings and/or criminal prosecution.

  The author and illustrator have asserted their respective rights under the Copyright Designs and Patents Acts 1988 (as amended) to be identified as the author of this book and illustrator of the artwork.

  Published in 2020 by Pride Publishing, United Kingdom.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the authors’ rights. Purchase only authorised copies.

  Pride Publishing is an imprint of Totally Entwined Group Limited.

  If you purchased this book without a cover you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the publisher and neither the author nor the publisher has received any payment for this “stripped book”.

  Sometimes life gives you more than this.

  Two years after whistle-blowing on irregularities in the company she worked for in the US, businesswoman Veronica Smith runs into Cassandra Forster, the woman with whom she had an intense affair back in New York.

  Cass pushed all Ronnie’s buttons as well as her boundaries, and the relationship was becoming something more before Ronnie left without an explanation. When they pick up where they left off, Ronnie finds she still wants more…but does Cass feel the same?

  Cass wants an explanation. Being with Ronnie had begun to mean more than great sex, but then Ronnie left her high and dry. Cass’ feelings haven’t changed, but can she trust Ronnie enough not to hurt her again? Can she trust herself to let someone into her life?

  Over a weekend and a wedding, the two women finally talk and discover they have more in common than the ability to meet each other’s desires. But can they take this second chance life has given them to have more than this?

  Dedication

  A huge thanks to everyone who encouraged me to try something different and to Farah, Cath and my editor, Rebecca, who read this through and helped make my words better.

  Trademark Acknowledgements

  The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:

  All of my Life: Richard Carpenter

  Facebook: Facebook, Inc.

  i360 Tower: The West Pier Trust

  Kindle: Amazon.com, Inc.

  Twitter: Twitter, Inc.

  Y.M.C.A.: Jacques Morali, Victor Willis, Henri Belolo

  Chapter One

  Veronica

  It had been two years since I’d seen her. Cassandra Forster, there in the flesh, as perfectly turned out as always. Every so often during the meeting, she glanced at me, but gave no indication we’d known each other in the past. Today, she wore a deep purple fitted dress with buttons up the front, a dress that hugged every curve. Shit, those curves. I couldn’t see a line of any sort impacting the smoothness of the fit. The highest of black stiletto heels graced her feet. Her legs were encased, as always, in black. She hated tights, so they were probably hold-ups with those lace panels at the top stretched around her thighs. Wet welled between my legs at the thought of her pale flesh. Her long dark hair, lying straight and loose down her back, shone.

  I shut my notebook. “And that’s everything, I think, unless anyone has anything else to add?” I glanced at everyone, hoping no one would say anything. No one did.

  “Thank you all for coming. I’m sure the merger will be a success. We’ll set up teams for each section within the next week.” People stood, scraping their chairs back to leave the room, chatting as they exited.

  This was my first time in charge of a merger meeting since my promotion to partner in the company. I needed this to go well. The last person I’d expected to appear was Cass, especially in the role of personal assistant to the CEO of one of the companies we represented in the negotiations. Melanie Kneale was renowned for her impatience with subordinates, and I couldn’t see Cass putting up with her style of management for long…unless…

  I pushed the thought away and shuffled my papers, waiting for the room to clear, even though I was desperate to get back to my office, away from her, away from our past. Or at least, I told myself I was. Before I’d had to leave abruptly, I’d begun to think that maybe we could have more than what we’d had, satisfying though it had been, but I had no idea whether she’d felt the same.

  And now, it would be so easy to get lost in her again. I breathed a heavy sigh of relief, watching her leave. I grabbed a mug of black coffee and, once back in my office, closed the door then sat in my chair staring out of the window. After a few minutes, I heard a noise behind me. I swiveled. Somehow, I knew it would be her. She closed the door behind her and stood waiting.

  I’m the boss. I’m in charge here. I needed to believe those words. “Hello, Cassandra. Has Ms. Kneale let you off her leash?” Do I sound confident? I need to sound confident. I clutched at the arms of my chair and gazed at her, hoping maintaining eye contact showed strength, but I was drawn to her as always.

  Cass shook out her hair. “I told her I’d be back after lunch, so I have an hour. A whole sixty minutes. It’s good to see you, Ronnie.”

  No one else called me Ronnie. To everyone else, I was Veronica. I sat up in my executive chair, chin held high and back straight. “I’m surprised to see you here and working for Melanie. She has a reputation for chewing up assistants and spitting them out.”

  “She’d certainly never swallow. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen her eat anything but those godawful protein shakes full of kale. I’ve never understood a woman who doesn’t like her food. Not like you. Food is too sensual not to experience it all.”

  Automatically, I pulled in my stomach.

  Cassandra crossed the room. Her heels sent her hips swinging. Without any hesitation, she came aroun
d to my side of the desk, pushed back my chair and stood in front of me. Inches separated us.

  Say something. Tell her this isn’t appropriate. Tell her to go. The voice screamed in my head. I, of course, ignored it. But I want you to stay. I’ve missed you. I’m sorry I left without saying goodbye. I had reasons.

  She picked up my phone. “Hello, Matthew. Could you hold all Ms. Smith’s calls for the next hour? Thank you.” She replaced the receiver. “So, we have sixty minutes. What do you think we should we do with them?”

  “This isn’t appropriate, Cass.” My voice barely managed a whisper. I swallowed, trying to wet my arid mouth then, without thinking, licked my lips. “I have work to do.” Please don’t go.

  “Since when has appropriate mattered to me?” She ran a perfectly manicured nail down my cheek, and I had to fight the urge to lean into her touch. “You’re looking well, Ronnie, but you’ve changed your hair. And you’re doing well, judging by this office.”

  I nodded.

  “Power is such an aphrodisiac, don’t you think?” She took hold of a strand of my hair and twirled it around her finger. So close.

  “Is that why you’re working for Melanie Kneale?” I asked, my voice shaking.

  She stroked my cheek. “Do I detect a smidgeon of jealousy?”

  I waited for her to ask me where I’d been for the last two years, and why I’d left New York so suddenly, but instead she sat on my desk and crossed her long legs.

  “The position suits me for the moment. And as for Melanie, I wouldn’t say no to giving her a little discipline, but she’s far too fond of pegging her secretary over her desk for my taste.”

  Her hands went to the top of her dress. She undid each button slowly, revealing a stunning black lace bra which pushed her ample breasts together to make a wonderful cleavage I longed to get lost in. Goosepimples popped up on my arms. I should tell her to stop. I should tell her to leave. I didn’t. Who am I trying to fool? She stopped at the waist and, without warning, uncrossed her legs and pulled the arms of my chair forward until my face was level with the small pink bow in the center of the lace. My pulse quickened. She knew me too well. Her fingers, with their immaculately painted nails, undid a hidden hook, letting her breasts spring free.

  She licked her finger and used it to lazily circle one nipple. Oh God. “You always had a thing about my boobs, didn’t you, and I had a thing about you liking them.” She lifted one breast until the dark pink nipple rubbed my lips.

  “Lick it,” she said.

  I shook my head. The rest of me shook with desire. We’d played this game so many times before and both knew how it always ended.

  “Lick it. You know you want to. I can see it in your eyes. You want to lick and suck like you always did.”

  It was true. Losing myself in her made the world go away better than any drug. I let my tongue slip between my lips and touched, ever so slightly. The nub and areole hardened, and I was back on the hook, being pulled in.

  “Go on, you know that’s not enough. Lose yourself. Do what you’re told.”

  I did. I couldn’t help myself. Leaving her had killed me. What must she have thought? How mad she must be. How would she punish me? It had been two years, and there had been no one since. When you’ve tasted perfection… I wrapped my lips around the glorious nub. She curved her hand around the back of my head and held me there. It was like coming home. I wouldn’t have cared about anyone else entering the room. The sky could have fallen, or the world ended. My mouth was made for this.

  “Enough.” Her usual command. She placed her hands either side of my head, tilting it upward. “Now the other one.” I moved sideways.

  “Oh yes. You haven’t lost any of your skill, have you, Ronnie? Such a gorgeous mouth and talented tongue.” She kept me there for minutes, alternating between each nipple while I licked and whimpered into the wetness I’d created so greedily. It had been too long.

  “Enough.” Immediately, I stopped. The dance moved on, as carefully choreographed as ever.

  “Undo the rest of the buttons.”

  I did as I was told, one by one, until I reached the last. She wore matching black lace panties and, as I’d suspected, hold-ups, the kind with the lacy tops rather than the purely functional. I desperately wanted to kiss the pale flesh above the elastic lace. She stood and shimmied out of her briefs. She never fully shaved like many others, but chose to trim. She loathed wax. I wanted nothing more than to sink my face between those white thighs and she knew it. I could practically taste her on my tongue. My pussy ached and I was so wet my knickers would be damp all day.

  She reached between her legs with one finger, rubbed herself then held her hand up to my mouth. I could smell her. I needed to taste her so badly. She slipped the finger into my mouth and I devoured the salty flavor with its subtle hint of mango from the shower gel she always used.

  “You want more, don’t you?” she said. I couldn’t speak. I nodded. “Then you shall have more.”

  She edged back farther on the desk and opened her legs. Her body glistened. “Move closer,” she said. She pulled open her lips to reveal her clit.

  “Oh God,” I whispered, staring up into those dark eyes. “Can I?” Would she refuse? Would that be my punishment for leaving her? I couldn’t bear the thought of not seeing her again. Please don’t say no.

  She stroked my hair. “Oh yes, my pet. Make me come like only you can.”

  Tension leached out of me. I wheeled closer. Sitting like this, I could concentrate. I glided my tongue over her clit.

  “That’s it, my pet. Take it. Take me.”

  I buried my face in wetness. I loved the feel of it on my skin, the taste and smell. I took her clit between my lips and sucked hard. Now, the tables were turned a little. I had the power. This was how it worked between us. I did what she told me. Anything she told me. She liked the power and I liked the danger. Did we have a chance for more?

  The door wasn’t locked. Anyone could come in, but I didn’t care. Every memory of every time came flooding back along with the need—the need to lose myself. I slipped one finger inside her. I loved to feel her contractions as she came.

  “Oh yes. No one has ever done this as well as you.” She wrapped her legs around me. I could hardly breathe. I pushed harder, licked harder, moaned into her flesh, waiting for the moment when she pulled away before she came. I knew how she moved. When she did, I followed her, not letting up my attention to her body through the convulsions as she came with more wetness covering my face. I loved the feeling of being surrounded by her. I kept going until she put a hand on my hair then raised my head to meet her gaze. She lifted my chin and leaned down to kiss me, tasting herself on my lips.

  “Thank you.” Those simple words made all the difference. She always thanked me. Those words gave me hope. Had she forgiven me?

  I said nothing, letting my breathing return to normal while I licked my lips.

  She stood, fastened her bra, put on her briefs, then buttoned her dress and brushed herself down. She checked and reapplied her lipstick and ran her fingers through her hair. I sat in silence, knowing there wouldn’t be anything for me to relieve the ache between my legs. At least not from her, not now, not here. Not in this dance.

  “It’s been good to meet again,” she said as if we’d merely had a coffee together. “I missed you, my pet.” She dug into her bag and pulled out a card. “Call me.” It wasn’t a suggestion. Could we be more than this?

  “I don’t know,” I whispered. But I did. I’d call. Probably.

  Chapter Two

  Cassandra

  “Thank goodness.” There was no one there, but I said the words to myself after I fell onto the sofa and removed my heels. With London prices, the space around me was what might be known as compact and bijou. Still, I made the most of the four rooms at my disposal.

  I allowed myself fifteen minutes. “Can’t stay here all night.” I changed out of my clothes into cozy pajamas. Clothes were my one indulgence and, eve
n then, most of them came from charity shops. If a person knew where to go, there were bargains to be found. Still, executive personal assistant to the CEO of a company paid well enough for me to manage to indulge myself occasionally, and I’d built up a fair investment portfolio over my years in the US. This had remained largely untouched for the rainy day that might come. Life had taught me to expect sudden downpours.

  Since I’d returned to the UK from the States, I hadn’t indulged much in other activities—just the odd one-off evening, as much for my own pleasure as theirs. I kidded myself I was on the look-out, once again, for something or someone, who had needs I could cater for on a more regular basis. If I could only get past my memories of her.

  I thought of the dress hanging on my wardrobe door and the red-soled heels I intended to wear with it for the function tomorrow. One of the benefits of working for someone who preferred horses to people was I often got to represent her. In the past, on these occasions, I’d find someone to amuse myself, who might lead to more—the richer and more powerful, the better. I’d never allowed any of them to matter to me except one, and much to my disappointment after our reunion last week, she hadn’t called. So much for hope. Maybe I wasn’t the expert in judging people I’d always thought I was.

  Veronica Smith—the one who’d got away. She hadn’t been handed her money on a plate or achieved her position through nepotism. She wasn’t one of these people who never laughed, fearing a wrinkle, or ate, fearing an ounce of fat might form. Not Ronnie. We’d met in Manhattan, at a management conference for women. I’d been employed to take the minutes for meetings, while she was one of the speakers, proudly explaining how she, as a woman, had worked her way up in her organization. I’d been hooked from that first moment, though I’d never have revealed my infatuation.