The Private Club 2 by J. S. Cooper, Helen Cooper Read Free Book Online Page A

almost jumped a mile when the door opened.
    “Hello, Meg.” He looked at me with closed eyes and a short smile.
    “Greyson.”
    “Came to beg me for some more?”
    “Some more what?” I asked dumbly, staring into his vivid blue eyes.
    “You know what!” He looked me over and ushered me into the room. “Want to come in?”
    “I was going to my room.” I shook my head and mumbled. “Sorry to disturb you.”
    “Your room is nowhere near here. How’d you wind up down this corridor ?”
    “I thought I had someone playing Edith Piaf.”
    “You listen to French music?” He looked at me in surprise.
    “Not really. But I did growing up. My uncle used to play her records a lot.”
    “That makes me feel old.”
    “You’re not old.”
    “I’m too old for you.”
    “Is that something you’ve been thinking about?” I asked hopefully, allowing my emotions to get caught up again. Maybe this was something special and out of the ordinary for him as well.
    “Not really.”
    “Oh.” Disappointment filled me and once again I felt like a bit of a fool. That emotion was becoming too familiar to me , and I hoped that it wasn’t going to continue.
    “Come in for a bit and have a drink.”
    “I thought we weren’t allowed to have alcohol.”
    “Most of the girls aren’t.” He nodded. “But you’re a special case.”
    “I am?”
    “You know that already.”
    “Why , because we...” My voice cut off. I couldn’t bring myself to say “fucked,” and I knew that what we had done wouldn’t be considered making love.
    “Come in and have a seat.” He grabbed my hand and pulled me into the room. I looked around eagerly and was surprised to find myself in a room that resembled a comfortable living room.
    “Do you live here?”
    “Sometimes.” He smiled and pointed me towards the couch. “It’s not my only home, but I spend many nights here.”
    “It’s nice.” I sat down on the couch. “This is really comfortable.”
    “Isn’t it? He laughed and sat down next to me. “Can I get you a drink?”
    “No, thanks.” I shook my head and watched as he picked up a glass off of the table and took a sip.
    “Want some?” He handed me his glass and I shook my head. “It will warm you up, I know how easily you can shiver.”
    “I’m quite warm as it is , thank you.”
    “Are you always this combative?”
    “I’m not combative.” And then I laughed. “Well, not normally.”
    “Have a sip of whiskey.” He tried to hand me his glass again , and I sighed.
    “This is peer pressure, you know.” I made a face as I took the glass and sniffed it. “I don’t really like whiskey.”
    “That’s not surprising. It’s more of a man’s drink.” He smiled. “Now drink.”
    “Are you trying to get me drunk, Mr. Twining?”
    “I don’t think that I need to.” He looked into my eyes then and gave me a small smile. I shivered at the truth of his words. He was right, of course. He did not need to get me drunk in order to have his way with me. Shoot, at this point all he needed to do was touch me and I would become putty in his hands.
    “So you like Edith?” I questioned him, changing the subject.
    “I do.” He nodded and leaned back into the couch. “My mother was French.”
    “Oh , cool.” I thought for a moment. “Did she pass away?”
    “Yes, when I was young.”
    “I’m sorry.”
    “Don’t be. It’s not your fault.” He shrugged.
    “Still, it must have been hard to lose your mother when you were young.”
    “Is that code for ‘that’s a possible reason why you’re fucked up, Greyson’?”
    “No, no.” I shook my head. “Of course not.”
    “I was going to say that you’re probably right.” His eyes glittered at me and he moved closer to me on the couch and took a large sip of his whiskey. “My life was never the same after my mother died.”
    “Why not?”
    “Because my father was never the same.” He stared at the Persian rug underneath his coffee table. “My father always