The Pleasures of Summer Read online

  Evie Hunter

  THE PLEASURES OF SUMMER

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgements

  PENGUIN BOOKS

  THE PLEASURES OF SUMMER

  ‘Evie Hunter’ is actually two authors who met at a creative writing workshop in 2010 and discovered a shared love of erotica. Since then, while they have both written fiction in other genres, they have also written a number of BDSM-themed novellas together. The Pleasures of Summer is their second collaboration on a novel, following the publication of their first, The Pleasures of Winter, in late 2012.

  Praise for The Pleasures of Winter

  ‘Move over Fifty … this gives more pleasure … a thrashing good read’ Irish Independent

  ‘Danger, heat, obsession and unexplored desires come together to form a combustive and sizzling tale, not soon forgotten … Did I mention the chemistry that they share?! You will definitely not need a blanket to keep yourself warm as you read this one! … [It’s] a knockout story that will grip readers and have them flying through the pages at a heart-stopping rate. There were times while I was reading that I found myself so emotionally engrossed within the story and the characters that I found my heart skipping and tears welling up’ Romancing the Book (full review at www.romancing-the-book.com)

  ‘The Pleasures of Winter is perfect for fans of erotic romance that is heavy on the romance but still contains a little kink. If you’re looking for something hot and steamy with intense chemistry then you can’t go wrong with this one’ Feeling Fictional (full review at www.feelingfictional.com)

  ‘The Pleasures of Winter is one of those rare books that has stolen my heart, my mind and my soul … I loved it that much. I was hooked from page one right up until the last page. I got so caught up within the story that I was actually heartbroken when the book finished because I didn’t want it to end … a flawless, exciting and downright steamy read that will stay with you long after your finish’ Totally Bookalicious (full review at www.totally-bookalicious.blogspot.co.uk)

  ‘Some very steamy BDSM scenes … The Pleasures of Winter is explosive, action-packed, and a very interesting original story’ Tome Tender (full review at www.tometender.blogspot.fr)

  ‘Where Fifty Shades lacked in quality, Pleasures prevailed. This book was written in a smart and sassy tone that reminded me a bit of the chick-lit genre – which I love! The female characters were strong women who worked hard, valued their relationships and weren’t just waiting around for love to come and find them’ A Bookish Way of Life (full review at www.abookishwayoflife.blogspot.fr)

  ‘There is an awful lot of erotica on the shelves these days and they all seem to look the same, but I have to say I enjoyed The Pleasures of Winter immensely. [It is] well-written and compelling and [I] would recommend it to fans of erotica’ Novelicious (full review at www.novelicious.com)

  ‘Is this book a long awaited reprieve for those that love Fifty Shades of Grey? I’m going to say, YES. And this is the first time I’m going to say it. This book has all the flavors of Fifty, yet this book stands on its own. It’s not a recreation with different characters in slightly different roles. This book is just different’ My Book Boyfriend (full review at www.mybookboyfriend.blogspot.fr)

  ‘All I can say is, Holy yowza, Batman! Yes, this book falls firmly into the ‘What to read after Fifty Shades of Grey’ category, but in my opinion – and pay attention to me here, people – this book blows Fifty Shades out of the water. That’s right, I said it … I unabashedly adored this book’ This Bookish Endeavor (full review at www.ravingbookaddict.blogspot.ie)

  Quotes from Goodreads.com user reviews:

  ‘Sexcapades delivered with a bit o’ pain by a beautiful Irishman. Yum! Everyone should roll around a bit in The Pleasures of Winter. Wickedly Delicious!’

  ‘What can I say – it took my breath away … It was a truly intimate love story … I laughed, I cried, I got frustrated with Abbie because of the way he was treating her … but as the story went on I got to understand Jack a bit more and realized why he was like this. [He] truly loved Abbie … It was an awesome read and very well written.’

  ‘Awesome book! If you are a fan of Fifty Shades of Grey or Bared to You, you must read this book!’

  ‘The book was deliciously titillating! I loved the characters and the story. I also love the sex scenes, they were seriously steamy … I do not believe I will ever be able to look at a feather again without feeling dirty!’

  ‘Wow, did this book take me by surprise. I’ve been looking for something similar to Fifty Shades and Bared to You for a while and this book is definitely up there with them.’

  ‘Reading the description of The Pleasures Of Winter one may just assume it’s yet another Fifty Shades/Bared To You bandwagon book, but it is so much more. I honestly found myself enjoying this book way more.’

  To our families

  Prologue

  December

  Summer O’Sullivan’s heart pounded when she checked her rear view mirror again. The blue van was still following her. Usually she wouldn’t notice anything less exotic than a Bugatti Veyron, but it was after 4 a.m. and she’d had two unpleasant encounters already that night. Why couldn’t the paparazzi leave her alone?

  She accelerated away from the van, only to be stopped fifty yards down the street at the pedestrian crossing. Summer tapped her fingers on the steering wheel as the remnants of a hen party staggered across the road singing ‘Merry Christmas Everyone’. The bride carried a traffic cone. How could they take so long?

  She glanced at the mirror; the blue van was still on her tail. The creep wasn’t acting like a pap, but he was driving close enough to send a trickle of sweat down her spine. Summer fumbled in her bag for her mobile phone. Bugger. It was dead. She must have forgotten to charge it.

  As the lights changed, she slammed her foot down on the accelerator. Her BMW shot forwards with a screech and she raced away. She didn’t care if she got a ticket. In fact, she would be delighted to be stopped by a policeman anytime now.

  London’s finest weren’t inclined to oblige her.

  Praying that she had lost him, Summer took the turn for Hampstead. She glanced in her mirror, relieved when there was no sign of the van. Exhaling a breath she hadn’t realized she had been holding, she eased back on the accelerator.

  Summer switched on the radio, hoping the late-night jazz would calm her. Maybe she was overreacting, but since the break-up with Adam, her life had turned crazy.

  It’s over. Don’t think about him now.

  Lights flashed behind her, taking her by surprise, and a van overtook her at speed, causing her to swerve on the icy road. Bloody lunatic.

 
She relaxed when she saw the turn off. Almost home. She rounded the final bend with relief.

  ‘What the –’ Headlights blinded her and for a split second she couldn’t see a thing. She blinked. There was a vehicle blocking the road. Instinctively, she jammed on the brakes and the rear wheels lost traction. Her nails dug into the leather-covered steering wheel as she turned into the skid, struggling to regain control, but it was too late. Her car hit the kerb and she jerked forwards. The seatbelt whipped her back against the seat like a rag doll, knocking the breath from her lungs. The airbag engaged before she had time to scream.

  Blackness. Fuzzy vision. Everything hurt and there was blood. Hers, she realized with a hysterical laugh. The sound of wheels spinning uselessly grated on the silent winter road. The radio continued to play a Melody Gardot song about a man with a heart as black as night.

  A light flashed through the windscreen. Summer scrunched her eyes shut and then forced them open.

  ‘Hold on. I’ll soon have you out.’ The voice was muffled.

  ‘Oh, thank god,’ she gasped.

  It rattled, but the driver’s door wouldn’t open. The man walked around to the passenger door and tugged hard, cursing when he realized that it was jammed.

  He knocked on the window. ‘Open it.’

  ‘Ca-a-an’t,’ she managed. ‘I think my arm is …’

  ‘Open the fucking door.’ He banged on the roof of the car.

  Why was he shouting at her? Summer squinted, trying to focus on the road. There was no patrol car, no ambulance, just a dark van. A sharp blow on the window made her jump. The glass in the passenger window shattered, the cracks spreading out like a spider’s web. What the hell was he doing? Was he crazy? Was this a robbery? A car-jack?

  ‘Please don’t,’ she whimpered. A trickle of moisture blinded her. She wiped it away, sickened when she realized that it was blood.

  The man struck the window again and it collapsed into the passenger seat in a shattering rush. She shrieked as he reached through the broken window and tugged at the handle. He ignored the Chanel tote on the passenger seat. It wasn’t a robbery. He wanted her.

  ‘You fucking little bitch.’ He grabbed her sleeve, wrenching her arm as he pulled it, and a bright arc of pain shot through her. Oh god. Oh god. Her heart thudded until she thought it was going to explode. Somehow, she dragged her arm free and grabbing a handful of the broken glass on the passenger seat, she flung it in his face.

  ‘Whore,’ he spat, recoiling. ‘You’ll fucking pay for that.’

  She needed a weapon. Shoes. She had the needle-spiked Louboutins she had worn at the party. Her fingertips brushed the soft suede, but she couldn’t get a grip. Again, and this time she caught something. Her shoulder screamed in protest as she dragged the shoe free. When he reached through the window again she slammed the heel into his hand as hard as she could. He roared with pain.

  Summer pressed her hand on the car horn and held it down. Somebody hear me. Somebody please hear me.

  After that, everything went black.

  1

  Six months later

  ‘Summer!’

  Summer opened one eye. The other eye was glued together with the remains of her false eyelashes. She groaned into her pillow. Lifting the duvet, she took a quick inventory. She was still wearing the slinky pink dress from the night before but there was a stain on the front that looked remarkably like …

  ‘Summer!’

  The roar came again, louder this time.

  ‘Ugh.’ If her father found her in this state he would go crazy.

  ‘Summer!’ The roaring was getting closer now.

  She tumbled out of bed and hurried to the bathroom.

  Her blonde hair extensions were clumped together and the remains of last night’s mascara stared accusingly at her from the mirror. She looked like a hung-over raccoon. Somewhere in the deepest recesses of her brain stirred a vague recollection of dancing on a table singing ‘The Fields of Athenry’.

  ‘You are never drinking cocktails again,’ she told her reflection.

  She stripped off her dress, scrubbed her face clean, rinsed her mouth with mouthwash, pulled on a bathrobe and wound her hair into a turban.

  ‘Summer.’ This time the roar was accompanied by pounding on the bathroom door. Her dad had finally lost it. She opened the door reluctantly.

  Tim O’Sullivan’s face was scarlet. ‘What the hell did you do to my car?’

  ‘Me? Nothing.’

  ‘Don’t lie to me. If you took my car …’

  Summer’s own face flushed. ‘I wasn’t anywhere near your cars. Natasha gave me a lift yesterday. You can ask her if you like.’ And he probably would. Her dad would believe anyone before he believed her.

  His face crumpled. ‘God, I was hoping it was you.’

  She stared, shocked.

  ‘If it wasn’t then some feckers broke in and did it.’

  ‘Calm down, Dad. Remember what the doctor said –’

  Her father turned away, already heading for the door. ‘Feck the doctor,’ he muttered under his breath.

  Shoving her feet into a pair of mules, Summer followed him down the stairs, through the open door and around to the side of the house where he garaged his collection of vintage cars. She winced. It wasn’t just any car that was damaged. It was that car. Sitting on the gravel driveway was her father’s pride and joy, the one that she had been driving yesterday. The silver Aston Martin DB5 – no wonder he was ranting.

  She had listened to the story a zillion times. How Tim O’Sullivan, son of a poor fishing family, dragged himself up from nothing to build an international airline, yadda yadda yadda. This particular car was the symbol of his meteoric rise to success. It was one of only six built for a James Bond movie. Now it was splashed with red paint and there were deep grooves in the passenger door.

  ‘What the hell am I paying security for?’

  Her father was shaking. The last few months had been terrible for him. The plane crash, the hate mail, the endless newspaper coverage, and now this. She patted his arm. ‘It will all blow over. The inquiry found it was an accident.’

  He clenched his hand into a fist. ‘Do you think any of them care? If it’s not the media following me around like a pack of hyenas, it’s some crackpot who thinks I’m responsible for every plane that drops out of the sky. You’ll be better off back home until things settle.’

  He couldn’t be serious. Boarding school had been bad enough. Then, when she was doing her MBA, he had insisted that she share a flat with her strait-laced cousin Sinead. But Castletownbloodyberehaven with her grandmother watching her like a hawk?

  ‘Sorry, Dad. There’s no way I’m going there.’

  ‘You listen to me, young lady. It’s Castletownberehaven or you’re getting a bodyguard. After last year, you can’t possibly think it’s safe for you to be on your own.’

  Calling her young lady was a sure sign that he had made his mind up and he would never change it. Summer had other plans while she was in London, but they weren’t the kind she was going to share with her father. She had to calm him down. ‘Please don’t send me away. You need me here. Please Dad.’

  He gave her a measuring look. ‘Sometimes you remind me of your mother, lord rest her. I’m not going to risk losing you as well.’

  He pulled his phone out of his pocket and tapped the speed dial. ‘Brian, I need you to organize security for Summer. Yes. Until I get back from Atlanta.’ He eyed the vandalized car and shook his head. ‘And tell the garage to send someone over ASAP.’

  Summer forced a smile onto her face. This was a temporary setback. She could handle a bodyguard. Her dad would be away for most of the month and when she got rid of the bodyguard, she could carry out her plans.

  In the breakfast room, they helped themselves to food from the covered dishes on the sideboard. There were sausages, bacon, eggs cooked four ways, fried pancakes, mushroom, beans, black pudding and toast. She would have to speak to the new chef and tell him
that he wasn’t feeding an army. No wonder her dad was overweight.

  How was she supposed to run the household and keep her dad healthy when people kept leaving all the time? She had no idea why there was such a high turnover of staff.

  Summer helped herself to yoghurt and fruit and sprinkled it with granola. Her stomach lurched. She was still queasy from the night before. Pouring herself a cup of coffee, she picked up the morning paper. Her own face looked back at her from the third page. Damn. There was a photo of her holding Maya’s hair as she puked out the door of the limo. How the hell did the tabloids get these stories? She would have sworn no one else had seen that nasty little incident. Summer read on: ‘Irish eyes were certainly smiling last night when socialite Summer O’Sullivan hooked up with hunky Australian half-back Mike Chester.’

  ‘Oh bugger,’ she muttered.

  ‘What’s that, Summer?’

  ‘Nothing, Dad.’ She forced a smile and dropped the paper under the table. Her dad had enough to worry about without having to read about her latest exploits.

  She took out her Xperia to check her messages.

  Her father opened his laptop and they read through their emails in silence, broken only by the occasional expletive from her father when something annoyed him. He never stopped working. She couldn’t remember when they had last gone out for dinner together or done anything that wasn’t connected with business. It must have been when her mother was alive.

  ‘So when do you fly to the States?’ she asked to distract him from his latest rant about share prices.

  ‘Next Tuesday at noon. But don’t worry. Brian said they’re sending someone round at eleven.’ He said that his assistant was a godsend, efficient and organized. Summer hated him.

  ‘Great.’ Summer poured another cup of coffee. ‘I can’t wait.’ To get rid of him.

  At precisely 10.55 a.m. a nondescript grey Nissan made its way sedately up the driveway. Summer let the curtain slide back into place. She couldn’t see the driver clearly but he looked middle-aged. Perfect for what she had in mind. Grabbing her towel, she hurried downstairs to the pool.