Seven Nights of Sin (Penthouse Affair #2)

Chapter 19 Dominic

“You know . . . you’re inexperienced. With a woman who’s been around the block, it’s more okay to play a little fast and loose, because she knows what she likes and doesn’t like, and she won’t be afraid to call a time-out.”

“But I did tell you to stop,” she fires back, crossing her arms over her chest. “Doesn’t that prove I’m capable of holding my own?”

I would laugh at her trademark resolve if I weren’t rapidly approaching exasperation. “I’m trying to apologize for not treating you better.”

“I know. And I appreciate that. I just need to know you see me as an equal. I don’t want you handling me with kid gloves. I agreed to this”—she waves a hand as she searches for a word—“arrangement of my own free will.”

“Even a casual partner still deserves to be treated right.”

She nods slowly, like she’s confused over my choice in words.

I tip my head toward the celling and draw a deep breath before meeting her eyes again. “So, would you like to go to dinner with me?”

She stares back at me for a moment before softening. “Yes. That sounds really nice.” Her expression turns the tiniest bit mischievous. “But it’s still not a date, right?”

I keep a poker face. “Right.”

“Just wanted to make sure. I’ll get dressed,” she says, then heads into the bathroom to get ready.

I should feel better having gotten that apology out of the way, but somehow I don’t. I only feel more confused.

• • • This content provided by N(o)velDrama].[Org.

Overlooking the Thames, we share platters of native Cornish oysters on the half shell and roasted vegetables and a variety of desserts.

Although we’re talking shop, analyzing the various offers I’ve received over the past two days, it doesn’t feel at all like work. It’s easy and fun, and highlights all the aspects of this job that get my blood pumping.

Presley is so sharp, and we tune so easily into each other’s wavelengths that our collaborating feels effortless. It’s nice. Relaxing, even. With a business partner like her, synergy isn’t just a marketing buzzword, but something real and invigorating.

I’ll start bringing her to meetings soon, I decide. I was a fool to ever think of restricting her to my bed— she’s too valuable an asset to be kept away from the negotiation table.

The cocktails and conversation loosen my tongue until I’m rambling about my most unlikely dreams. “Someday we’ll be worldwide.” I smile, taking the last sip of my wine. “An Aspen property in every country—or at least one on every continent, I’ll settle for that.”

Presley smiles at me over her glass of prosecco. “Even Antarctica?”

I realize I misspoke, but I go with the flow and joke, “Sure, why the hell not? An ice palace with attached ski resort.”

“And penguin-watching tours,” she says with a giggle.

It feels good to see her laugh, to laugh together with her. When was the last time I felt so good? Probably right before I found that fucking Genesis stuff in her bag. The worst of that is behind us now . .

. but still, I can’t deny it was a useful wake-up call, pulling us apart before we got too entangled. Too invested in a connection that could never last.

I sigh, the reality of my life bringing me back down to earth. “On the other hand, I really need to start trimming back my hours. I shouldn’t miss all of Emilia and Lacey’s childhood.” That was meant to be another joke, but it came out downright dismal.

“You can do both, right? If you find good people to delegate to,” Presley says.

I rub my chin. “Maybe. Easier said than done, but maybe.”

“Your kids are so cute . . . I want to spend more time with them, and I’m not even their parent.” She gets a weird look on her face. “Sorry, I don’t mean to overstep my bounds or tell you what you should do or anything.”

“I didn’t take it that way. What about you? How’s your family?” She rarely mentions her father—one of the many things we have in common—but she lights up beautifully when the topic lands on her brother.

“Michael is doing really well at school. He loves his classes, and . . .” She giggles. “He keeps talking about this guy. Every time we talk, it’s Elijah said this, Elijah did that, or oh my gosh, Elijah’s so cool.”

I chuckle. “Are they dating?”

“If Michael ever works up the courage to ask him out, we just might see.” Toying with her last bite of dessert, she asks way too casually, “Speaking of relationships . . . do you think you’ll ever be looking for more?”

She’s challenging me. Like she always does. “I don’t see how I could fit any more obligations into my already limited schedule.”

As soon as the words are out, I wonder why I avoided the question instead of just saying, No, I’m not looking for some big romantic love affair. For some reason, I’m reluctant to shut her down cold. Even though I really should, because there’s no way anything beyond sex can happen between us.

It just wouldn’t be sustainable. She’s so young and has so much ahead of her. I’m jaded and overworked, and am barely getting by with the two ladies who need more of my time than I have to give at the moment. It would be foolish of me to pretend we could make it work.

“We could always ask the cards for solutions.” She taps her purse.

“We don’t need to go to that extreme. I can see the future just fine. Us, twenty minutes from now, getting naked back in our hotel room . . .”

Presley meets my eyes and nods, but there’s something conflicted in her expression.

• • •

As soon as our door clicks shut behind us, I sweep her up, kissing her fiercely. My fingers find the zipper at the nape of her neck. I pull it down and let her elegant evening dress pool on the floor, revealing a satiny black bra with matching panties. I growl appreciatively and push my hips forward so she can feel what she does to me.

“You’re stunning,” I murmur.

Her breath hitches. “How do you want me?” she whispers against my mouth.

Well, if she’s in the mood to challenge me, I know a way to challenge her right back—something that will also ensure we avoid a repeat of last night.

“Tell me what you want.”

She blinks up at me. “I thought you liked being in control, boss man.”

“I’m changing the rules. You’re in charge tonight. Think you can handle that?”

Her brow furrows for a moment as she thinks. Then she starts opening my shirt, her delicate fingers working button by button. She stands on tiptoe to slide it back over my shoulders until I can shrug it off. Next comes my belt, which she sets neatly on a nearby chair before unzipping my pants. She’s so methodical, I’m amused watching her.

When I’m bare, she nudges me. “Lie back on the bed, Mr. Aspen.”

I do as she says, enjoying the view as she strips off her bra and panties while never breaking eye contact. No words are spoken as she straddles me, rolling her hips to spread her slickness over my erection—and damn, she’s already wet and ready. Well, that makes two of us. My cock aches for her to get on with it and ride me already.

But a niggling thought at the back of my mind tells me that it won’t be that cut and dried.