Chapter 23
The elevator spits me out onto our floor and I walk hastily to our suite. City light floods the glass, bright and humming, and I stare at the skyline.
I peel off my shoes and carry them in my hand as I pad toward the bedroom. The rug is plush, luxurious against bare feet. I sink onto the bench at the end of the bed. My reflection hovers in the long black window: hair barely tamed, makeup softening at the edges, my posture poor.
I’m stowing my shoes in the closet when I hear the door open and close.
James.
I feel him before I see him. There’s a shift in the air, a gravitational pull. I hang in the closet a moment longer, pretending to straighten the few hangers of my conference wardrobe.
“Hi.” His voice floats in, mild but edged.
I turn, and he’s there in the bedroom doorway. He’s shed the suit jacket, and unbuttoned his shirt just enough to read casual, but the posture is all business: arms crossed, eyes locked on me.
“Hi,” I say, and offer a half-hearted smile.
He doesn’t move. “You okay?”
I leave the closet, crossing the room to stand in front of the window, taking in the city lights with my arms wrapped around myself.
“Yeah. Sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude, leaving like that.”
He approaches me from behind, pulling me back against him and nestles his head between my neck and shoulder.
“You weren’t rude,” he says. “I’d be willing to bet no one else realized you were bothered.”
“But you did.”
“I did. So why were you bothered?” he asks, turning me to face him and pressing me against the window.
“I don’t know. I’m probably just tired. It’s been a long day,” I say, resting my head against his chest.
He hooks his finger under my chin and lifts my head to look at him. “Avery. Why did those questions upset you?”
“I haven’t been asked questions like that since my personal life became a secret I have to keep. I don’t knowhowto answer those questions. I don’t even know what this is or what I’m doing or any of it,” I say, flailing my arms in the little space between us.
“What is there to know?” James asks, voice low and firm. “And I,” he groans. “I don’t know what this is either.” He pauses, and for a moment I wonder if that’s the end of the thought, but he keeps going. “But what I do know is there’s nobody I’d rather be here with than you.”
“What is there to know? Real rich coming from the guy who’s never been in a situation he couldn’t control.”
I expect James to bristle. Instead, he softens.
“I like control,” he admits. “But even I can’t control this. Trust me, I’ve tried.” He brushes a strand of hair behind my ear. “Even now. I know we shouldn’t be here together. We should be staying in separate rooms.” He presses a kiss to my cheek. “I shouldn’t know what you look like when you shower.” He kisses my shoulder. “Shouldn’t know how good your pussy feels.” He licks up my neck. “Shouldn’t want to see this dress on the floor.” He reaches behind me and unzips my dress. “But I’m going to,” he says, sliding my dress off my shoulders and letting it fall to the floor around my feet. “And I’m going to fuck you against this window so the entire city can see that you’re mine.”
I hurriedly untuck his shirt as he undoes the rest of his buttons before discarding the shirt to the side. He kisses me as I fumble with his belt and zipper, before yanking his pants down along with his briefs.
He steps out of them, still kissing me, and pulls my lace panties down my legs as I unhook my bra and slide it off my arms.
He hoists me up against the window, his hardness pressed against my center, sending a shiver down my spine. He positions himself at my entrance, teasingly running his tip up and down along my wetness.
“James,” I whimper, a plea for him to stop teasing.
With a thrust, he enters me, filling me completely. We both let out a moan at the sensation.
Slowly pulling out and then slamming back in, James establishes a rhythm that sends waves of pleasure through both our bodies. My nails dig into his shoulders as I cling to him for dear life.
He reaches one hand between us to tease my clit while continuing to drive into me mercilessly.
