I turned to face him. Tension swirled between us like the snow outside. With his bowtie slightly loose and his hair mussed from the wind, he looked less rigid, less restrained. Maybe the wild walk through the weather had us both amped up.
“I’ll be right back,” he said and disappeared up a set of stairs I had somehow missed when I first walked in.
How many floors was this place?
I shook my head and took the opportunity to look around. The apartment was actually very Dane. It was clearly the epitome of luxury. The space was immaculate.
I drifted into the massive kitchen that was all bright-white quartz countertops and black cupboards with stainless steel appliances. There was exactly one splash of color in the monochromatic kitchen.
The pink mug.
It was the only dish in sight. The one piece of evidence that suggested anyone actually used the kitchen. It was sitting by the sink like it had been used that morning, rinsed and left to dry.
Like he used it every morning.
Maybe I was crazy. Maybe the adrenaline from crashing the gala and walking through a blizzard had broken something in my brain. Maybe this was all a dream and when I woke up tomorrow I’d be back in my apartment with Abby and none of this would have happened.
But if it was a dream, then my actions didn’t matter, right?
And if it wasn’t a dream, even better.
Dane came down the stairs. He was holding sweatpants and a T-shirt that would probably be huge on me, but comfortable.
“These should fit well enough for sleeping,” he said, holding them out. “The guest rooms are down that hall, second and third doors on the right. Both have their own bathrooms, fresh towels, everything you should need.”
“It’s not fake,” I blurted out.
He blinked. “Excuse me.”
“I have feelings for you.”
The words came out in a rush. He froze, like someone had zapped him with a stun gun.
“I know I shouldn’t,” I continued, the words tumbling out now that I’d started. “I know you’re my boss and this is complicated and there are a hundred reasons this can’t work. I know I’ve been telling myself it’s just the fake dating thing. But it’s not. It’s real. My feelings are real, and I don’t know what to do about that.”
He closed the distance between us and grabbed me so forcefully I stumbled against him. His mouth slammed against mine.
His kiss was filled with desire that seemed to echo my own. It was as if all those unspoken feelings had broken free, like a dam breaking and releasing a torrent of emotions.
His hands roamed over my body, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. He deftly unzipped my dress and let it fall to the floor in a pool around my feet. Our lips never parted as he led me to the couch, pushing me down onto it without breaking contact. He stripped himself of his tuxedo jacket and shirt while I fumbled with his belt buckle, finally managing to pull it open.
By the time we were both naked, our hands were everywhere. I couldn’t touch him enough. I had been dying to have my hands on the man for way too long.
Dane’s fingers found my breasts, teasing my nipples into hard peaks that ached with pleasure under his touch. He leaned down, taking one nipple into his mouth and suckling gently.
My body writhed beneath him as he slowly trailed kisses down my abdomen, finally reaching the apex of my thighs. He looked up at me for a moment before diving in, his tongue expertly parting my folds and finding my clit. The sensation sent shivers through every muscle in my body as he continued to swirl and flick at the sensitive bud.
The orgasm sped through me like a runaway train. I was helpless to stop it, no matter how embarrassed I was by how quickly he was getting me there. When he slipped two fingers inside me, curling them skillfully to hit just the right spot, I was a goner. My back arched off the couch as waves of pure ecstasy washed over me. I heard my cry of pleasure and had a brief thought about being quiet, but no way. There was no quieting anything.
I pulled him up to me and pressed my lips to his once more, tasting myself on him. I reached between us, wrapping my hand around his shaft and groaning at the girth in my hand.
“Upstairs,” he murmured.
I let him help me up. My legs were unsteady after the ridiculous orgasm he had just given me. And maybe trekking through the frozen tundra in heels.
Dane nearly dragged me upstairs. I had no time to look around his bedroom. He gently pushed until I fell back onto his bed. That was my only real chance to get a glimpse of the man in nothing but his birthday suit.
Holy hell. Those glorious Roman statues of old gods had nothing on him.
