Harrison’s door opened seconds later, revealing the driver standing under an umbrella.
The sleek silver tower of Harrison’s condo stood behind him.
“Allow me to escort you to your door, Mr. Cross,” he said.
I started to slide off his lap, but he gripped my hips.
“Stay with me,” he growled in my ear. “For the rest of the week.”
“I have a lot of work to finish… I didn’t get much done this past weekend.”
“I’ll cancel whatever was due.” He gripped me tighter. “Stay here.”
“You don’t believe in off days, remember?”
“I didn’t before now.”
He gently lifted me up, helping me out of the car. Then he stepped out and pulled me against his chest.
As if he didn’t care who was watching, he caressed my hips and kissed me harder than he had all weekend—fucking mymouth with his tongue, making my knees weaker with every taste.
“Say yes to staying, Andrea,” he whispered.
I nodded, and he squeezed my ass.
“Say it…”
“Yes,” I barely managed.
“Good.”
The driver held the umbrella over us, but Harrison stepped out from beneath it, pulling me with him and into the freezing rain.
“Welcome home, Mr. Cross.” The bellman tipped his hat before opening the door for us.
We stepped onto the elevator, and the moment the doors shut, he pulled me closer and I wrapped my arms around his neck.
“Wait,” I breathed as his mouth met mine.
“On what?”
“What do you want me to tell them about the delays?”
“I could’ve sworn I said I don’t want to talk about work.”
“You did, but I don’t believe you.”
“How hurtful.” He smirked, pressing his hands against my hips. “I’ll handle all those questions.”
“But—”
“Trust me.”
His kiss obliterated the last of my protests, and we barely made it off the elevator before he had me pressed against his door.
THIRTY-TWO
HARRISON
