Truly wonderful.
We got into the back seat of my car.
I eyed her hand on the leather seat beside me. Instead of thinking about every action before I made it, I moved my hand to hers and held it.
The corner of her mouth rose in a smile.
Touching a woman’s hand wasn’t difficult. Fucking them until they came twice wasn’t hard either. I knew how to handle a woman. I knew how to handle several. But handling a woman who actually made my heart squeeze was a completely different story. Her touch meant so much more. “Would you like to come over?”
She turned my way in the car, the shadows casting different designs across her face. A smile was in her eyes, and slowly, it formed on her lips too. “I’d love to, Vincent. But there’s no rush. We have plenty of time.”
I didn’t know what we would do once we got there, but I didn’t want to say goodnight when I’d just gotten her back. She’d never seen my place, and I’d never seen hers. I’d asked her to as many public places as I could. I was running out of excuses to spend time with her. We could only eat so much. I turned to my driver. “Back to my place.” I hit the button and raised the center divider.
We moved through the streets as we headed to my penthouse a few blocks away. Thankfully, my housecleaners had just tidied up the place. I’d left my gas fireplace on, and the TV was still playing the game because I’d recorded it. When I had dates over, I usually offered them a glass of wine before we went to bed.
But they usually wanted to skip the wine.
I didn’t know what I would do once I got Scarlet there.
I knew what I wanted to do.
But would that be the right thing to do?
Our hands remained locked together as my driver took us across town. Her legs poked out underneath her long jacket, and my eyes couldn’t help but wander over her body. She had a beautiful figure. It was one of the first things I’d noticed.
After what seemed like a lifetime, the driver pulled up to my building.
Hand in hand, we walked inside and took the elevator to my floor. There were two properties on each floor, but I bought both just so I could have my privacy. No one could get access to this floor without the code, so it was impossible for anyone to get up there besides the fire marshal. With all the weirdos in the world, I didn’t want them to follow me here.
I unlocked the door and we walked inside.
The second we were in my personal space, I felt the tension slowly sink down my spine. I’d never been more aware of the fact that I was alone with a woman. Scarlet and I were alone in that museum, but it wasn’t the same.
Now there were four walls surrounding us—no interruptions.
“Can I take your coat?” I moved behind her and peeled the thick jacket off her shoulders.
“Sure.” She stepped forward and took in the view of my penthouse. I had a large living room that was big enough for a dinner party for at least fifty people. A grand piano sat in the corner even though I never played. It was once owned by one of the greatest musicians of all time. It was a trophy as well as a piece of art. My couches were dark gray, and the rest of my furniture was decorated with dark cherry wood, black statues, and a comfortable rug. When I designed this property, I told the designer it would forever be a gentleman’s space. I didn’t go for a look that would fit into a Pottery Barn catalog. It was still sleek, elegant, and full of masculinity. Her gaze grazed over the scene in front of her, examining my large TV on the wall and the stone fireplace. “Your place is beautiful.”
“Thank you. I can give you a tour later, if you’d like.”
“How big is this place?”
“Twelve thousand square feet.”
Her eyes snapped open, and then she released a restrained laugh. “Oh…Jesus.” She laughed again, and this time, she covered her mouth. Her eyes still contained her laughter, but she slowly combated it. “Sorry…I wasn’t prepared for that information.”
It was a lot of space for one person. I didn’t go into the other places in the house often. My personal gym was the only room I visited on a regular basis. The only reason why I kept the penthouse was because of the location. The views were spectacular, and it was close to work. “I’ve been here for about five years now.” I walked to the bar against the wall, where I had everything I needed to entertain anyone—no matter their preference. “Would you like a drink?”
“Sure. I’ll have whatever you’re having.”
I looked over my shoulder. “I’m having a scotch—neat.”
She walked past my couch and grazed her hand over the material along the back. Her eyes took in everything, probably with the perception of someone who designed the layout of an entire magazine. “I like scotch.”
“Really?” I turned back and made the drinks.
“Women can’t like scotch, Vincent?” she asked playfully.
I joined her behind the couch and handed her the glass. “Of course not. I’ve only seen you drink wine.”
“Because you always order a bottle for the table,” she said. “But I do enjoy wine. I enjoy everything, actually.” She brought the glass to her lips and took a small drink before she pressed her lips together. “That’s smooth.”
“That’s the only way I take it.” I took a drink with my eyes trained on hers. I concentrated my gaze on her prominent cheekbones, the pretty angles of her face. Her lips were plump and soft. My experience touching them was limited, but I’d never forget how they felt.
Once my attraction began to rise, I thought of
