Dirty Rumor: A Bad Boy Billionaire Romance(22)

Should I go down to her door and knock softly until she answers?

No.

She seemed to take my words as a promise, although there was a flash of some expression in her eyes that I couldn’t quite place.

That poor woman outside our building.

Noah hadn’t opened the door for me when we pulled up, and it made perfect sense when I saw her standing outside the building, pacing the sidewalk. Where was the doorman? He wasn’t at his usual post behind the podium. No telling how long the woman had been out there. It wasn’t very cold for the middle of the night in September, but she didn’t seem to care about the temperature, only locating her husband.

It reminded me of seeing my grandmother like that, her mind prematurely deteriorating before she even reached her seventies.

On the way up to the penthouse in the empty elevator, my jaw clenched. I wanted Carolyn with me, not escorting an old woman back to her apartment. I might have insisted on her coming up afterward, as soon as she was done, only….

There’s something about her that splits me in two.

She makes me feel like the same Ace Kingsley who left for Italy two years ago—cocky, self-assured, and totally unafraid to go after and take the things I wanted. But she also taps into the soft-hearted part of me that came out of hiding in Europe, with Elisa.

What would Elisa think about all this?

For the first time since arriving back in New York City, I think of her without a twisted shock of pain. It’s still there, but dull, farther off, soothed by the fact that Carolyn is nearby. If I really wanted to, I could go down to her apartment right now and see her, assuming she’s there, and not out doing something on what looks from my penthouse windows like a gorgeous Saturday morning.

Nothing. She wouldn’t think anything because she’s dead.

My throat tightens.

It’s a mistake, I know it is, but Carolyn is drawing me to her in a way I can’t ignore. The way she put off sex—sex with me—to help that woman get back to her apartment safely….

That’s the kind of woman I want to be with.

Even if it means disaster.

My coffee has gone cold and I’m staring out at the New York City skyline from the windows surrounding the breakfast nook in the penthouse when there’s a knock at the door.

Who the hell…?

When I open the door, a shiver of sheer pleasure runs down my spine.

It’s Carolyn, looking absolutely f*cking gorgeous in a deep red wrap dress, her hair piled on top of her head, cheeks pink.

“Hi.”

“Can I come in?”

I step back to let her into the apartment, the smile already spreading across my face.

“How’s Mrs….” The name of the woman completely escapes me.

“Hensley? She’s doing all right. I called her son this morning, and he’s coming over to visit her.” Carolyn’s forehead crinkles with concern. “Poor lady. I’ve never seen her like that before.”

“It’s too bad.”

Carolyn looks up at me as I close and lock the door behind us. “I didn’t come here to talk about Mrs. Hensley.”

“Oh, really?” I feign the slightest hint of innocence, but I step toward her all the same, and she bites her lip.

“No.”

“Then what did—”

Before I can get the words out of my mouth, she’s crashing into me, her lips hard against mine. It seems like the most natural thing in the entire goddamn world when she jumps up and wraps her legs around me, her arms sliding around my neck, her firm ass balanced in my hands.

“I wanted to talk to you,” she says between kisses, “but—”

“That can wait,” I growl before pressing my lips to the smooth skin of her neck. Without thinking about it, I’ve walked us to the bedroom, but I let her kiss me for another full minute at least, my cock standing out hard against the fabric of my jeans, before I lay her on her back on the bed and prop myself up over her on my elbows.

Her eyes are dark and glittering, and I take the time to explore her mouth with my tongue before I lean down and untie the belt of the wrap dress with my teeth, tugging it until the knot comes loose and then finishing the job with my hands.

Underneath the dress she’s wearing a black bra and panty set that takes my f*cking breath away. It has her breasts cupped to perfection, and my hands ache with the need to be where that scrap of lacy fabric is, so I sit her upright, kissing her harder, faster, while I undo the bra and slide the straps down her arms before tossing it to the floor next to the bed.

The panties are next.

I spread her out on the comforter, head tipped back, eyes closed, while I hook my fingers into the waistband of the panties and tug them down. She points her toes delicately when I reach her feet, and I grab one in one hand and plant a kiss on one of her slim ankles.

Perfection.

Then I edge her legs apart, anticipating the damp sweetness waiting for me.

“You wanted to talk about something?”

I take the opportunity to kiss her ankle again, then a little higher. Her breath hitches in her chest.

She’s panting. “I thought you said….”

I kiss another inch higher, a little hotter, a little harder, then another inch.

“I’ll tell you whatever it is you want to know,” I say, kissing another tantalizing inch closer to her *. She tilts her hips and spreads her legs apart a little more, her ankle trembling in my grip. “Right after I f*ck you.”