The Two Week Arrangement (Penthouse Affair #1)(27)

A small crease forms between her eyebrows, but she’s staring at my lips again, giving me that look she gave me in my office on Monday. The look I wasn’t sure I was ever going to see again—hooded eyes, wet lips, and a faint blush. And it’s pulling me in. Big fucking time.

It doesn’t matter that I’m the boss and she’s my employee. Because right now? I’ve never been more aware of the fact that I’m a man, and she’s a woman.

I shrug off my coat and place it around her shoulders, thinking how tiny she looks wearing my large coat on her slight frame.

“You’re cold. Please wear it.” I step into her, as close as I can without pinning her against the car, then softly brush her jawline with my knuckles, my gaze fixed on her pink lips.

Looking deeply into her eyes, I ask a silent question. May I?

She nods, and my heart stops.

I press a kiss to her mouth, intending for it to be slow, chaste. But Presley’s lips open against mine, and I’m shot back in time to our kiss in my office, reliving that first touch of her tongue.

But this kiss is even more desperate and wild. She lets out a soft moan, lifting on her toes to get closer, her fingers curling into my jacket. I couldn’t pull away from her if I wanted to. And I sure as hell don’t want to.

My hands skim down her waist as she rakes her teeth gently against my lower lip.

God, I want her.

When we break apart, I struggle to find my voice.

“Please come?”

“Okay,” she agrees, breathlessly.





Chapter Twelve


Presley



Sliding into the buttery-soft leather seat the next morning, I huff out a sigh. It took some convincing, but in the end, Dominic won, and I agreed to accompany him to Roger’s waterfront home on the condition that it was only for one night.

Dominic agreed easily with my terms, and so here we are, his shiny black limo parked at the curb in front of my building. He chats with the chauffeur as my overnight bag is placed in the trunk, and then he slides in beside me.

As the driver pulls back into traffic, Dominic turns to me, his expression serious. “Are you okay?”

I nod and stuff my phone into my purse. “I’m fine.”

He’s a puzzle I’m still trying to solve. A CEO and billionaire who sometimes acts every inch the dominating powerhouse the media makes him out to be. And then other times, my favorite times, he’s softer somehow, transforming into a twenty-something single guy you’d meet at the corner bar for a beer and a slice of pizza. Part of the fun on these little excursions, I’m coming to realize, is that I never quite know which version of him I’m going to get.

The breathless feeling in my chest grows with each of his worried glances. What will happen later? What do I want to happen later?

We head toward the highway, and Dominic presses a button to raise the privacy screen, separating us from the driver.

He runs one hand over the back of his neck, looking a little uncertain. “I’ve been thinking . . . we have some work to do. If Roger’s going to believe we’re a couple, we need to get our stories straight. Make it look like we know each other well.”

“Makes sense,” I reply, nodding. “Well, we’ve got two hours to kill right now. Let’s talk.”

I smooth my dark-washed jeans over my thighs and feel a little thrill at the way his gaze flicks down for a second. I’m dressed casually in jeans, a bright red sweater, and tall boots. I have a black cocktail dress packed into my overnight bag since I’m not sure what to expect later or how formal things will be.

“Perfect. You go first.” His mouth twitches in a small smirk. “And nothing professional, I already know all that.”

I think for a minute, acutely aware of his focus on me. I don’t leave much room in my life for hobbies, friends, or anything else besides work. Unearthing ugly family history seems too intimate for this stage. And, oh God, the idea of admitting my embarrassing lack of a love life . . . Yeah, no, that won’t be happening.

“Well,” I say slowly, “I live with my best friend, Bianca. I like to read.” I hesitate. “And you’re probably going to laugh at this, but my grandma taught me to read tarot cards, and it’s still a hobby of mine.”

“I won’t laugh. But I admit, I didn’t expect that from someone so left-brained.” He leans back, setting his ankle on his opposite knee. “Can you predict my future?”

Although his light tone is amused, it’s not derisive, and I’m relieved that he isn’t judging my little hobby.

“That’s not quite how it works. It’s more like a decision-making tool—at least, that’s how I use it. To guide you toward a path when you’re unsure.”

He considers this. “Interesting. So you already know the answer deep down, and the cards are just a tool you use to dig for it.”

“Exactly.” Feeling bolder now, I say, “Okay, it’s your turn now. Tell me something special about yourself. Something secret.” I’m excited to be learning more about the Dominic that people in the office don’t get to see.

He pauses, his chin resting on his hand while he considers my question. Then he says, “I was a super nerd until I hit puberty.”

I laugh in delight. “Oh, really? Tell me more.” I scoot a little closer, eager to hear more.