The Stopover (The Miles High Club, #1)(58)

I clench again, and his lip curls in excitement. “That’s it, baby.” His eyes close in ecstasy. “Milk me, and show me who it belongs to.”

Something snaps inside me when I hear him say that his cock belongs to me. I bring my legs up and wrap them around his waist and begin to clench in a rhythm.

He hisses in approval.

“So . . . good,” I whisper as we stare at each other. “So . . . fucking good.”

To the outside world it would look like we are just cuddling as we lie perfectly still, but inside, every wall I’ve ever built up is being demolished, clench by clench.

He begins to moan, and it sounds too good—I can’t hold it. I clench as hard as I can, and we both cry out as an orgasm tears between us.

And then he kisses me, and it’s sweet and tender, and I feel emotion run between us.

I hold him close, cheek to cheek, as I hang on to him for dear life.

“You’re so fucking perfect, Emily,” he whispers.

I run my fingers through his stubble. “It’s you who’s perfect.” I kiss him softly. “You should stop it immediately.”

“Why is that?” He smiles.

“I think I may be addicted.”

He chuckles and rolls onto his back and pulls me over him. “No, I want you addicted.”

I laugh. “Why would you want me addicted?”

“Because I am, and I don’t want to be in this alone.” His eyes search mine, and I feel my heart free-fall from my chest.

“You’re not in this alone, Jay.”

“Good.” He kisses my temple as he seems to relax.

We lie together in a tangled mess, and he dozes back to sleep. My mind begins to go into overdrive.

I have feelings for him—I know I do. In just two days, I’ve developed feelings for him. How is this going to end?

I’m totally screwed.

An hour later, I wake to the smell of bacon cooking, and I smile up at the ceiling. I don’t know what this alternate universe is, but I like it. I throw on a robe I found hanging in the bathroom and make my way out into the living area. I turn the corner and see a glass wall with a view over New York and Central Park. Over-the-top wealth and luxury hit me in the face, and I stop still on the spot. I can’t get my head around the fact that this is all his.

This money is his money.

My eyes roam over the beautiful floors, gorgeous rugs and furnishings, then to the fireplace and up to the huge gilded mirror above it. I’ve never even seen an apartment like this in a magazine, let alone been in one. I feel so out of place.

“Hey, there you are.” He smiles as he comes around the corner and sees me.

I give him a lopsided smile.

He frowns as he sees my face. “What’s wrong?”

I twist my hands in front of me nervously. “Your apartment freaks me out.”

“Why?”

I shrug, embarrassed by my slummy standards. “It’s so fancy. I feel like I don’t belong here.”

He takes me in his arms. “What does that mean?”

I shrug.

“Is that why you didn’t want to come here last weekend?”

I nod. “Yes.”

“Explain to me why?”

“When I’m here, I’m reminded of how much we don’t have in common.”

“And that bothers you?”

I nod shyly.

He frowns, as if trying to understand. “You’re the first woman who’s ever had a problem with my money.”

“It’s a turnoff to me.”

“Turnoff?” he splutters.

“I would prefer you to be poor, actually.” I smile, knowing how ridiculous that sounds.

He chuckles. “Well, that makes one of us.” He leads me into the kitchen, and I see a breakfast of bacon and eggs on sourdough bread with a side of avocado.

“Yum.” I smile as I take a seat.

“I’ll have you know that I’m an excellent breakfast chef.” He sits down beside me, looking very pleased with himself.

My smile fades, and I pick up my knife and fork. That’s because he cooks so many breakfasts.

Stop it.

I take my first mouthful. I wonder how many women have sat here just like this and eaten his cooking after having amazing sex all night.

For Christ’s sake, stop it.

“What are you doing today?” I ask to take my mind off my negative thoughts.

“Playing golf with my brothers this afternoon, and then I’ll probably have dinner with them and my parents. They go back to London this week sometime.” He sips his coffee. “You?”

I smile as I imagine the four of them playing golf. “I have to food shop. I’ll go for a walk and then write some bogus news stories.”

He stops eating. “You don’t have to work on the weekend, you know.”

“I know. I just like to be ahead of schedule in case something comes up.”

He nods and goes back to his breakfast. “Are you going out tonight?” he asks casually.

I’m not, but I don’t want him to think I’m at home pining over him. “Yes, I am.”

His eyes come to me, and his jaw ticks as if he’s angered. “Where are you going?”

“Out to dinner with Molly and Aaron.”