“Unless you have a blouse exactly like mine somewhere in this office, I don’t see how you can manage that.”
The primness in her tone amuses me. Smoothing a finger over the fabric, I meet her eyes and give an unapologetic smile. “I doubt a blouse like that would look as good on me as it did on you.”
She doesn’t reply, and I hit a button on my desk.
“Mr. Court?” Tony says through the speakers.
“I’m going out. Reschedule the Clifton meeting.” I end the conversation and usher Rachel out of the office through a rear door. There’s a small waiting room then stairs leading up to the apartment I use when I’m too swamped with work to go back to my apartment at the Swanson Court.
Rachel glances from the stairs to my face. “Don’t tell me you have an apartment here as well.”
I lead her up. “I do.”
“How many apartments do you have?”
“A few.” I give her a reassuring smile. “The apartment at the hotel belongs to my family, and I spent some of my childhood there. This is where I mostly live these days, especially when I’m busy with work.”
She follows me inside, looking around. The apartment is much smaller than the one at the Swanson Court, but it works for me.
“This is convenient,” she says, lips pursed. “Every workaholic’s dream. Why leave work when you can live at work?”
I hold her gaze. “One more dig at me, and I’m going to have to fuck you again just to keep your mouth otherwise occupied.” I ignore her scandalized expression. “Make yourself comfortable. There’re drinks in the fridge, over there.” I show her. “I’ll be right back.”
In my bedroom, I pause in front of the closet, surprised by how calm I am. I can still hear Rachel’s moans in the back of my head. I want her again, almost as if I haven’t just made love to her. Now that I know I’ll have her for a week, I’m eager to use that time to quench this wild desire that’s slowly driving me insane.
I retrieve a sweater from the closet. It’s green, like her eyes. I emerge from the bedroom and find her in the kitchen drinking from a bottle of sparkling water.
I hand her the sweater. “You can wear this.”
She accepts it then shrugs off her ruined blouse. My eyes linger on her bare skin, the creamy rise of her breasts, but only for a moment before she pulls the sweater on.
I fold the blouse and hand it back to her. “It looks better on you than it ever did on me,” I say, referring to the sweater.
She snorts. “Somehow, I doubt that.”
I can’t help smiling. “I love it when you pay me compliments.”
She shrugs, resistant to my teasing. “I was only making an observation.”
“I love your complimentary observations.”
She chuckles. Not so resistant after all. Her eyes meet mine, and for a second, there’s a startling vulnerability in their depths.
“So, what now?”
I reach out and curl a strand of her silky hair around my finger. The mixture of red and gold is entrancing. “Now that there’s no question of how good we are together, I hope you’ll finally agree to spend more time with me.”
“You mean sex.”
“Lots of it.”
She shakes her head. “Actually, I meant, what happens right now?”
I chuckle and release her hair. “Now, I take you home.”
She follows me down to one of the underground parking floors and to my Jaguar. I don’t drive often, but when I do, I love a beautiful car. I drive through the busy streets, stopping in front of her four-story walk-up. There’s something I need to say to her, and I spil
l it out before I change my mind.