Chapter 9
Sophia
I stood there, my weight held on my palms and Lucas's cock buried deeply inside of me, trying to catch my breath and gather myself. Without him holding me up by the hips and the table under my hands, I'd have melted into the floor. I couldn't believe what had just happened. Not only had I fucked my boss, I'd gone wild and let him fuck me hard and fast. There I was in the office, bent over his drafting table with my skirt shoved up around my waist, my panties around my ankles, and him behind me.
I'd lost sight of everything around us. Awareness slowly filtered in. I didn't know what I’d expected, but it wasn't what he said next.
“Come home with me,” he said, his voice raspy in the quiet office.
I glanced over my shoulder to find him looking down at me, his piercing green gaze dark and intent. There was a hint of vulnerability there. It pinged in my heart. Before thought could interfere, I spoke.
“Okay.”
It was Friday. I wouldn't normally be coming into the office tomorrow. I didn't know why I thought that just now, but I did. Lucas held my gaze for another beat and then nodded. He slowly drew back, and I instantly missed the sensation of him filling me. Ever efficient, he disposed of the condom, tucked himself back into his jeans and put my clothes back in place before I even managed to straighten and stand up. My knees wobbled when I did, and he was there, his arm curling around my waist and steadying me at the hip. Next thing I knew, we were walking back down the street.
Lucas, unlike some executives, appeared to eschew a private limo. I was aware from Suzanne he occasionally used a driver, but most days he walked to the office. It felt good to be out in the cool night air. Even past midnight, the streets still hummed with energy. New York City never slept. He walked at my side, his hand resting on my low back. Inside of a few minutes, we were back at his building. The badass doorman was still on duty. With an impassive expression, he let us in, and Lucas escorted me through the lobby to the main elevators.
The
elevator whisked us upstairs, letting us out directly into his apartment. I glanced around, taking it in. I supposed it wasn’t a penthouse because it wasn’t on the top floor, but the word apartment didn’t seem adequate. Not that I would have expected anything less, but it was beautiful. We stepped into a tiled entryway. Lucas kicked off his shoes, and I followed suit. He spoke for the first time since we’d left his offices.
“Let me show you around,” he said, his voice low in the quiet space.
We stepped through an archway leading into a high ceiling living room. Floor-to-ceiling windows looked out over the skyline of Manhattan, the city lights glittering in the darkness. I could see out past the port with the ocean glimmering under the moonlight in the distance. The flooring was glossy hardwood with plush rugs scattered throughout the space. Muted lights came on as we entered. It was obvious everything was set on motion sensors. The room was decorated with clean, modern lines. The furniture was soft grays and creams with splashes of color in the rugs. A large sectional couch was in the center of the room with a plush ottoman. Shelves lined the walls, containing a mix of books and sculptures. As with the offices, watercolors and photographs of the outdoors were the only artwork adorning the walls, clearly a preference of his.
A fireplace framed with mosaic glass tiles was the centerpiece on one wall. Lucas walked me through the living room into an absolutely stunning kitchen. The floor was tiled in a soft gray tile, and the counters were topped in granite to match. Stainless steel appliances and a beautiful island with copper cookware hanging from the ceiling above anchored the space. Based on the state of this kitchen, I’d assume Lucas liked to cook, yet it somehow surprised me.
I glanced up to him. “Do you actually use this kitchen?”
His mouth hitched at the corner, sending my belly in a slow flip. Dear God, he shouldn't be allowed to smile, not like that. His half-grins were downright dangerous.
“Actually, I do. I love to cook,” he replied. “Suzanne says I should hire a cook, but it's one of the few things I like to do in my spare time.”
I filed that little bit of information away, uncertain how to incorporate this into my overall understanding of him. He was a man of intellect, and intellectual pursuits drove his entire career, the force of it shaping changes in the world. It was hard to imagine a man like that also being passionate about cooking. Yet, he was.
“I love to cook too,” I added.
The other half of his mouth curled up. Oh. My. God. I was a mess. All he had to do was smile, and I melted.
“Perfect,” was all he said.
I would’ve loved to have an evening here cooking with him, but that seemed far more domestic than what we had. I stayed quiet as we walked through the kitchen down a short hallway. We passed by what I presumed to be his home office. It was similar to his office a few blocks away with a large drafting table in the center of the room, papers scattered across its surface and computer monitors on either end of the table. It was a little messier that his work office. We passed by several closed doors and then went through a door at the end, entering into a large atrium.
I glanced around in wonder. The air felt soft and warm, scented with greenery and flowers. My brain instantly computed what it was.
I glanced at him. “Is this a set up where you produce and recycle energy and water in here?”
He flashed a grin. “Of course. I can afford it, so I do it. I also like the garden. I have help to manage it. I know this isn't practical for the whole world, but it's fun here.”
After we passed through there, we stepped into another room. Oh my God. He had his own private pool. It wasn’t too large, but long enough for laps. There was a sauna in the corner, and a hot tub at the far side of the pool.
He nudged his chin toward a door in the back. “That's my workout area. I'm not like some people who like to work out and socialize. I’d rather work out privately.”
I simply nodded, staying quiet and absorbing more details about this man. He led me back out of the pool room, through the garden atrium and down the hallway. He opened a door across from his office, and we stepped into his bedroom. More clean lines and a complete lack of clutter. He had a king bed in the center of the room, low to the floor with built-in bookcases behind it. A double-wide door led into what was obviously the master bathroom. He began undressing, and I followed suit. Thought didn’t seem to enter the equation when I was with him. I simply moved on instinct.
Before I knew it, Lucas had my hand in his and was tugging me into the shower. The bathroom was tiled in jade colored tile. A large soaking tub was in the corner, two sinks were situated on a simple glossy wooden cabinet with stained glass bowls, and a shower was in the opposite corner tiled in the same soft jade. Perhaps the only thing that seemed ridiculous was how many showerheads there were. There were the two rainfall showerheads above and multiple jets along the walls. I almost commented that it seemed likely he would be wasting water before I realized the setup he’d arranged with the atrium garden likely recycled all of his water.
After a quick shower, he wrapped me in a luxurious towel, and then we were crawling into his bed. He tucked the feather light quilt around us. He was a quiet man, that I'd come to know. At the moment, his tendency toward quiet was a good thing because I didn't know what the hell to say at this point. I fell into the best sleep I'd had in years. My body was utterly sated, and it felt so good to curl up beside him.