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Inside this ancient, slow-moving elevator, the answer comes to me with vivid clarity.
I want him.
I want him more than anything I’ve wanted in a very long time.
I want his scent in my nostrils, his mouth on my cock, his hair in my fist—any way I can get him, really. Anything he wants.
I reach the twelfth floor and move quickly to his door, knocking three times and sucking in another breath. I wipe a few beads of perspiration from my upper lip, and as I’m lowering my hand, he’s opening the door.
Still in cashmere, jeans, socks, his blue eyes blaze, searing me. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m sorry,” I say on the breath I’ve been holding.
He frowns and steps out of the doorway to let me in. “Sorry for…”
My words come out rushed. “That was a disaster, and you left upset, and I didn’t intend that, and I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault, Drew.” He sounds defeated. Hopeless. Fuck, I know that feeling.
We face each other in the foyer, and he reaches out to take my coat from my arms, hanging it next to one of his on a hook behind him. “Come upstairs,” he says.
I don’t argue. I can’t think of one reason not to do exactly as he says or any place I’d rather be tonight.
When he takes my hand, I hold on too tight.
He gives it a squeeze in return. “I’m glad you’re here,” he says when we reach the stairs.
“Thank you.”
“But you don’t have anything to apologize for. I was a mess. I made a terrible first impression. I could have tried harder.”
“I thought you were fine,” I tell him. “And I really love your sweater.”
He makes a soft sound like a laugh. We reach the top of the stairs, and he leads me over to the bed, which is made and looks fit for royalty. So many pillows. So much luxury.
Olivier lets go of my hand and turns to look at me. “Something happen after we left?”
“I just told her I wanted to be on my own tonight.”
He stares down at the foot of space between us. “But you’re not on your own, Drew.”
“I lied. Are you surprised?”
He swallows hard enough that it draws my gaze, his bruised throat bobbing just above the soft roll of his too-sexy turtleneck. I want to touch it. I want to touch everything.
“May I approach, your honor?” he asks.
I nod, and he closes the small gap, his hand coming up to rest on my cheek. He looks directly into my eyes and holds me steady with his gaze. His thumb brushes my cheekbone lightly, yet it sends rough shockwaves through my system. I suppress a shudder, but my breath quickens.
“I want more,” he says.
“Okay.”
“To be clear, I’m just talking about your body. I don’t have much to offer besides mine anyway, and after what you told me earlier, you don’t either. It doesn’t need to be complicated.”
“What do you want?” I ask, but what I really want to say is take everything.
“I want to kiss you. On the mouth. I want your tongue in my mouth.”
