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As soon as the elevator doors close, I’m all over her.
“Wait, aren’t there cameras in here?” Cosy asks as I press her against the mirrored glass.
I kiss up the side of her neck. I missed the shit out of her. “My family owns the building. I’ll make sure they erase the feed.”
She pushes me in the chest, firmly enough that I pull back. “You are so freaking entitled, it’s ridiculous.” Thankfully she looks mostly amused rather than annoyed by my entitlement.
She’s probably right. I’m very used to getting what I want when I ask for it, except with her. It never crossed my mind that telling the security guys to erase the feed from our time in the elevator was anything but reasonable. But what I failed to consider is that making out with Cosy in an elevator objectifies her, so I unwrap myself from around her and behave the rest of the ride.
I fully expect to resume making out as soon as we’re in my penthouse, but that’s not quite what happens.
Cosy drops her knapsack on the floor and turns in a slow circle before she finally comes to a stop facing me. “So, this is your pad?”
I shove my hands in my pockets. This almost feels like the first time you show someone your dick and are waiting for a reaction, something like “oh, wow.”
“Yes. This is my place.”
She does an about-face and heads for the kitchen. She peeks in the cupboards and makes a stop at the fridge. I follow behind her, not sure exactly how to take her inspection. She closes the fridge, gives me a look, and heads down the hall. She peeks in the bathroom, but keeps going until she reaches my bedroom.
She doesn’t need a light since there are candles all over the place, and rose petals, and champagne. I had the building concierge set it up this morning and someone came up to light the candles when we were on our way back here. I expect her to be impressed. As she spins around, her soles squeak on the hardwood floor, and she plants her fists on her hips. “How long have you lived here?”
“Less than a year.”
She motions to the bed, which is littered with fresh rose petals, then to the rest of the room. “Where the hell are you?”
I look down at myself, not sure I understand. “I’m right here.”
Cosy rolls her eyes. “I don’t mean your physical self. I mean, where is all your personality? It’s like a show home. There’s literally nothing out of place and nothing that gives me any indication that you actually inhabit this space. Also, this room is huge. You could throw a dance party in here.”
“I’m not here very much.”
“Tomorrow we’re going on an interior-decorating mission,” Cosy declares. “This place is so sterile, it reminds me of that movie with the psycho.”
“What movie?”
“The one where Christian Bale is a narcissist and kills a girl he slept with by throwing a chainsaw down a staircase.”
“Why the hell would you watch a movie like that?”
“To remind myself that sometimes pretty men are psychos.”
“I’m not a psycho. I just haven’t had a lot of time to devote to personalizing this place since I’ve been out of state since I bought the place.”
“Which was how long ago?”
“Right after my last relationship ended.” There was no way I wanted to stay in the place Imogen and I shared. Since then, I’ve spent more time out of New York than in it. Personal touches seemed irrelevant.
Cosy does the math. “Oh.”
“Tomorrow we can go art shopping and buy some knickknacks that you think best represent me.” I slip my arm around her waist. “But tonight all I want to do is focus on you.”Chapter Twenty-Three: The Tower of Mills MenCosy
We spend the night reacquainting ourselves while naked. In the morning we eat cereal for breakfast, then shower together, which leads to more sex. I discover that Griffin has already gone out and bought everything he ever remembers seeing in my bathroom. There’s also a section of his closet dedicated to clothes for me, and I have a dresser drawer full of underwear and lingerie. That leads to a fashion show, and of course, still more sex.
It’s noon by the time we leave his place. “I have somewhere I want to take you before we go knickknack shopping, is that okay?”
“Sure. Wanna tell me where?” I ask as I buckle myself in.
Griffin has his own driver here, so we’re both in the back seat. He calls out an address to the driver, who disappears a few seconds later behind the divider.
“It’s a surprise.” He unbuckles my seat belt.
“What’re you doing?”
“It’ll take half an hour to get there.” He nuzzles into my neck.
“Whoa.” I push on his chest. “I appreciate your interest in keeping me entertained, but my girl parts need more than an hour of recovery time before you get in there and work your magic on me again.”
