It’s scary how quickly I’ve allowed Hugo to steal my heart. I shouldn’t be surprised, though. He’s been the only man occupying my heart the past ten years, so it was easy for me to relinquish its care to him. I’ve always said my crush on Hugo was childish and immature, but in all honesty, I loved him from the moment I tackled him to the ground and straddled his hips.
“Do you have time to talk now?” he queries, his voice rough.
Smiling, I nod my head. My heart stutters when he puts me back down onto my feet before he places the key into the elevator panel, selecting the penthouse button.
“How did you get a key for the elevator?” I ask, my voice croaky from the roughness of our kiss.
“My boss owns the building.”
I gasp. Now I know why I’d thought I’d seen him before. He was the young man sitting in the corner of the room when I entrusted my money to the company building my apartment.
“Does your boss have a name, or are you just going to keep calling him ‘Boss?’” I ask, my tone playful.
My pulse flutters when a broad grin stretches across Hugo’s sinfully handsome face. “I might just call him Boss. It has a nice ring to it.”
I roll my eyes, pretending I’m not loving his playfulness. When the elevator arrives at Hugo’s floor, he encircles his hand around mine. The erratic pounding of my heart starts up again as we pace towards his door. When we reach the door, he expands onto his tippy toes and gathers a key from the top lip of the door. No matter how many times I advised the Marshall family that it isn’t a safe practice, they continue to store their keys on the lip of the door frame.
Hugo opens his apartment door and gestures for me to enter before him.
“Why did it make you angry?” I question, kicking off my shoes and placing them at the side of the entranceway table.
He throws his keys and cell phone into a crystal bowl on the table. “Did what make me angry?” he replies, spinning to secure the deadbolt on the door.
I lick my tingling lips. “That I was a virgin,” I squeak out.
Hugo stops frozen, dead in his tracks. I mimic his frozen posture as a frenzy of emotions twist my stomach. When he turns on his heels and looks down at me, I'm taken aback. I was expecting to see anger reflecting out of his eyes, not remorse.
“It didn’t make me angry, Ava. I just wish you would have told me.”
“And how exactly should I have done that? Had business cards made up to hand out on dates, warning them they were in the presence of a naïve virgin?”
I try to keep the bitchiness out of my tone. I fail miserably. Why is it anytime someone mentions the word virgin, guys run for the hill? I could think of far worse words that could be used when referring to a women’s sexual experience.
Hugo smirks at my witty comment, but his heart isn’t fully into it. “I would have happily accepted a card if it avoided me hurting you.”
My eyes snap to his. “You didn’t hurt me,” I say, my voice relaying my surprise.
His appearance pales. “You bled, Ava,” he stumbles out nervously, his voice high.
I take a step towards him. “That’s normal. That happens all the time,” I reply, staring into his remorseful eyes. “Have you never slept with a virgin before?”
His eyes widen as he shakes his head.
I smile, loving that although I’m not the first woman he has slept with, I am his first something. “Well, I guess you’re just going to have to take my word for it. You didn’t hurt me. I’m perfectly fine.”
My pulse strums the veins in my neck when he takes a step closer to me. “I don’t have to take your word. You can prove it to me.”
“How?” My overly girly voice echoes in the foyer of his apartment.
Agitated excitement spurs through me when I see the look of hunger forming in his eyes. “You can show me.”
Eagerness builds as he places his hand on the small of my back and leads me through his residence. Because his apartment is the exact replica of mine, only ten times bigger, I know where he is leading me. My aching muscles from lack of sleep the past week loosen, surrendering to the gentleness of his touch as he guides me towards the master suite of his penthouse.
An array of emotions hit me at once when he swings open his bedroom door. Standing on shaky legs, my eyes absorb the grandeur of the room. A king-size bed covered in dark, rich material sits in the middle, a walk-in closet Carrie fromSex and the Citywould die for is on my right, and rich material covers the floor-to-ceiling windows on my left. The room is impressive and very manly. Overwhelming desire runs rampantly through my veins when the scent of Hugo’s aftershave hits my senses, closely followed by the smell of his skin.
I swallow hard when he walks me to the side of the bed, unbuttoning my blouse on the way. The material sags off my shoulders before toppling to the floor. I inhale a quick, sharp breath when his gaze drops to absorb my body. His gaze is predatory and hungry, and it has my pulse thrumming. His hands make quick work of my jeans, yanking them down my quaking thighs in no time at all until I am once again standing before him in nothing but a pair of panties and a lace bra.
“Lay down on the bed,” Hugo instructs, nudging his head to the monstrous bed.
