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“I have no idea what you mean,” he said, trying to sound innocent, and answered a question about the preservation initiative without moving his hand at all. I reached for my coffee and hoped my expression gave nothing away.

He waited until the donor turned away before he spoke again, his voice low. “I’d rather not take you home tonight, darling.”

The word made my heart skip a beat. At this rate, “darling” was going to become my own private Pavlovian trigger, sending me straight back to the moments before I came. I set the coffee down before I dropped it. Somewhere across the table, a man was still talking about endowment structures. I could not tell you a single thing he said.

“The apartment is quiet without you in it.” His thumb continued moving against the silk. “Stay with me.”

“There’s nowhere I’d rather be.”

His hand tightened on my thigh, and whatever was left of his composure went with it. “Then say the word and we leave.”

“The word,” I said.

Something flared in his expression—approval, hunger, both. He was already reaching for the back of my chair.

Chapter 20

Alexander

The penthouse was still when we returned.

Winston heard us before we reached the door. By the time I unlocked it, he was already waiting, his tail moving with enthusiasm that suited him perfectly.

Emilia laughed softly as she bent to stroke his head. “Hello to you too.”

He leaned into her hand with complete satisfaction. I closed the door behind us.

Trustees’ dinners were part of the Hall’s rhythm; I had attended enough of them over the years that they no longer surprised me. Tonight had been different. Not because of the speeches or the conversation, but because she had been there.

Emilia straightened and looked at me.

Without thinking, she reached up and removed one of her earrings, smiling almost apologetically as she held it between her fingers. “I forgot I was still wearing these.”

“They suited you.”

She slipped the second earring free before setting them carefully on the console near the entrance, like she had done it a hundred times. Like this was hers. Like I was hers. Four years I had wanted this woman, and somehow the thing that undid me wasn’t the dress, or the way it had held every curve of her all night. It was the sight of her making herself at home in my life as though she had always belonged.

Something in me came loose. I did not want the night for myself. I wanted to spend every hour of it on her, to give her so much pleasure she’d have no room left to doubt that she was wanted, that she was home, that she was mine.

These thoughts sent blood rushing straight to my cock. I crossed the room and drew her to me, close enough so she could feel how hard I was for her.

“Tonight, the only words that will be on your lips will be my name.”

“Does that start right now, Alexander?”

“Yes,” I said as I took her hand and led her to the bedroom.

Inside, I let go of her hand and stepped back. I pulled the tie loose and tossed it aside, then unbuttoned my shirt and shrugged out of it. Her eyes moved over me, understanding my intent and reaching to meet it.

“Stand still and watch me. That’s all I want from you tonight.”

I stepped close and eased the pins out of her hair one by one. It fell across her shoulders. I gathered it gently to one side and breathed her in.

“I’ve been thinking about this all evening.”

I moved behind her. She started to turn, and I stopped her with a hand at her hip. “Watch,” I reminded her, and nodded toward the mirror.

I found the zipper at the small of her back and drew it down, slow, one tooth at a time, until I could ease the dress from her shoulders and let it fall. I pulled her back against me and brought my lips to her ear. “Remember, nothing but my name.”