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He collapses onto my body, crushing me between his hardness and the couch as we both try to catch our breath, letting the ripples of pleasure consume us.
“Fuck, Val.”
Like last time, now that the deed has been done, regret starts to seep in. He is my enemy. I need to remember that.
I start to wiggle, needing to be free. I can finally draw a deep breath as he peels off my body, but before I can lower my feet to the ground, I’m back in his arms being carried to the dining table just a few feet away.
The sun has almost set, making the flickering candles that much more romantic in the darkening room.
“I need to go,” I object, with little force.
“Don’t be silly. As much as I’d love to watch you eating naked, I’ll go grab us robes. Stay… we can enjoy a good meal…good wine…more sex.”
I finally glance up as he stands over me. I expect to see him gloating that he’s once again mastered my body. Instead, I’m just in time to watch him lean down and place a soft kiss on the top of my head before turning to fetch the robes.
After all the horrible things we’ve said and done to each other over the years, that simple kiss feels so out of place. How am I supposed to sit across the table from him and pretend that we don’t have this whole sordid history between us?
Lifting the plate warmer closest to me, the heavenly scent of a steak wafts out, dragging a growl from my empty stomach.
Even that body part is a traitor and wants to stay.
Chapter Thirteen
ATLAS
It’s fair to say that a night of lobster, steak, bubbly, and a good fuck makes for a perfect night. But nothing… and I repeat nothing is better than all that and doing it all with Valentina Key. As I lie in the bed we fucked the night away in, and briefly slept in, and watch her begin dressing so she can do the walk of shame through the lobby of The Whitney in the same clothes she arrived in yesterday, I can’t help but want more.
I want so much more. Last night was just an appetizer…again. Each interaction—intimate or not—with Valentina almost feels as if I’m leading up to the main course. The curiosity is killing me as to what will be on the menu.
“Where are you going?” I ask, watching her pull her clothing back on. It’s a shame to see fabric cover such a stunning masterpiece. “You don’t need to leave so soon. Maybe we can have breakfast in bed.”
Valentina doesn’t seem like the girl that does cuddles and breakfast in bed, but I feel the need to offer. Anything to not watch her vanish through the doors, slipping from my grasp.
She’s an artwork even I can’t steal. But I sure as fuck want to.
“I have things to do,” Valentina says. “I shouldn’t have stayed the night.”
“Why not?” I stretch my body, allowing the sheet to slip off my lower region in hopes of tempting her to change her mind. I’m not used to having women stay the night, but with Valentina, I’m willing to make the exception.
Her eyes dart to my hardening cock, but she quickly diverts them. “I need to track down Omar and apologize for missing the meeting.”
“Who cares what the man thinks. You don’t owe anyone an apology. Especially that asshole.”
“I do if I still want a chance at the job. And I do.”
“I told you not to take the job.”
Her eyebrow raises as she gives me a smirk. “Your point?”
“I told you it’s dangerous and you aren’t doing it.”
“You aren’t my Daddy.”
“Maybe you need a Daddy.”
My cock twitches at the idea of telling Valentina what to do, how to do it, and exactly at the speed in which to do it. I’d not only be her Daddy in life—protecting her, nurturing her—but I’d Daddy the fuck out of her in bed. She’d learn real quick just how Daddy likes his dick sucked and his baby girl—
“I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that,” she interrupts my wicked thoughts. “I’m also going to pretend last night didn’t happen.”
“Why?”
“Because I’d like to forget my mistakes.”
“Last night was far from a mistake.” I reach out for her arm and pull her back to the bed. “Let me prove it.”
She wiggles her way free. “I told you I have to go.”
“Where do you have to go? I already told you that you aren’t taking the Omar job. So come back to bed.”
She puts her hands on her hips and stares directly into my eyes. “I keep telling you this,” she says with a sigh. “Some people have to actually work for a living, Atlas.” She motions around the room with her hands. “Some people can’t stay in an expensive hotel for the rest of their lives eating and drinking in a fancy restaurant while housekeeping picks up their dirty laundry. Some people have to actually take jobs they may not want to do in order to pay the bills. Some people have to work.”
