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“Yeah, I am.” He glanced over at her, and she got the sense he was as surprised as she was. “To be honest, I’ve never taken a woman to my place.”
“So why me?”
Matt huffed out a breath, then gave her a pretty simple answer that she sensed possessed more layers than were immediately apparent. “Because I want you to see where I live.”
“Why haven’t you taken anyone else to see it?”
Matt gave her a crooked grin. He’d told her on more than one occasion that she asked too many questions, and while that might have been a complaint at the beginning, she could tell he was more amused than annoyed nowadays.
“I’m a private man, Liza, and I’ve never trusted any of the women I dated enough to take them into my home.”
His admission warmed her because the idea that he trusted her meant the world to her. Every second she was with him, she fell deeper and deeper in love. Not that she’d told him that yet. After all, they were only a couple weeks into this thing and given both of their lack of long-term relationships, she’d be smart to let a little more time pass before making such a huge declaration.
“Thank you,” she said softly, reaching across the console to place her hand on his thigh. Matt grasped it, placing a kiss on her palm then lacing their fingers together, squeezing her hand affectionately.
They’d had a few discussions about their past relationships—or lack thereof in Matt’s case. He’d made it clear that he took lovers to his bed for sex and sex only, so it stood to reason, he wouldn’t have taken them to his home. In addition to being private, Matt was also extremely wealthy and, according to him, gold-diggers were a very real threat. He’d spent the better part of an hour telling her about some of the extremes women had gone to in order to land him or his brothers. Billionaire hunters, he’d called them, and his stories had made Liza ashamed of her gender.
“I would have packed an overnight bag—some pajamas, toiletries, or even just thrown my toothbrush in my purse if I’d known,” she said, when she realized all she had with her were the sweaty clothes she was wearing.
“I made a note of the brands and scents in your bathroom and had them stocked in mine. And you don’t sleep in pajamas when you’re in bed with me,” he added in a deliciously dark voice.
He’d made that rule the first night they were back from Hawaii, informing her that wearing pajamas to bed was a punishable offense. She hadn’t had the chance to test that theory because clothes were the first thing to go when they got home from work, and by the time they were ready to fall asleep, she was too physically wrung out from orgasms—multiple—to even think about getting out of bed in search of pj’s.
She was touched Matt had taken the time to buy her what she needed, but even so, she didn’t look forward to having to put these smelly clothes back on in the morning. He could have given her a heads-up. “Do you own a washer and dryer?” she asked. “Or do you rich guys just send all your clothes to the dry cleaners? Or maybe you buy everything new because doing laundry is so middle class,” she teased.
“Smart-ass.” Matt tugged on her ponytail, grinning at her joke. “I have lounge pants and a sweatshirt you can use in the morning. I’ll drive you home early enough that you can change for work. Unless you prefer I call my PA and have him purchase and deliver a new wardrobe to my place tonight.”
She rolled her eyes, even though she didn’t doubt he could do as he offered. “Lounge pants work.”
Tomorrow was Friday—TGIF. Working a full week following that trip to paradise would have been hard enough, but she also had to add in her unquenchable desire to spend every waking hour wrapped up in Matt’s arms. Consequently, the days had crept at a snail’s pace, while the evenings passed in the blink of an eye.
The rest of the ride was made in companionable silence. Liza perked up when Matt pulled into a parking garage beneath a large building.
“Russo Enterprises owns quite a few apartment buildings in the city,” Matt explained. “My brothers and I each claimed the top two floors of three of them, creating the penthouses that we call our homes.”
Matt pulled into his reserved spot and the two got out of the car, walking hand-in-hand to the elevator.
“Mine’s the biggest,” he said with a grin when they got into the elevator.
“Of course it is,” she teased. “It’s that overcompensation thing all over again.”
“You know what they say…big jet, big penthouse, big…” Matt wiggled his eyebrows and she laughed. He used a key card to push the button to the top floor, then wrapped his arm around Liza’s waist, tucking her close.
Liza wasn’t sure what she expected when the elevator doors slid open, but she didn’t expect to step directly into Matt’s home. The elevator literally opened into his living room.
“Holy shit,” she breathed as she took in the floor-to-ceiling windows that offered the best view of Philadelphia she’d ever seen.
Matt stood next to her but didn’t say anything as she stepped farther inside, slowly making her way around the room. It was clear to Liza that the place had been decorated by a professional rather than Matt himself, because—while it was tasteful and elegant and magazine-worthy—it didn’t feel like Matt’s style.
“How about a shower first, then we can figure out dinner,” Matt suggested. “I’ll give you the grand tour of the place once we’re out of these sticky clothes.”
Liza’s workout clothes were clinging to her, so she was all for getting out of them. “That sounds great.”
As they traversed the hall, Matt quickly pointed out the kitchen and dining room, his home office, and the theater room on the first floor, before they climbed the circular staircase to the second story, which consisted of two guest rooms and a huge master suite complete with a bathroom that was bigger than her entire home.
“It occurs to me you’ve been slumming it this past week at my apartment,” she said, only half joking.
Matt laughed. “I love your place. It’s warm and comfortable and every inch of it is you.”
