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"Is it that obvious?" I sighed and my cheeks burned with a blush I couldn't quite suppress.
"Only to someone who pays attention." His lips brushed against the shell of my ear and shivers cascaded down my spine. "Your feelings are valid, Averill. You don't always have to put everyone else first."
"New concept for me." I felt the weight of his gaze as he peered into my soul. "Not exactly my forte, giving a damn about what I want."
"Maybe it's time to start." Ansel's thumb traced circles over my back. His eyes locked onto mine, earnest and intense. "Love is a vast and beautiful creature, Averill," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "Your heart can hold it for more than one person, and each with a depth that's staggering."
"Fuck," I muttered, the word slipping out as his proximity turned my thoughts into a haze of desire. I leaned in, ready to surrender to the kiss I knew would sear me to the core, but Ansel hesitated, his fingertips grazing my cheek.
"I need to know this is what you want," he said, "and that you're clear-headed enough to make this choice."
"Never been clearer," I lied, because everything was as murky as the Hudson River, but I craved him with a ferocity that drowned out reason.
Our lips met, and the world fell away—the taste of champagne on his tongue was intoxicating, the press of his mouth against mine electric. When he pulled away his eyes smoldered and he extended his hand toward the corridor that led away from the ballroom.
"Let's find somewhere more… private," he murmured, and I let him lead me down the dimly lit hallway.
Anticipation coiled tight inside me as we ascended towards his penthouse floor, where promises and passion waited for me—and, maybe even, a night that would change everything.
Chapter
Ten
The city was sprawled out beneath us like a kingdom of lights. I couldn't help but think that if the world was going to go to shit, a penthouse with its floor-to-ceiling windows wouldn't be a bad place to watch the world burn from. Ansel's hand at the small of my back was warm, a silent promise that was both terrifying and thrilling.
"Welcome to my humble abode," he said with a smirk as he gestured grandly to the steel and glass space that screamed 'I'm richer than you' in every minimalist line.
"Wow, you really need to work on your definition of 'humble'," I tried to keep the awe out of my voice. I'd seen swanky joints in my line of work, but this was something else. Even the rain against the windows looked expensive.
Ansel laughed. "I'll make a note of it."
We stood close, the air between us charged with the kind of electricity that could power all the neon signs in Times Square. And then we were moving together, hands fumbling with fabric, but not in the clumsy way of two people who didn't know what they were doing. This was anticipation, thick and hearty, laced with the desire that had been simmering since our eyes first met.
His fingers traced the ink on my arms, each tattoo a scar from a past life I'd rather forget. But there I was, laying it bare for him. His touch was meticulous, like he understood that he was reading a story written in pain and resilience.
"Your tattoos... they're..." He struggled to find the word, his gaze never leaving the artwork on my skin.
"Permanent reminders of temporary feelings," I finished the thought for him, my voice a mix of sarcasm and raw honesty. "Like a hangover that never quite goes away."
He laughed, and I felt the vibration through his chest against mine. Our clothes fell away, piece by piece, until we stood there, two souls stripped down to nothing but vulnerability and aching need.
"God, Averill," he breathed my name like a prayer. Normally, I wasn't the religious type unless you counted my faith in the holy trinity of whiskey, coffee, and avoiding emotional attachments. But something about this felt different.
Our kisses were slow, deliberate, a faint dance of lips and tongues that promised more than just a quick fuck against the expensive Egyptian cotton sheets of his bed. There was tenderness there, unexpected and unwelcome. Because tenderness led to feelings, and feelings were about as welcome in my life as a fart in a fucking spacesuit.
The reflection of the city in the window watched us, a million eyes full of secrets and sins like my own. But there, in Ansel's arms, I allowed myself the illusion of safety, even if it was as fleeting as the lightning that split the sky outside.
"Shit," I muttered under my breath as Ansel and I stumbled into his bathroom—with its marble counters and a bathtub so big it could have doubled as a goddamn swimming pool. "You could drown a small army in here."
"Only if they're exceptionally small," His lips curved into a smirk that did things to me I didn't want to admit.
Ansel's fingers trailed down my spine, unhurried, and ignited a trail of sparks that sizzled beneath my skin. The heat of the water lapped at our legs as we sank into the liquid extravagance, the steam rising up around us like mist off a forbidden cove. Our bodies found a natural rhythm, buoyant in the warm embrace of the bath, brought on by too much champagne and not enough common sense.
"God, this is... nice," I breathed, because ‘nice’ was a safe word. It didn’t betray the fact that my nerves sang hymns to the heat of his touch or the way the water seemed to kiss every inch of skin it touched. My words were lost somewhere between my mouth and the place where his lips met my collarbone.
There was something sacred in the silence that followed, punctuated only by the symphony of rain and the hum of the city below. Ansel’s hand moved across my skin with awe, tracing the inked reminders of my past lives like he was committing each one to memory.
"Hey," he said after a while, his voice softened with a vulnerability that made my chest tighten. "Can I tell you something?"
