Celebrated is incorrect, but let’s go with that. Leyla and I were having a pity party while her estranged husband openly flirted with one of Blaire’s friends and Henry had disappeared.
I search for Leyla, but she’s not around.
“Where is she?”
“Pierce took her home,” he answers. “I think we should do the same.”
I chuckle. “I don’t have a home. Sure, I live in the penthouse of a luxurious hotel in the heart of Manhattan, but can I call it home?”
“How drunk are you?”
I reposition myself so we can be face to face. The golden flecks in his green eyes glisten with the flame of the candles set on the tables. This would be so romantic, but it makes me feel lonely.
“I don’t need to be drunk to tell you how I see the world,” I respond. “You complain about having brothers and living in a mansion with all of them. I bet it’s ten times better than being in New York, alone.”
“Do you need new housing accommodations?” His question infuriates me, and before I can snap, he says, “You live in the presidential suite of one of the best hotels in the world—for free—and you’re lamenting your luck. What else could you possibly need?”
“First of all, it’s not free. I work my ass off for you and your company. I earn my living. Pets aren’t allowed,” I complain. “Not that I could take care of one. Between my parents and you, I don’t have time for…anything. Do you have any idea when was the last time I went out on a date?”
“Let’s head to your room,” he insists, helping me stand up and then with my jacket.
“This is a new jacket,” he states. “I’m guessing you bought it along with the dress and those lacy shoes?”
I smirk and whisper, “The manager at Chanel called me Thursday. They had a new line and I couldn’t resist. Everything matches. The purse, the shoes…” I whisper, “and the lingerie.”
He gasps, his lips part, and he stares at me with an expression I can’t identify, but how I wish it was hunger.
“You’re going to be the death of me, Ms. Aragon.”
I could be a lot of things. What would it be to add lover to my duties?
“Definitely drunk,” he confirms as we walk toward the elevator.
“No,” I insist.
He shakes his head. “If you were sober, you wouldn’t be blurting nonsense.”
As we step onto the elevator, he presses the button of the top floor.
“So, would you rather be at a house than the presidential suite?” he questions.
I glance at him and shake my head. “I would rather not be lonely. What’s the point of having so much when you have no one to share it with?”
He crosses his arms and crooks his eyebrow.
“Sorry,” I apologize because once those words leave my mouth, I realize that I am describing his life.
“Why is it that my family and you think that my life is pathetic?” he grunts and stops the elevator, pushing me to a corner. His arms on each side of my body, caging me. “My life is different. This is all I know. I. Am. Content. With. It.”
“But are you happy?” I question. “Do you really have everything you desire?”
Heat climbs upon my body. My cheeks flush after I blurt the word desire. Maybe he’s right. I’m drunk, because all I can think about is the kiss we shared.
What am I doing?
He reaches out and strokes my burning face with his fingertips. “I always get what and who I want.”
Henry slides his hand under my chin, lifting it.
“Longing is an unknown word to me, because once I wish for something, I make it my mission to own it,” he says, his thumb caressing my bottom lip.
His penetrating eyes watch me with the desire he claims not to have. A longing as deep as mine.
I straighten my shoulders and give him a challenging glare, “Why the restraint?”
“With you? That’s something I keep asking myself every day,” he responds. “Listen, I don’t force people to accept me. Being Henry Aldridge isn’t easy. I have conditions, limits, and rules to protect myself. Sometimes I just take what I want and move on.”
He twists my long hair with one hand, pulling it down and kissing my exposed neck. “With you, I don’t want to just take. I want you to be willing to give. I want to seduce you. I want you to surrender all that power you exude, to me.”
He nibbles my neck, running his free hand slowly up and down my back. My body is shaking, and I’m not sure if it’s from his words, his lips, or the tension that’s building between us. My skin is burning, and I’m gasping for air.
“I want to own you,” he continues, and I shiver when his hand reaches under my skirt and his fingers grace my skin as it climbs to my core. “Claim every inch of your body and call you mine.”
A sound between a gasp and a whimper escapes my throat when his finger moves aside the silky fabric of my underwear and he runs his fingers down my slit. His eyes fixate on me. I heave when he buries his digit inside me, rubbing the heel of his palm against my heat.
“You’re soaking wet,” he says, his stubble rubs against my jaw as he nibbles the sensitive skin behind my ear.
I move against his hand, seeking release. His fingers tighten and I order, “Faster.”
“Sophia,” he hisses. “If you weren’t drunk, I’d rip your panties off and fuck you senseless.”
“I’m not drunk,” I argue, almost panting.
All I want is for him to thrust his length deep inside me.
Instead, he withdraws his finger.
Suddenly, I’m hollow and highly unsatisfied.
I’m so close to begging him for more, offering myself to him, because I’ve become a puddle of desire. My mouth opens wide when he licks his finger clean, and smirks. “You taste better than I imagined. And you might not be unconscious drunk, but I know you’re not yourself.”
Henry pushes the button of the elevator, and it continues its way up to the top floor where the presidential suite is, and where I’m staying. When we arrive, he uses his master key to open it and helps me inside.
“You’re an asshole,” I say as I enter the room and as I’m about to shut the door, he stops me.
He appraises me from top to bottom and smirks. “I’ve been called worse.”
“What game are you playing, Henry Aldridge?” I ask instead of telling him to go and fuck himself.
“The day we fuck, Sophia, it’ll be when you are sober, and not because you feel lonely,” he states, setting his arm around my waist and pulling my body to his. “Or when you pity me because you believe that I’m the unhappiest man on this fucking planet.”
He brushes my hair over my shoulder and leans in to kiss me. His mouth meets mine, and I shiver as his tongue pushes between my lips. I cling my arms around his powerful shoulders as I melt into the rawest kiss I’ve ever experienced in my life. Underneath my skin, there’s a wildfire spreading. There are so many contradictions swirling inside my head. The craving for his firm hand tugging my hair as he fucks me hard against the wall. The longing for his mouth whispering loving words as he slowly thrusts himself inside me. The need to push him away from me because I’m jeopardizing my entire life.