Page 50 of Without Apology

He must’ve read them on my face. “Keep looking at me that way.” Now it was his turn to blow out a breath.

Could I help it if I wanted to press the boundaries, see if he was as affected by me as I was with his presence? “What way is that?”

“Like you want to kiss me.”

“Maybe I do.”

His expression darkened before he snagged my legs up to his lap and slipped off my shoes.

“What are you doing?” This was the moment I sincerely hoped my feet didn’t smell. Not cool.

I worried up until the point his hands went to work on the arch of my foot, and I practically moaned.

He paused, taking a deep breath and shutting his eyes.

“Sorry. The massage feels really good.” Talk about mixed signals. Then again, as he rubbed my feet, I wasn’t sure I cared. The man was going to reduce me to a pile of mush.

“Don’t apologize.”

Given how easily I offered them and the fact he couldn’t, I wondered if I’d offended him.

“I like that sound of pleasure coming from you,” he explained.

He hit a sensitive part of my foot, which had me biting my lip. Suddenly, I wondered if he had an intention of inspiring that sound later.

***

At the twenty-four-hour, thirty-six-minute mark we finally pulled up in front of a high rise in Manhattan. I felt as if I’d been hit by a truck. I might’ve been awestruck by the modern structure, marble-and-glass lobby, or decadent décor if I hadn’t been deliriously exhausted. I’d tried to sleep again. Simon had offered his lap, then his shoulder. But to no avail. All I’d managed was an hour or two here or there.

He, on the other hand, didn’t look any the worse for wear. He took my bag and led me into the elevator. At that point, it dawned on me I hadn’t seen a sign for the hotel. “What is the name of this place?” Not that I cared a lot, but I found it strange the lobby didn’t resemble a hotel, either.

“Park Tower Two.”

Although I might not travel, I’d heard of some brands but not this one. “What hotel is that?”

“It’s not. It’s a residence building.”

“Whose?”

“Mine.”

Okay. Now we’d gone from mixed signals to a full-on neon sign telling me this had just become very personal. The elevator dinged at floor thirty. I had no choice but to follow him off and down the hall. He took out a key and opened the third door to the left.

“This is your place?”

“Yes. Come on. You’re knackered and need to get some proper sleep. You want some water? There should be some in the fridge.”

I stepped inside the spacious condo, noting the tasteful living area of a couch and loveseat facing a picturesque window with a view of the city. It was an open floor plan, including a kitchen sporting modern appliances and a sit-in island with two stools. While he was busy checking the thermostat and walking back to where I assumed the bedroom was, I opened the fridge. It was fully stocked.

As I grabbed a water bottle, I felt completely confused about having been taken to Simon’s place. The burning question was why?

“Let me show you to your room.” He came back and tugged on my hand to lead me down the hall. “There is an en-suite bathroom.”

We walked into a huge master bedroom that also had a window view of the city beneath. “But this is your bedroom.” Why wasn’t he getting this was weird?

“It’s okay. I’ll be up for a while, and if I want to nap, I’ll take the guest room.”

His hand remained in mine while he watched me carefully. Unable to restrain the words burning in my mind, I had to ask. “Why here and not a hotel room?”

He frowned before pulling away and grabbing some towels out of the hall closet. “Here are some fresh towels. There are toiletries in there, too. Help yourself. I’ll order lunch for around one pm in case you get hungry.”

“Simon, why here?”

He turned, the expression on his face telling me he was having a tough time finding the words. “How about we discuss it after your interview? Unless you’re uncomfortable. In which case, I can have you in a hotel down the block in the next fifteen minutes.”

Vulnerability. It lingered in his eyes. I had a choice: either see this how this played out or leave never knowing. “I’ll stay.”

I had no clue if he needed more time to come up with a reason, or if he simply didn’t want to let things get too complicated before I had my interview for the CFO position. Either way, I was a too exhausted to ask him any more questions on a subject he himself didn’t seem ready to address. “Okay. I’m going to take a shower and sleep till noon.” That would give me a few hours.

He stepped closer, laying a hand on the side of my face. “Sleep well.”

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