Page 10 of Sold To My Ex's Dad

Chapter 6

Allie

The moment Patrick opens the door to his place, it's like stepping into one of those daydreams I've had a million times—a Brooklyn brownstone straight out of a fairy tale, with its elegant charm and whispered tales of a life I've always wanted but never quite believed I could have. The place is stunning, with warm lighting that casts a soft glow over everything, making it feel like we've stepped into our own private world.

Who is this guy?

The question flickers through my mind as I take in the high ceilings and the intriguing art that adorns the walls. But the question dissolves as quickly as it appears because, in the next moment, Patrick's pulling me into him, and his lips find mine in a kiss that causes all rational thought to flee.

Patrick is a revelation. His body against mine feels solid and reassuring, the kind of presence that says without words that I'm safe in his arms. His taste is intoxicating, making me want to dive deeper and deeper.

His hands are everywhere, strong and gentle all at once. They map a path across my back and pull me closer until there's no space left between us. The kiss deepens and grows more urgent, as if we're both trying to communicate what we're feeling without breaking away to speak.

It's a rush of emotion and sensation that leaves me dizzy, my heart pounding in a way that says this is something special.

As we finally come up for air, I find myself caught in his gaze, and there's a vulnerability there that matches my own. Wrapped up in Patrick's arms in the middle of his beautiful home, everything else fades away. The questions, the doubts, the wondering about who he is—they all seem trivial compared to the connection between us.

This intensity is overwhelming and a little bit scary, but as I look up at him, I realize I wouldn't want to be anywhere else.

Catching our breath, the air between Patrick and me sparkles with an unspoken need. "You lead the way, or I might get lost in this mansion," I tease, trying to sound nonchalant despite being utterly captivated by the sophistication surrounding us.

Patrick's grin in response is all kinds of dangerous. "Getting lost could be the most exciting part of your night," he shoots back, his voice laced with promise.

"Oh, is that so?" I quip, matching his playful tone while my mind races ahead to what the night might hold. "And here I thought the evening couldn't get any more thrilling."

As Patrick begins to lead me up the stairs, I catch a glimpse of his kitchen through an open door, and it stops me mid-step. It's large and stunning—like something straight out of a high-end restaurant. Gleaming stainless steel appliances, an industrial-sized fridge, sprawling counters that never end, and an island that could easily seat a dozen.

It seems almost excessive, even for a rich executive chef. The sight leaves me momentarily awestruck, and my curiosity is piqued about the man leading me upstairs.

As we begin our slow advance toward his room, it's clear neither of us is in a hurry. Each step is punctuated by lingering touches and smoldering glances. Our clothes start to trail behind us, an urgency building with every moment we're together.

Reaching the landing, Patrick turns to me under the soft lighting, and the sight nearly steals my breath away. The play of shadows across his chest and arms highlights every muscle, every curve, and my fingers itch to explore.

Noticing my gaze, he raises an eyebrow, a mix of amusement and challenge in his eyes. "Like what you see?" he asks, his voice a low rumble that reverberates straight to my core.

"Absolutely," I admit without a shred of embarrassment, letting my eyes roam appreciatively. "The architecture in here is simply stunning."

Patrick laughs. It’s a sound that wraps around me, warm and inviting. "Glad you approve," he says, pulling me close once again. "But just wait until you see the bedroom."

His skin feels smooth and inviting under my fingertips, and I can't resist the urge to let my roam a bit, marveling at what I find. He's solid and real and radiates a warmth that envelops me and draws me in.

"See something else you like?" Patrick's voice is a low rumble.

I look up at him through my lashes and give him a sexy smirk. "Just admiring the view," I reply, trying to sound playful yet sincere. “A helicopter ride over the city’s got nothing on this.”

He chuckles, takes my hand, and leads me into the bedroom, which is gorgeous and has a spectacular view of the downtown skyline.

“Come here.”

I step toward him, and we begin to kiss, slow and sexy at first, then with more fire. He lifts my shirt, softly caressing my skin before raising it up and over my head and tossing it on the floor. I reach for his buttons, eagerly undoing each one before pushing his shirt off his shoulders, allowing it to fall behind him. I take a moment away from the kiss to run my hands over his strong, chiseled chest.

He pulls at my jeans before taking off his belt, hinting for me to take them off. Our mouths return to one another’s, searching and seeking, devouring. He places his hands on my hips and pulls me against him. We’re both in nothing but our underwear, Patrick’s hardness straining the fabric of his boxer briefs. I can’t believe how quickly I’m moving with him and how much I want him.

He kisses me long and deep, his cock pressed against my stomach, moans pouring from my lips as I savor the sensation of his body against mine. Without thinking, I reach down under his waistband and take hold of his hardness.

He’s long and thick and feels perfect in my grasp. I stroke him slowly, a growl sounding from the base of his throat as I tease him. His hands reach around, settling on my ass, squeezing it firmly.

I stroke him faster, wanting to hear more of those sexy growls, and part of me wants him to erupt in my hand, all over my belly. But when his thumbs slip underneath the waistband of my panties and begin inching them down, I know he’s got other things on his mind.

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