Page 9 of Greed

“What will I give you?” I ask without thinking.

“The only thing I want right now. The one thing I’m craving. You.”

His words ring in my ears, heating my body from the inside out.

It’s reckless. It’s spontaneous, and unlike anything I’ve ever done before, but I lower the phone slightly and catch the driver’s gaze one last time in the rearview mirror as the Williamsburg Bridge looms in the distance. “Turn the car around, Rygar. Take me back to him.”

CHAPTERFIVE

Abby

When he swings openthe door to his apartment, I expect to find him wearing something other than the tux, but the only thing he’s lost since I last saw him is the bowtie that was wrapped around his neck.

Declan Wells is holding a glass tumbler in his hand. There’s a small amount of amber liquid in it and some ice. He brings it to his lips, taking in the last of the alcohol before an ice cube slides into his mouth.

He bites it as his gaze drops to the ridiculous gown I’m still wearing. “I’m aching for you, Abigail.”

I glance at the front of his pants, and the evidence is clear. He’s as hard as stone, and judging from the bulge beneath the fabric, the man is well endowed.

I want to tell him I’m aching too, but my words are all caught behind a lump in my throat. In the car, I felt emboldened when I agreed to circle back here to get into his bed.

Now, I wonder if I’ll walk out of here as the same woman who walked in.

Declan is the type of man a woman never forgets.

“Come in.” He motions for me to enter his apartment.

I can already tell it’s the most breathtaking property I’ve ever stepped foot in. This is where a person lives if their wealth rivals that of only a few dozen other people in Manhattan.

I walk in and head straight across the room. I’m inexplicably drawn toward two windows complete with padded window seats. They border a dark wood bookcase. This is what interior design dreams are made of.

As soon as I reach one of the windows, I lean forward and glance out because I sense that when we say goodbye hours from now, the view of the city will be the last thing on my mind.

It’s dark, but there’s no mistaking that Central Park is a sight to behold as it’s laid out before us.

“This is incredible,” I whisper.

“It’s even better during the day,” Declan says from next to me.

I turn and look up at his face. “It’s nicer then?”

“You’ll judge for yourself in the morning.”

I perk an eyebrow. “Who said I was staying until the morning?”

“You are,” he says decisively. “You want to.”

Normally, an arrogant attitude like that would send me running away from the man who possesses it, but my traitorous body leans closer to Declan.

He takes that as an invitation. His fingertips run a slow path down my bicep. “Take off your shoes, Abby.”

I’ve been longing for that all night. Try as I might, I can’t slide my feet out of the ridiculously hard resin shoes.

I start to bend down to tug them off, but Declan is on a knee before I can get there. I stare down at him as he tenderly lifts each of my feet before tugging the shoes loose.

A sigh of relief escapes me.

When he glances up, a soft smile settles on his lips. “That feels good, doesn’t it?”

---