Page 57 of Seven Nights

I know how I would like to fill it. The more she drifts out of reach, the more I want her dripping, submissive, naked, tied to my bed, filled with my cock, the red cherry nipples clamped, skin flushed, her body shaking as non-stop moans vibrate up from her throat.

Maybe we both need that. It wasn’t my gentle consideration that had Kate wet and ready to fuck me that first day in the limo. Maybe she only thinks she wants me spilling my guts.

When I do—she’ll walk. I will no longer be the man who dominated her sweet pussy.

I will be a caricature.

The faux Dom pretending to be in control.

A knock sounds at the penthouse door. I jerk forward. The scotch splashes onto the rug beneath my feet.

That it is almost midnight doesn’t matter—the fucking lack of security does. No one should be able to knock on my door without the guard at the front desk turning off the electronic lock on the elevator. That is not supposed to happen without the guard checking with me.

I grab my phone and call up the video feed. The first camera shows the top of a very feminine head. Dark brown hair flows across proud shoulders. The second camera is sighted from a position above the elevator doors. Definitely a female. She wears a black raincoat cinched tight to shapely contours.

Directing the camera down, I see bare, toned legs disappearing into spice red suede pumps. She is shaking. I lick my lips in hunger and toss the phone onto the couch. Barefoot, I race toward the entry room, throw the locks and open the door.

Still trembling, she slowly lifts her gaze from the floor to my face.

“Kate…” I stare, wondering if I fell asleep on the couch and her visit is only a dream. I immediately dismiss the notion. She would already be naked if this were a dream. Naked, with her runner’s legs wrapped around my hips and the luscious breasts pressed against my face as she rides my cock.

Reaching out, I pull Kate across the threshold and into my arms. I kiss the top of her head and try not to squeeze too hard.

“I thought something was wrong.”

“No.” She curls her hands against my chest. “The guard said I was on your full access list, so he unlocked the elevator.”

I stroke the underside of Katelyn’s chin, drawing her gaze up to my face. “I meant the end of our call. It was—abrupt.”

Closing her eyes, she nods as a light pink flushes her cheeks.

My stomach tightens. If I messed up, why is she here?

How is she here?

I mean, I understand the mechanics. Plane, train or automobile. But she didn’t say anything about leaving Detroit. How long has she been in Chicago? Why? When does she plan on returning?

And why, if I fucked up yet again, is she in this sleek black raincoat wearing the spice-colored pumps she had so carefully selected for our first meeting?

“Tell me what’s wrong.” Fighting the impulse to strip the coat from her, I choke out the order. “Tell me so I can fix it.”

The little snort she gives as she opens her eyes is a gut punch.

“Can’t fix stupid,” she whispers.

A fat tear slides down her cheek. It’s worse than the snort. Right now I feel like she just reached into my chest and pulled my heart out.

I tighten my grip on her.

“Love, I can change.”

At least I hope I can. If not for Katelyn, then for no one.

Another shake of her head follows the declaration. So do more tears.

Pressing my lips together, I fight the urge to play the Dom, to be the mega-asshole. There is something I’ve done that she cannot move on from—Amanda, the faked indifference, my luring her to the Detroit office to throw more money at her. Whatever it is, there can be no remedy until she tells me. If she doesn’t tell me, I will lose her.

Permanently.

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