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Authors: Sabrina Darby
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there.
The floor-to-ceiling glass window offered a stunning view of Boston, not so different from the one visible from Daniel’s office. Even when my father had been a rich man himself, he had never worked out of a skyscraper. He’d preferred a SoHo brownstone, visiting the main office only when necessary. I’d never wondered about that before, about his working halfway across town from his business partner. Hartmann had been the one with the midtown offices, the fancy reception area and the views. Maybe there had been some strife there before Hartmann’s death. Maybe it
had
had to do with Daniel’s mother.
But my father wouldn’t talk about the past and I was strangely reluctant to bring it up with Daniel, even though the past was the very reason I was here.
Now Daniel Hartmann wanted to expand his business globally. What did that even mean? A skyscraper overlooking the world? A view of skylines in Istanbul or Dubai? Or something fantastical and futuristic?
I wasn’t entirely sure if I’d heard him or sensed him first but then I felt him, wrapping himself around me, brushing my hair aside to kiss my neck.
“You,” Daniel said, interspersed between kisses, and between the insistent motions of his hands pulling my skirt up, “knew I had a meeting.”
“Yes,” I admitted, reaching back to caress him, to unfasten his pants.
“Which, technically, I am still in the middle of.” He pulled my hips back slightly, away from the wall. I rested my hands on the glass, gasping both at the thinness of it separating me from a thirty-story drop and at the touch of his fingers. He slipped my thong down my thighs. Thighs I parted more even as I arched my back.
“You left your client upstairs?”
“Yes,” he said, thrusting into me. I bent my head, my forehead resting against the glass. It was exquisite, earthy and breathtaking all at once, with the view before me and the strength of him filling me, pushing me forward.
“Daniel?” I looked back over my shoulder toward him. “Why did you settle in Boston?”
For a moment he was silent, and the movements of his body as he slid forward and back felt full with tension. I regretted asking anything in the middle of sex, of creating any sort of distance. But then his mouth lowered to my ear, his breath teasing my skin.
“So I could do this,” he said softly, “Right here, right now, with that view beneath us.” I pushed back against him, silent but for my moans. He had avoided answering but that was all right, part of the unspoken agreement to keep things light.
But then he slid out, and the scent of me, him, latex, was heavy in the air. I didn’t move, gasping. Feeling the loss and terrified that I’d broken something.
“Turn around,” he commanded softly. He knelt down and I followed.
On the floor, he thrust back into me, his face buried against the curve of my shoulder. I gloried in the fullness, in the feel of his body between my legs and inside of me. He was mine for just a little longer. I lifted a hand and wrapped it around his neck, curving around the base of his head, something like tenderness in that touch.
• • •
Standing in front of the elevator bank, feeling languid and rumpled, I pressed myself to him, arms draped over his shoulders. He’d come when I called. It made me want him even more—something I’d have to analyze later, much later, as if I could ever turn off the ridiculous analyzing machine of my brain.
“Now I’m going to have to think up some reason for leaving him for fifteen minutes.”
“And for looking a bit less pressed than you did before,” I teased.
“Yes, exactly.” He laughed, but I thought I heard an edge to that. “I didn’t build my reputation on lies.”
Didn’t you?
The response stopped at the barrier of my lips and I let the silence stand. It was so easy for me to forget who he really was.
“So why don’t you tell him then that the marketing department needed you,” I said instead,
The floor-to-ceiling glass window offered a stunning view of Boston, not so different from the one visible from Daniel’s office. Even when my father had been a rich man himself, he had never worked out of a skyscraper. He’d preferred a SoHo brownstone, visiting the main office only when necessary. I’d never wondered about that before, about his working halfway across town from his business partner. Hartmann had been the one with the midtown offices, the fancy reception area and the views. Maybe there had been some strife there before Hartmann’s death. Maybe it
had
had to do with Daniel’s mother.
But my father wouldn’t talk about the past and I was strangely reluctant to bring it up with Daniel, even though the past was the very reason I was here.
Now Daniel Hartmann wanted to expand his business globally. What did that even mean? A skyscraper overlooking the world? A view of skylines in Istanbul or Dubai? Or something fantastical and futuristic?
I wasn’t entirely sure if I’d heard him or sensed him first but then I felt him, wrapping himself around me, brushing my hair aside to kiss my neck.
“You,” Daniel said, interspersed between kisses, and between the insistent motions of his hands pulling my skirt up, “knew I had a meeting.”
“Yes,” I admitted, reaching back to caress him, to unfasten his pants.
“Which, technically, I am still in the middle of.” He pulled my hips back slightly, away from the wall. I rested my hands on the glass, gasping both at the thinness of it separating me from a thirty-story drop and at the touch of his fingers. He slipped my thong down my thighs. Thighs I parted more even as I arched my back.
“You left your client upstairs?”
“Yes,” he said, thrusting into me. I bent my head, my forehead resting against the glass. It was exquisite, earthy and breathtaking all at once, with the view before me and the strength of him filling me, pushing me forward.
“Daniel?” I looked back over my shoulder toward him. “Why did you settle in Boston?”
For a moment he was silent, and the movements of his body as he slid forward and back felt full with tension. I regretted asking anything in the middle of sex, of creating any sort of distance. But then his mouth lowered to my ear, his breath teasing my skin.
“So I could do this,” he said softly, “Right here, right now, with that view beneath us.” I pushed back against him, silent but for my moans. He had avoided answering but that was all right, part of the unspoken agreement to keep things light.
But then he slid out, and the scent of me, him, latex, was heavy in the air. I didn’t move, gasping. Feeling the loss and terrified that I’d broken something.
“Turn around,” he commanded softly. He knelt down and I followed.
On the floor, he thrust back into me, his face buried against the curve of my shoulder. I gloried in the fullness, in the feel of his body between my legs and inside of me. He was mine for just a little longer. I lifted a hand and wrapped it around his neck, curving around the base of his head, something like tenderness in that touch.
• • •
Standing in front of the elevator bank, feeling languid and rumpled, I pressed myself to him, arms draped over his shoulders. He’d come when I called. It made me want him even more—something I’d have to analyze later, much later, as if I could ever turn off the ridiculous analyzing machine of my brain.
“Now I’m going to have to think up some reason for leaving him for fifteen minutes.”
“And for looking a bit less pressed than you did before,” I teased.
“Yes, exactly.” He laughed, but I thought I heard an edge to that. “I didn’t build my reputation on lies.”
Didn’t you?
The response stopped at the barrier of my lips and I let the silence stand. It was so easy for me to forget who he really was.
“So why don’t you tell him then that the marketing department needed you,” I said instead,
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