“It’s huge.”
Yes, it was. His apartment was large compared to other apartments in New York City, and the largest in the building. He liked having lots of space. It made him feel free. He’d spent a lot of time finding this place, but when he finally had, he’d immediately known that he’d never give it up.
“Come, I’ll give you the grand tour of your new home.”
Sabrina lifted her eyes to meet his, affection shining from them. “Our,” she corrected him, her voice as soft as the trickle of a mountain creek.
He laced his fingers with hers. “Yes, our.” He pressed a soft kiss on her lips, then tugged on her hand. “This is the living and dining room.” He pointed to the large room with the floor-to-ceiling windows that boasted a stunning view over Central Park.
“The view is amazing!” Sabrina exclaimed as she walked closer to the windows. “And there’s so much light.”
“We’re facing East, so we’ll get the sun in this room in the morning.” He pointed to the dining table. “I normally eat my breakfast in the kitchen, but now that you’re here, I think it’ll be nice to use the dining table and enjoy the morning sun.”
She smiled and squeezed him. “I’d like that.” She pointed to an archway. “Is the kitchen through there?”
“Yes,” he replied and led her into it.
“Oh my god, that’s like a full professional kitchen,” she said, her mouth gaping open as she touched the pristine counters and the six-burner stove.
“You like it?”
Pride swelled in his chest as he noticed her eyes drinking in her surroundings.
“If there’s anything you don’t like, we can change it. I want you to feel at home here.”
She turned to him, putting a finger on his lips. “It’s perfect. I couldn’t imagine a better kitchen. You must give a lot of dinner parties here.”
He chuckled. “Actually, no. I’m not much of a cook. I normally go out.”
“Oh, what a waste!”
“How about you? Do you cook? I guess I’ve never asked.”
She winked at him. “I know how to roll out a mean pizza dough.”
Instantly reminded of the evening they’d spent at Tante Marie’s cooking school in San Francisco, he pulled her to him. “Oh, yes, I remember. And I also remember that I was going to lay you flat over that kitchen counter to flatten the dough with you.”
Her eyes sparkled. “Which of course you couldn’t do since we weren’t alone.”
He growled. When Sabrina teased him like that, he couldn’t help turning all primal and possessive. “Yes, but luckily we got some privacy later.”
Just thinking about how he’d bent her over a railing surrounding a small tucked-away view area and taken her from behind, made blood shoot to his groin.
Sabrina licked her lips, one hand sliding down his torso. “I remember. You were very impatient and couldn’t wait to get inside me.”
Daniel felt his breathing accelerate. “Yes, and if you continue talking in that husky, seductive voice of yours, then you’re going to find yourself bent over the kitchen island in a few moments, and me ripping your panties off and repeating the incident.”
“Hmmm,” she hummed and slid her hand lower. Her warm palm moved over his erection. “Maybe you should do exactly that. You know, teach me that I can’t provoke you like that without expecting consequences.”
She squeezed his hard-on, and he groaned in response.
“And the tour of the apartment?” he asked.
“Later.” Her one-word answer was a seductive whisper, and he had no defenses against it.
“Then lose those panties,” he ordered and watched her step out of them, dropping them onto the counter.
At the same time, he opened the button of his pants, then slowly lowered the zipper, feeling his erection push outward. He hadn’t exactly planned on christening the kitchen with Sabrina, but he’d never said no to her yet, and he wasn’t going to start now. He counted himself a lucky guy that Sabrina wanted him, and there was no way he’d ever turn her down.
He was about to pull his pants and boxer briefs down to free his cock, when his cell phone rang.
“Christ!” he cursed and shoved his hand into his jacket pocket.
He pulled the phone out, casting Sabrina an apologetic look as he recognized the number. “Sorry, baby, just a sec.”
Then he answered the call. “Frances?”
“Mr. Sinclair. Welcome back,” his executive assistant greeted him. She was the most efficient and effective assistant he’d ever had, despite the fact that she’d only been with him for a year.
Yes, it was. His apartment was large compared to other apartments in New York City, and the largest in the building. He liked having lots of space. It made him feel free. He’d spent a lot of time finding this place, but when he finally had, he’d immediately known that he’d never give it up.
“Come, I’ll give you the grand tour of your new home.”
Sabrina lifted her eyes to meet his, affection shining from them. “Our,” she corrected him, her voice as soft as the trickle of a mountain creek.
He laced his fingers with hers. “Yes, our.” He pressed a soft kiss on her lips, then tugged on her hand. “This is the living and dining room.” He pointed to the large room with the floor-to-ceiling windows that boasted a stunning view over Central Park.
“The view is amazing!” Sabrina exclaimed as she walked closer to the windows. “And there’s so much light.”
“We’re facing East, so we’ll get the sun in this room in the morning.” He pointed to the dining table. “I normally eat my breakfast in the kitchen, but now that you’re here, I think it’ll be nice to use the dining table and enjoy the morning sun.”
She smiled and squeezed him. “I’d like that.” She pointed to an archway. “Is the kitchen through there?”
“Yes,” he replied and led her into it.
“Oh my god, that’s like a full professional kitchen,” she said, her mouth gaping open as she touched the pristine counters and the six-burner stove.
“You like it?”
Pride swelled in his chest as he noticed her eyes drinking in her surroundings.
“If there’s anything you don’t like, we can change it. I want you to feel at home here.”
She turned to him, putting a finger on his lips. “It’s perfect. I couldn’t imagine a better kitchen. You must give a lot of dinner parties here.”
He chuckled. “Actually, no. I’m not much of a cook. I normally go out.”
“Oh, what a waste!”
“How about you? Do you cook? I guess I’ve never asked.”
She winked at him. “I know how to roll out a mean pizza dough.”
Instantly reminded of the evening they’d spent at Tante Marie’s cooking school in San Francisco, he pulled her to him. “Oh, yes, I remember. And I also remember that I was going to lay you flat over that kitchen counter to flatten the dough with you.”
Her eyes sparkled. “Which of course you couldn’t do since we weren’t alone.”
He growled. When Sabrina teased him like that, he couldn’t help turning all primal and possessive. “Yes, but luckily we got some privacy later.”
Just thinking about how he’d bent her over a railing surrounding a small tucked-away view area and taken her from behind, made blood shoot to his groin.
Sabrina licked her lips, one hand sliding down his torso. “I remember. You were very impatient and couldn’t wait to get inside me.”
Daniel felt his breathing accelerate. “Yes, and if you continue talking in that husky, seductive voice of yours, then you’re going to find yourself bent over the kitchen island in a few moments, and me ripping your panties off and repeating the incident.”
“Hmmm,” she hummed and slid her hand lower. Her warm palm moved over his erection. “Maybe you should do exactly that. You know, teach me that I can’t provoke you like that without expecting consequences.”
She squeezed his hard-on, and he groaned in response.
“And the tour of the apartment?” he asked.
“Later.” Her one-word answer was a seductive whisper, and he had no defenses against it.
“Then lose those panties,” he ordered and watched her step out of them, dropping them onto the counter.
At the same time, he opened the button of his pants, then slowly lowered the zipper, feeling his erection push outward. He hadn’t exactly planned on christening the kitchen with Sabrina, but he’d never said no to her yet, and he wasn’t going to start now. He counted himself a lucky guy that Sabrina wanted him, and there was no way he’d ever turn her down.
He was about to pull his pants and boxer briefs down to free his cock, when his cell phone rang.
“Christ!” he cursed and shoved his hand into his jacket pocket.
He pulled the phone out, casting Sabrina an apologetic look as he recognized the number. “Sorry, baby, just a sec.”
Then he answered the call. “Frances?”
“Mr. Sinclair. Welcome back,” his executive assistant greeted him. She was the most efficient and effective assistant he’d ever had, despite the fact that she’d only been with him for a year.
