Rubbing my hand over my stinging butt cheek, I turn and glare at him. “Not looking good for you already, Mr. Stone.”
His eyes darken. “Call me that again and the only thing looking good will be you lying back on my desk completely naked.”
I put my boots on, fighting my smile, and he unlocks the door. I stop in the doorway and glance up at him. “Is that a promise, Mr. Stone?”
“Dayton,” he growls, and I laugh, walking into the reception area. He grasps me round the waist and steers me into the elevator, waving to his receptionist, who looks on, still bewildered. Poor woman.
When the elevator doors close, I lean up and whisper in his ear, “I can play dirty, too.”
“And if I wasn’t trying to behave, I’d have this elevator stopped and you against the wall so I could f**k you senseless.”
My breath catches when he pulls me to his body.
“I play more than dirty, sweetheart. I play downright filthy.” He presses a chaste kiss to my lips. “And if you keep playing dirty, I’m not promising I’ll be able to behave for very long.”
“Behaving is overrated,” I mutter.
“You would know,” he responds with more than a little amusement and leads me out of the elevator.
Through the glass walls of the reception, I see a black car pull up. The door is opened as soon as we step foot outside, and Aaron motions for me to get in.
“Efficient.” I slide in, and he folds himself in after me.
“I’m the boss.” He flashes me a grin like that explains everything.
Actually, it does.
“Where are we going?” I shift in my seat, and Aaron looks at me.
“To my apartment.”
***
This place is a bachelor pad. For real.
From the wood-paneled walls and U-shaped sofa in the living room, complete with wall-mounted TV, to the home bar with an empty whisky glass on. The colors are all neutral with the exception of the sofa, which is a dusky orange color. A half-full bookcase curves around the back of the sofa, and my eyes flick to it more than once.
Since I realized I really don’t know much about Aaron, I’ve been filled with a burning desire to know more about him as the man he is. Something which has only intensified since I walked through his door five minutes ago.
“This is my office.” He pushes a door open and ushers me into the room.
A desk runs wall to wall beneath the window that overlooks the Seattle skyline, and a cream sofa is pushed against the wall opposite another television. Piles of paperwork and folders are stacked on the desk, and a shining chrome laptop sits closed in front of the chair. A large mirror covers the wall behind me, and I look at Aaron.
“Why do you have a mirror in your office?”
He shrugs. “The interior designer put it in, so I went with it.”
We leave the room, and he takes my hand.
“How long have you had this place?”
“About a year or so. The main office is in New York, as you know, but I was constantly flying between here and there. It made sense to buy somewhere instead of staying in a hotel each time.” His eyes find mine when we stop. “I’m very glad of that decision now.”
“Oh yes. Imagine having to take me back to your hotel to seduce me.” I roll my eyes, and he laughs quietly.
“I seem to remember you saying you don’t get seduced.”
“You ought to remember it, Mr. Stone.”
His eyes darken, and he pushes open another door. “And my bedroom.”
Ah. There are more wood-paneled walls in here, and they’re broken by dark brown quilting on the wall above the king-sized bed. A TV is built into the wall in front of the bed, and a side door is open, revealing a large walk-in closet.
I pull my hand from Aaron’s and walk to it, sticking my head through the door. Rows of perfectly pressed shirts are hanging alongside a range of tailored jackets, and a rack of ties is attached to the wall. Various pairs of shoes are lined beneath the shirts and jackets, and there’s floor-to-ceiling shelving that holds all his pants and every day t-shirts.
“Someone’s inquisitive today.” Aaron stands behind me, his hand resting on the doorframe above mine.
“You can tell a lot about someone by their closet.”
“Is that so? What does mine tell you?”
“It tells me your suit-to-everyday ratio is way off, which means you either work too much or you simply have no idea about fashion.”
His chest vibrates against my back as he laughs. “Anything else?”
“Yes. It tells me you don’t have the closet space for even half of my wardrobe.”
“Warming to the idea of a move, are you?”
“No. Believe me, no.” I spin and look up at him. “Just gathering another reason against it for when it inevitably comes up again in conversation.”
His lips tease into a small smile. “We’ll see.”
I duck under his arm and walk out of the bedroom. “Your apartment is really boring, isn’t it?”
“Nice of you to notice.”
His tone is dry, and I grin at him. “No, really. It is. It’s also very manly. So, yes. Boring is the perfect word. I hope you didn’t pay the designer much.”
“A fortune.”
“You were ripped off.” I open every door in the hallway, my eyes skimming over the huge claw-footed tub and double shower unit in the main bathroom, until I reach a cupboard. It’s full of fluffy towels and sheets, and I rummage through them a bit.
“What are you doing?”
“Looking for skeletons.” I glance at him over my shoulder. “Just in case there are a few more hanging around I should know about.”
I almost feel guilty at the sadness that fills his eyes. Almost.
“What? Did you think I wasn’t mad at you anymore? I am. I’m still fuming. A string of promises and soft words followed by a cozy home tour isn’t going to change that.”
He shuts the door and takes a deep breath. “There are no more, Dayton. Naomi was my one and only, very ugly skeleton. If there’s anything you want to know, you can ask. I’m an open book now.”
I chew the inside of my lip and search his eyes. The pained shadow hits me hard. Jesus. I’m a real bitch sometimes. “I’m sorry. That was uncalled for.”
“No, no, it wasn’t.” He brushes his thumb across my cheek. “I deserve everything you can throw at me and more. I know you don’t trust me. I can see it in your eyes.”