Page 53 of One Night with Cinderella

“Up to where, exactly?” Monica asked, brushing her hair back from her face as she looked around at the modern design of the lobby.

The uniformed concierge gave them a welcoming smile and nod.

“My apartment,” he finally said as they reached the set of four elevators.

She paused.

He looked at her as he pushed the button. Her expression was guarded. “What’s wrong?” he asked as she took the final step to be back at his side.

As the doors slid open and they stepped onto the lift, she forced a smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes. He reached for her hand and stroked her palm with his thumb as he used his free hand to press the button for the twenty-fourth floor. “What’s wrong, Monica?” he repeated.

She shook her head and released his hand to wrap her arms around his waist. “Not a thing, Gabriel,” she said, saying his name teasingly as she raised her face to press a kiss to his chin. “Congratulations on your new apartment.”

He smiled, but he felt his own unease.

After the elevator came to a smooth stop and as they made their way to the apartment, he eyed her. He had come to know Monica well, and when something worried her, she became distant and quiet. Getting her to open up about it seemed to make her withdraw even more.

“This is nice, Gabe,” she said, removing her coat as she moved about the furnished, two-thousand-square-foot space in the Midtown Park Avenue South building. “I didn’t know you were even looking to move out from your parents’.”

He eyed her as he dropped his bag on the sectional sofa, removed his overcoat and kicked off his shoes. “It was time.”

Which was on her mind? That I moved or that I didn’t tell her?

Monica looked over her shoulder at him as he joined her at the floor-to-ceiling windows, which were offering a spectacular view of the city landscape at night. “Are things worse with your family?” she asked.

“They’ll come around,” he said, dipping his head to press a kiss to her throat before he moved over to the electric fireplace to light it.

“I hope so,” she said, crossing the wide-plank wood floors to stand beside him before the fire. “The last thing I want for you is to ever know what it feels like to not have family, Gabe.”

He thought of the childhood she rarely spoke of and felt regret that her upbringing had been bleak at times. She wrapped her arms around him, and he looked down at her as she looked up at him. Her eyes were soft, and the flames of the fire flicked in their depths. She gave him the hint of a smile as she eased her hands under his sweater and massaged his lower back, evoking goose bumps across his skin.

Gabe felt breathless, and something profound and deep clutched at his chest as he let his eyes take in every aspect of her face. Missing nothing. Captivated by it all.

Their kisses began as light touches of their lips as they stared at one another almost playfully. They tasted of one another with deep, guttural moans of pleasure. Slowly they undressed each other, illuminated by the fire’s light as night darkened their surroundings.

Gabe lifted her body up and she wrapped her arms and legs around him as he hotly licked at her mouth. The feel of her softness against him and the scent of her—that heady mix of sweet perfume and woman—lengthened his inches with hardness that rose up against her buttocks.

Monica leaned back enough to look down at him. She kissed him. Softly. With a tempting smile that he knew he would never forget, she stroked the back of his head before guiding his mouth to her breasts. With a grunt, he latched on and deeply sucked her nipple as he pressed his face into the softness and gripped her hips to guide her downward. The first feel of her heat and wetness against his tip caused him to hiss, in that hot little moment before she arched her hips to take all of him inside her.

They gasped and clung to one another.

He fought for control, not wanting his pleasure at the very feel of her intimacy gripping him to push him to a speedy end. And when she began to slowly circle her hips, sending her core up and down the length of him, he bent one leg and reached out to press one hand against the wall—looking for help to keep them from losing balance as he felt lost in a haze of passion and desire.

No words were spoken. Just panted breaths and deep gasps echoed as sweat coated their bodies from the heat of lovemaking and the fireplace. He was lost. Gone. She used her muscles to grip and release his tool as she rode him. With his free hand, he gripped her buttock as he licked and sucked at her breasts, loving each tremble and purr of pleasure he drew from her. He felt her climax nearing and took control, turning to drop them down onto the sofa, then arched his back and drove his hardness inside with swiftness and depth until soon they both cried out with a roughness that only hinted at the wildness they felt as they climaxed together.

And long after their cries subsided, their pulses slowed and the sweet addictive haze of climaxing died down, she lay atop him on the couch. His knees were bent and open as he listened to her long breaths as she slept. He turned his head to cast his gaze on the fire as he thought of that moment earlier when he had felt something profound for Monica. The captivation. The warmth spreading across his chest. Breathlessness.

He closed his eyes and clenched his jaw as he pushed away the memory and everything it could mean. A hint of feelings he was not ready to accept.

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