The Two Week Arrangement (Penthouse Affair, #1) novel Chapter 31

Presley

“I think I needed this.” Dominic digs a spoon into the oval-shaped dish of lavender crème brûlée.

“The dessert? It is pretty amazing,” I reply with a grin before I spoon another bite into my mouth.

Looking dead serious, he says, “No, a night off with you.”

A wash of giddy delight hits me. The hyper-disciplined CEO who always plays his cards close to the vest not only likes me, but is being open about it. Though he does also tend to be bold and blunt, so maybe I shouldn’t be so surprised.

Still, the admission catches me off guard, leaving me feeling almost shy. On cloud nine, mind you, but a little shy all the same. This man is so far out of my league and sexy as all get-out. It’s a little disorienting. I shouldn’t feel so weak. I shouldn’t ache for his hard-won crooked smiles, but I do.

Tonight we’ve feasted on roasted fish, had one too many glasses of an amazing French wine, and enjoyed casual conversation and laughter. And the best part has been knowing that we aren’t putting on a show for anyone. Now I know for sure that Dominic really does care about me, and he isn’t just pretending for the sake of keeping up appearances with Roger or getting into my pants. Although I definitely do want him in my pants, too.

Grinning, I reply, “Tonight’s been really fun.” I haven’t realized until now just how much I missed talking with Dominic so casually. “It means a lot to hear you missed me, too.”

“I won’t fuck this up again,” he says solemnly. He takes my hand, rubbing his thumb across my knuckles, and although the touch is affectionate rather than sexual, it still makes my stomach do a little flip. Then he adds, “Not to say the dessert isn’t delicious.”

“Mmm . . . I agree.” I scrape up the last decadent bite and heave a sigh of mixed delight and disappointment that it’s all gone. “That might have been the best thing I’ve ever tasted.”

“But I’m still hungry.” Suddenly Dominic’s gaze turns smoldering—and I’m caught right in the middle of its fire. “I want to take you home,” he whispers, his voice dark.

I shiver with eagerness. “God, I want that, too. So bad.”

“But . . .” His wolfish expression sobers for a moment. “We should make sure we’re on the same page first.”

“About what?”