Dalton
“He’s an ass,” I explain, gesturing toward the direction Randy retreated.
“Okay,” she replies, her eyes wide with expectation. “Thanks?” It’s obvious she’s wondering why the hell I’m back. That makes two of us.
“Give your sister a heads-up.” I’m telling myself I’m doing a public service. Yeah, I want to fuck her, but that doesn’t mean she won’t benefit from a reality check. “She should start looking for a new place to live.”
“She has a place.” Penny gestures inside the apartment as though she’s talking to someone who needs visual aids to understand. The movement sends her tits jiggling beneath her cotton nightshirt and I wonder if every woman looks this sexy in pajamas or if it’s just her. The idea that it might be just her is scary as all hell. “Thanks for your concern,” she says, clearly not meaning it.
Shit, she’s about to close the door. “How long will she be gone?”
Penny’s eyes narrow as if I asked her for her social security number and her mother’s maiden name.
“If it’s more than a week, she won’t have a place by the time she gets back.”
“Is that a threat?”
“It’s a fact. This is an all-male building. It has been for decades. I get what she’s trying to do, but it’s pointless.”
“It used to be all-male. It’s not anymore.”
She’s outright glaring at me now, and it’s so fucking hot. I know women don’t like to hear it, but damn, sometimes a little fire lights a woman up. I remind myself that my presence at her door is partially a good deed. I’m not big on charity, but just because I don’t want Penny or her sister living next door doesn’t mean I want them thrown to the curb either. Finding real estate in the city is a bitch, and if she doesn’t start now, it could be a nightmare when they’re tossed out of here. “I know people with substantial real estate holdings in the city. Tell me an area she’d like to live in, and I can make it happen.”
She puts her hands on her hips which—thank you, God—strains the cloth of her nightshirt over her excited nipples. That’s a good sign. She may not like me, but she wants to fuck me. We’re making progress. “There’s no good way to say this. No woman has ever lived in this building. No woman will ever live in this building.”
“Wow. Personally, I can’t imagine a woman wanting to. You’re a clear example of what happens when testosterone goes unchecked. However, my sister is brilliant. I’ve seen her stack of legal documents and the notarized lease agreement that tells a different story. She won’t get thrown out.”
If I gave a shit about anyone, I’d actually feel a little sorry for Penny. “Do you know who lives here?” There are over a dozen high-powered lawyers, one judge, the sons of three powerful politicians, and those are just the beginning of the resistance. “Your sister could have signed her name on the constitution, and they’d nullify it. She needs to look for a new place to live.”
“And you need to—” The smoke alarm in her apartment starts to blare. This is an older building, but it’s been completely upgraded with the latest technology. “Shit, I forgot I was cooking.”
I don’t smell smoke yet, and that’s a good sign. “The alarm system is wired into the fire department. You have about sixty seconds to shut it down before they head this way and make a scene . . .”
“Damn,” she gasps, then turns on her heel, leaving the door open, and sprints back inside. It’s not an invitation, but I know how to shut the alarm down quicker than she will, so I follow her in. “Where is it? How do I turn it off?” she calls desperately over her shoulder.
“Front closet.” I pull open the door, revealing the emergency key pad and enter an override code. The siren stops. Now I smell the smoke. Whatever she had planned for dinner must be charred to shit. “I’d pull whatever you have in the oven out before this goes off again.”
Her flushed cheeks blaze a little hotter as she moves to the kitchen and wrestles on the oven mitts. I follow her because she hasn’t kicked me out, and who knows how fast we could make it from the kitchen to her bed. She opens the stove and bends to reach inside. Until that moment, I didn’t realize pajama bottoms could cling so deliciously to a woman’s ass. I lean over her and turn on the exhaust fan above the stove. She’s the perfect height to fuck from behind. It’s like it was meant to be. That’s about as close to serendipity as I’m willing to get.
“Thanks.” Penny throws a chicken breast that’s burnt to a crisp into the sink and turns the faucet on. “Kylie is going to kill me if she finds out about this. I haven’t even made it one day without almost burning the place down.”
“No reason for her to find out. There’s a delay on the alarm. No one will know unless you tell them,” I say, leaning myself against the granite counter top. This kitchen is exactly the same layout as mine, which is handy. I know the counter height is perfect for bending a woman over and fucking her from behind. The little table in the corner, what did my last hookup call it? A breakfast nook? It doubles as a foreplay playground. I imagine Penny in the chair. Then sprawled on the table. I never tire of pleasuring a woman. And I’d love to pleasure a woman like Penny.
I watch her skillfully spin her long hair into a ponytail and I think about grabbing it tightly while she deep-throats my cock. It’s a good thing women can’t read minds. My life would be one big slap fest. “Looks like you need a new dinner.”
“Yeah,” she sighs, dipping her head down in defeat as she pokes the blackened chicken with a fork.
“I’ll order something.” I don’t ask if she wants me to. I don’t ask what she likes to eat. I just grab my cell and dial the kitchen downstairs. “It’s Dalton. Send up my usual, but make it a double. Send it to 1421 instead of my apartment.”
“Ah . . . I didn’t say—”
“You’re welcome.” I know damn well she was about to protest, not thank me. “It’ll be up in a few minutes. I’d ask if you want to change into something more comfortable but I’m pretty sure fluffy cotton pajamas with pink hearts on them is about as comfortable as it gets.”
She looks down at her attire and cringes. I could have told her what I really thought of her clothes, but she’s not ready to hear it. “You should go. Please cancel that dinner order.”
I don’t argue my way into a woman’s bed. I don’t need to. This will happen eventually, even if Penny is not down for tonight. I know it won’t be long. “The code for the fire alarm is in the blue folder, in case it happens again. And have you started going through the checklist? They’re sticklers around here.”
“That damn checklist,” she growls, and my dick approves of her sexy, angered tone. Some people say they like Mexican food but order it mild. That’s not me. I like it hot. The same goes for fucking. I don’t mind an angry romp in the sack, and I’m picturing one now as she continues her rant.
“This place is absolutely insane. They want me to change out the HEPA filters in the apartment? I have to ensure my garbage meets all the standards of biodegradability? Why in the world would I need to have the window treatments and curtains no later than one week after arrival? The list goes on and on.”
“They don’t mean you have to do those things. Doesn’t your sister have an assistant or a team? I never touch a thing in my place, and it all gets done.”
“Kylie refuses to depend on anyone. She doesn’t trust people, and she’s never satisfied unless she does things herself.”
Interesting. “But you’re setting the apartment up for her?”
Penny makes a pained face. “The trip to China came out of nowhere or I wouldn’t be here.”
“So you’re not staying after she returns?” That would be a clear breach of contract. A loophole to get them out even faster. I’m not a cruel asshole. I just know damn well I can’t have a woman like this on the other side of my bedroom wall.
The outcome is inevitable, though. Neither will be here long. Kylie chose the wrong person for this task, but it’s not my fucking place to say it. Penny is too honest, too open.
“I have my own place,” she replies, jutting her chin out proudly. “Well, it’s not my own place really. It’s a studio apartment in the Art District that I share with two other girls.”
Is she trying to turn me on? Doesn’t she know that the media has been feeding men wild images of what women do when they’re together in tight quarters? What healthy male doesn’t instantly fantasize about such a place? “How do you share a studio apartment?”
“It’s a schedule. We work different shifts, and we make sure we’re never there at the same time. It’s basically like living alone except sometimes there’s a mysterious bowl of cereal in the sink.”
Not quite my X-rated version. “So staying here for several weeks must be nice for you.” I sit on the couch and cross my legs, getting comfortable.
“Not really,” she says flatly and doesn’t take a seat beside me. That’s not good. “Thank you for helping with the alarm.” There’s a finality in her voice that can’t be mistaken.
I’m being brushed off, asked to leave. That never happens. I take a moment to soak it in.
The door we left slightly ajar flies open and the kitchen staff rolls in a cart of food that looks like it’s been prepared for royalty. A vase of fresh flowers towers in the middle surrounded by my favorite tapas. It’s an eclectic mix from various regions. There’s vegan options and something for meat lovers. This is what I order when I fuck a woman so hard and so long that I feel compelled to offer her some nourishment afterward. I don’t like to ask my exhausted fuck friend what she likes to eat, so this meal closes that door. I’ve made the mistake of asking women for their favorite food. They took it as an invitation to tell me about the allergic reaction they had to some shit they ate at twelve years old. I prefer to imply rather than to state I don’t fucking care, so I keep questions to a minimum. Here’s your food. Don’t choke on it.
“Mr. Croft, should I set it here?” He looks from Penny to me, and I know what he’s thinking—I’m feeding her first. This is a change.
I shrug, not committing either way.
“There’s been a mistake,” Penny replies after a few beats. “He’ll take it next door.”
The man’s eyebrows fly to his hairline, and he turns my way. “Sir?”
If she wasn’t already running naked through my mind, I’d say she wasn’t worth this, but she’s throwing down a challenge, and it’s actually more exciting than how I’d imagined the evening going. It’s not that I don’t want to stay; if all I wanted was a quick fuck, I could get it downstairs. This is a game I’m ready to play.
“Leave the food but bill me.” I stand and smile as he nods and leaves.
Penny walks to the door and holds it open. “Thanks again,” she says but hardly looks convincing.
I cock an eyebrow at her and grin in that way that usually pulls a woman to me from across a crowded bar. “Anytime, Penny.” She resists my charm, but I can tell it’s with a good amount of effort. I walk to the door, stopping in front of her. Damn, does she know how potent she is? She must.
“If you need me, you know where I am.” I step out of her apartment, still with a spring in my step.
She moves to close the door then stops. “Dalton.”
Half of me wants her to ask me to stay. Half would be disappointed if she does. I want the game to go on longer. “Yes?”
“You can tell your friends that my sister isn’t going anywhere. When she wants something, she gets it, and she wants this.”
“This building is full of men who live the same way. She won’t win.”
“My money is on her.”
“Then this should be an interesting couple of weeks.”
“Good night, Mr. Croft.” She closes the door in my face.
“Good night, Penny,” I say to the door, but I’m smiling. I turn and catch a guy from down the hall watching me. My smile fades, and I give him a look only another man would understand. It’s the equivalent of pissing on her door to mark this territory as mine—because it is.