Love By Design

Chapter 36

“Why are you still up?”

A low, raspy voice echoing in the dim space of the Presidential Suite startles me and I press a hand to my chest out of fright. The living room is in complete darkness except for the small lamp on the table and I see the vague outline of August emerge from his room.

I’m currently sitting on the sofa, idly sketching on scrap pieces of paper after finding myself unable to sleep due to the eventful day and evening with the man now standing across from me.

“It’s 2 o’clock in the morning, Mahalia.”

His voice is ladened with sleep, as if he’s only just woken up moments before.

“I was finishing some sketches.” I motion towards the coffee table.

All the tension and worries I feel usually ease up when I keep my hands busy.

“In the dark?” He asks.

August’s figure becomes more discernible as he steps into the glow of the lamp on the coffee table and I blink. He’s wearing nothing but a pair of grey joggers, the waistband hanging low on his hips.

“I didn’t want to trouble you,” I say, looking away and focusing my gaze on the sketchbook on my lap. “In case you woke up.”

He walks over to the table, eyeing the sketches as he adjusts the lamp so he can see better.

“These are good.” He picks one up and squints his eyes, letting it adjust to the dim light. “Very impressive.”

I wrinkle my nose. “It’s just a sketch.”

“Your sketches belong in a museum,” He chuckles.

Rising from the sofa, I reach across the glass surface to collect the scattered pieces of paper. From across the coffee table, August is watching me, eyes roaming my figure and I feel myself flush in the dark.

His grey eyes linger where my hands are nervously fiddling with the hem of my top. I’m currently in my sleepwear, dressed in a grey lace camisole and grey frilly shorts to match. I hadn’t bothered dressing more reservedly since August had gone to bed already and I wasn’t expecting to see him until the next morning.

The intensity of his gaze rekindles an all-too-familiar flutter in my stomach and I refrain from making eye contact.

“I don’t remember coming back to The Maisonette,” August clears his throat as he walks to the fridge in the kitchen. “Nor do I recall finishing dinner.”

“We got kicked out of the restaurant,” I say, schooling a serious expression as I sit back down on the sofa. “For being too loud.”

“Merde,” August curses, running a hand over his face as he walks back over to the living room, a glass of water in hand. “We did?”

“I’m kidding,” I shake my head, grinning. “But we were close. You kept cursing the chandeliers.”

I stifle a giggle at the memory of a slightly drunken August complaining far too loudly about the hanging light fixtures on the ceilings as we were exiting the restaurant.

“I forgot that would be normal for you,” I begin. “Being dragged into and getting kicked out of lavish places like the party animal that you are.”

“Were,” He corrects me. “Those days are behind me. I’m far too old for that shit.”

“You’re twenty six.”

“And I feel like I’ve aged two decades in the past two months.”

August plops himself next to me on the sofa, sitting so close I can almost feel his body heat. My eyes trail down from his neck to his bare chest and I quickly look away.

Gripping the edge of my sketchpad, I focus my attention on drawing, the light scritching of my pencil on paper is the only sound that can be heard in the quiet atmosphere of the living room.

“I’ve never met anyone who works like you do.” He comments, taking a sip of his water.

I pause my sketching, looking up to find him staring at me.

“Your father is Cedric Vante,” I declare. “I’m pretty sure he works ten times as much as the entire fashion industry, August.”

“Not ‘as much’,” He shakes his head. “Like.”

I tilt my head to the side, waiting for him to comment further.

“I know people who work nonstop in this industry, I’m not oblivious.” He says. “But not quite like you.”

“And how might that be?”

August downs the rest of his glass in one, looking nonchalantly suave as he does so.

“With your heart on your sleeve.”

Closing his eyes, he leans his head back and brings the arm closest to me on the back of the sofa. It’s unfair how effortlessly cool and attractive he is. His devilishly handsome face, his charmingly blasé attitude. I tried not to openly stare at him during the fitting because it would have been unprofessional but seeing him now, all sprawled out next to me in all his shirtless glory?

Well, he isn’t called the Parisian Playboy for nothing.

My throat dries and I swallow quietly, trying not to fidget on the sofa.

“You’re staring,” He states, eyes still closed.

I blush, diverting my eyes.

“Yes, well.” I begin then blurt out obtusely, “You’re shirtless.”

He chuckles, grey eyes flickering open as he rolls his head in my direction.

“Stop ogling your boss, Mahalia Hartt.”

A wave of embarrassment floods my system as he echoes the statement I subconsciously spouted out during the catwalk fitting backstage. Of course, he would remember that humiliating incident.

“I’m going to finish my sketches in my room.” I clear my throat, getting up to leave. “Goodnight.”

“Wait, I was just teasing.” August reaches out for me, gently grabbing my wrist. “Sorry, I’ll stop.”

So much for professionalism.

The thought slips out of my mouth before I can stop it.

“I think we’re past the point of professionalism here, Tinker-Talent.” He chuckles, the sound deep and resonant. “You’ve literally grabbed my dick through my pants and I’ve had my tongue down your throat.”

My brain short-circuits at his crass remark.

“That was an accident!” I sputter, blushing furiously. “I wasn’t trying- I didn’t mean to-”

“Didn’t mean to what?” August looks at me intently, a boyish smirk on his face. “Inappropriately touch your boss?”

My eyes widen in mortification.

“I’m not complaining,” He shrugs, the smirk on his face transforming into a grin. “I’d like a bit of a head’s up though. I’m honestly struggling to keep up with your rather lewd advances, Miss Hartt.”

I can feel my face overheating, my mouth gaping like a fish as I struggle to think of an appropriate response to his apparent teasing. Being awake at 2 AM in Toussaint is yielding no favourable outcome for me, clearly.

“I’m leaving,” I announce instead.

Holding my sketchbook close, I make a move to head back to my room when August grabs my left hand, interlocking it with his.

“Okay, sorry, I’ll stop.” He holds his free hand up placatingly as his grey eyes pore over me. “Please stay, I want to share some news.”

Curious, I turn back to him.

“A confirmation came through about my transfer to Grayson.”

I gasp, immediately sitting back down next to him.

“Oh my god, congratulations!” I grin. “I mean, not like I— or anybody else for that matter— expected a different outcome, being a nepo baby and all. But congrats!”

August rolls his eyes playfully.

“You’ll be back in New York before you know it.” I tug on our hands excitedly, offering him a genuine smile.

“Except,” he starts, eyes flickering down to our intertwined fingers. “I think I’ve grown to like London. Never thought I’d grow so attached to the city yet here I am.”

There’s an unreserved softness to his gaze, echoing the expressions he exhibited at the dinner earlier.

“London would love to keep having you,” I say sincerely.

“Would she?” He stares at me. “Would she really?”

Something pulls at my chest, pushing me towards him. I have a feeling he isn’t talking about the city anymore but I nod anyway.

“She would,” I affirm.

“God, what I’d give to have London.” He mutters, eyes flitting down to our hands before looking back up at me again. “She’s unlike anyone I’ve ever met.”

His grey eyes bore into mine, warm and seeking, as he searches my face.

There’s a frantic tugging on my heartstrings and I bite my lip.

August’s eyes flicker down to my mouth, my throat tightening as I swallow.

“Mahalia?” His voice is gentle as he whispers my name.

“Yes?”

A pause.

“Can I kiss you?”

My breath hitches, my stomach fluttering at the question as August raises his gaze to meet mine before slowly trailing his eyes back down to my lips.

I nod, exhaling quietly.

“Please.”

Slowly, he leans in, the scent of sandalwood and bergamot invading my senses as my eyes flutter close and his lips meet mine.

The kiss is soft, slow and searching.

August is gentle as his hand travels to my neck, cupping my jaw to pull me closer to him as he coaxes me into his mouth in a delicate caress.

There’s a gentleness to his kiss that differed from the ones at the club, a tenderness to his touch.

It’s light yet assuring— certain.

August begins to pull away but I find myself gravitating towards him as I wrap my arms around his neck and press my lips against his, imploring.

I feel him smile against the kiss, biting lightly on my bottom lip before he gently nudges me backwards until I’m lying flat on the sofa, my hair sprawled out around me.

August leans back to look at me, grey eyes trailing the length of my body and I’m suddenly all too conscious of the amount of skin I’m showing.

The flimsy top I’m wearing does nothing to hide my decency, one strap falling down my shoulder as the hem rides up my stomach. All the while, the waistband of my shorts has shifted low on my hipbones, exposing the lace trim of my underwear.

August inhales slowly, eyes transfixed.

“You’re fucking mesmerising,” He exhales.

His large hands skim over my pelvis, fingers tracing the lace detailing before settling on the exposed skin of my waist. Heat simmers in the pit of my stomach as his palm slides under my camisole, my body burning at his touch.

“August,” I whisper, a newfound craving coiling within my core.

He hums, grey eyes roaming appreciatively before his lips surge forward for another kiss.

It’s heavier this time, urgent and demanding.

His teeth gently graze the bottom of my lip before his tongue parts through and licks eagerly into my mouth. The taste of mint is subtle, along with something fresh and crisp and I resist the urge to bite into him.

“I love hearing my name from your lips.” His words are murmurs against my mouth. “Say it again.”

“August.”

He reaches for my leg, wrapping it around his lower back and my breath catches in my throat as he presses his hips against mine. Reaching up to wrap my arms around his neck, I pull him down for an onslaught of hurried kisses.

“Mhm—” His voice is deep, gravelly as he groans into my mouth. “Fuck.”

August traces his fingers over the hem of my tank top, snaking his hand under the fabric to firmly settle on the bare skin of my stomach and I moan, finding myself sensitive in places I didn’t even know existed.

“Please,” I whimper into his mouth.

My mind is too hazy for me to fully comprehend what it is I’m begging for.

“—lia.” The shaky exhale of my name coming from his lips brings me back to reality. “What are you doing to me?”

August is fervent, grip tightening around my waist and his head tilts back to look at me.

“You’re in everything, you’re everywhere.” He begins, dazed. “I can’t get you out of my head. You’re on my mind all the time, I can’t think straight when you’re next to me but I can’t function when you’re not around either. I’m so fixated on you— the idea of you, the reality of you. I can’t get you out of my head no matter how hard I try. You’re constantly in my thoughts, you occupy every corner of my damn mind. I see you in everything, everyone, everywhere. Ever since I met you— fuck, you’re all I think about, you’re all I want.”

His confession is an urgent unravelling, threading its way to my heart.

“August,” I swallow shakily, blinking up at him.

He groans, turning away. “God, don’t look at me with those eyes.”

I push myself up on my elbows as he shifts to a sitting position. Even in the dim lighting, his profile is still striking, wavy locks tousled as he lolls his head on the back of the sofa. There’s a slight flush to his face, neck exposed and bare chest tinted the lightest pink as he breathes raggedly.

He looks beautiful, God-like.

Feeling brave, I crawl over to August, straddling him between my legs.

“Mahalia,” He sounds winded, almost tortured.

He grips the cushioned sofa underneath him, so much so that his knuckles are turning white. My own fingers twitch, nerves and adrenaline rolled into one.

“Please,” August swallows as he tugs on the hem of my top, the strap slipping off one shoulder.

My heart stutters at the insinuation, my stomach curling with desire.

“I’m not…” I begin, shakily. “I haven’t…”

I don’t know what I’m doing.

“We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”

He slides the fallen strap back over my shoulder, tracing the dip of my collarbone before placing a gentle kiss on the base of my throat.

Goosebumps erupt all over my skin as he trails his lips upwards and gently nips at my neck. The singes from my fingertips course throughout my entire body, every fibre of my being set ablaze by August.

Every muscle, every nerve— down to the last synapse.

“August,” I breathe out. “I want you.”

Pressing myself down on his lap, I roll my hips against his, tugging clumsily on the drawstrings of his sweatpants.

“Are you sure?” He asks, straightening me up to look me in the eyes.

The grey of his irises is almost non-existent. Only a thin layer of silver surrounds his enlarged pupils as they search my eyes for confirmation.

“Yes,” I nod my head. “A-are you?”

I can’t contain the vulnerability in my voice at my question as I bite my lip and stare at him.

August’s gaze is unwavering, eyes locked on mine as he draws me closer to him.

“God,Mahalia.” He responds, leaning his forehead against mine. “I’ve never been more certain of anyone in my life.”