Chapter 10
On June twenty-fifth, Hank stood outside the Flatiron Building in his best suit, chatting with his army friend Walter Amboy as he waited for Rory. The modern lines of the triangular skyscraper jutted into Madison Square, parting streams of pedestrians like the prow of an enormous ship.
“Thanks for doing this, Amboy.”
“Yeah, well, I owe ya. If you hadn’t taken Marge to the hospital that day, God knows what would have happened. Be careful, though. This could cost me my job if you get caught.”
Hank put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “I promise we won’t get you in trouble.”
Walter straightened his doorman’s uniform. “That her?”
Hank’s head whipped around, and he stopped breathing.
There she was, getting out of a cab. Her dress was cream silk draped with black chiffon, the square neckline revealing her décolletage.
Her blonde curls were pinned up, and she wore a wide black ribbon in a band around her head.
The bow dripped down her back, inviting him to unwrap her like a present.
Walter whistled low. “Jesus, Hank. Where’d you meet a lady like that?” he murmured under his breath.
“Belmont Park,” Hank answered absently, unable to tear his eyes away from Rory.
“I’ve been to Belmont Park,” Walter said in an awed whisper. “I ain’t seen nothing like her.”
Finding his feet at last, Hank walked up and offered her his arm. Even her light touch on his arm made him ravenous.
“Welcome to the Pilots’ Benevolent Association fundraiser,” he said with a sly smile. “You look ravishing.”
“Thank you. Your invitation was quite creative, you know. My family didn’t suspect a thing.”
Her scent of magnolias wafted his way. He wanted to bury his face in her neck and breathe deep.
“So what are we doing? Something more fun than a boring old fundraiser, I hope.”
“How would you feel about a bit of trespassing?”
Her eyes widened in obvious delight. “Oh, that sounds perfect. What’s the plan?”
“Allow me to introduce my friend, Walter. Walter, this is Rory. Rory, this is Walter. He’s going to be our guide this evening.”
Walter turned bright red and looked ready to fall over if a breeze hit him wrong.
“Very nice to meet you, Walter.”
“You too, my lady… I mean miss… I mean…”
“Call me Rory,” she said with a smile.
Rory turned to look at Hank, her eyes filled with amusement. It was all Hank could do to refrain from kissing her senseless on the spot. He picked up his satchel, filled with provisions for the evening.
“Walter, will you lead the way?”
Showing them into the building, Walter took them up the elevators. On the twenty-second floor, Walter opened the door to a warren of offices with a sign that said, “U.S. Realty.” He led them over to an office on the side and opened a window, putting a wooden chair just beneath it.
“Climb out through here,” Walter whispered, even though there was no one around to hear them.
“I’ll be back in two hours to escort you back out.
Don’t touch anything in here or I’ll lose my job.
Bathrooms are just off the stairs one floor down if you need them.
Stairs are over there,” he said pointing. With that, he departed.
“Let me climb out first, and I’ll help you,” Hank said, stepping onto the chair and out through the window.
There was a bit of a drop, as he landed on the thin strip of roof between the outer wall and the parapet.
He turned just in time to catch Rory as she climbed out the window with remarkable grace.
He stifled a groan as her body slid against his.
Unable to contain himself anymore, he kissed her hungrily, and she responded with equal fervor.
Her kiss was all sweetness and sin, her lips parting to invite him in, then sucking gently on his tongue, causing other parts of his anatomy to jump to life.
Some distant part of his mind reminded him how impossible this all was, how she lived in an entirely different world than him. Just as quickly, he dismissed it.
He couldn’t stand this torture for very long.
He needed more of her, and tonight, he intended to have it—not everything, but enough for them to slake their thirst for each other.
After that, they would go back to their separate lives, and she would marry some wealthy scion of a venerable family.
And he, if he survived his job, would marry someone like Dorothy.
This was one time, and it would have to last a lifetime.
Breaking their embrace, he gestured toward a metal ladder attached to the side of the building. “How would you like to stand on the roof of the tallest building north of Fourteenth Street?”
He was rewarded with a wide grin that made his cock stand even taller.
As she climbed the ladder ahead of him, he had a glorious view of her long, elegantly tapered legs, even catching a glimpse of her garters.
He shook himself and blinked several times, willing himself to remember he was on a ladder twenty-two stories up.
When he reached the top, she was already at the front or prow—as he thought of it—watching the river of car lights stream up and down Broadway and Fifth Avenue.
The view was as breathtaking as he remembered from the time Walter brought him up here, made all the more stunning by her irresistible silhouette.
The light summer breeze did nothing to cool the fire blazing within him.
Forcing himself to go slowly, he opened his satchel and laid out a picnic blanket, a bottle of champagne, two glasses, and a basket of perfectly ripe strawberries. If this was his last night with her, everything had to be perfect. When everything was in place, he stood and walked over to her.
Taking care not to startle her, he came up behind her, put his hands on her hips, and nuzzled her neck. She let out an appreciative, “Mmm.”
“Do you like it?” he murmured in her ear.
“Standing up here feels like flying,” she said. “The whole world is at my feet, pulsing with light and life. I might as well be floating on a cloud.”
Needing more of her, he nibbled on her ear, and his hand moved up to cup the delicious swell of one breast, his fingers finding and teasing her nipple through the fabric.
He held her firmly to ensure she didn’t lose her balance.
Despite the parapet one floor below, up here it felt like nothing stood between them and the street twenty-two floors down.
She melted back against him, making the most arousing little noises as his hands grew bolder.
Tonight, he was going to have his way with Princess Belmont despite the dangers to them both.
Even the mental image of Major Belmont with a shotgun was insufficient to keep him from touching her.
It would be worth bodily harm to feel her softness and vitality beneath his calloused hands tonight.
Reaching beneath the neckline of her dress, he caressed her silky-smooth skin until he found her taut nipple again and rolled it between his fingers, loving the gasp it elicited.
He could hardly believe this was real, but her fluttering heart beneath his hand was no fantasy.
She wanted this as much as he did, leaning into him and moving against him.
She was driving him out of his mind, and he needed more.
His other hand travelled down her abdomen, brushing across the joining of her thighs, and beginning to gather up her skirt.
“I want to touch you, Rory. If at any time you want me to stop, tell me, and I will. But I want to touch you. Here.” Once again, he brushed his hand against the intersection of her legs.
She gasped. “Then touch me, Hank. I want you to.”
White hot desire shot through him at her words. It was too much. The untouchable princess wanted him, plain old Hank Hawley. How had he gotten so lucky?
Her beautiful buttocks pressed against his arousal, driving him to distraction as he continued to gather her skirts. When he arrived at the hem, he reached beneath and found the divide in her bloomers, easing his finger between her folds.
Oh God. She’s so wet for me.
Something between a growl and a purr rumbled in his chest as he began to stroke. She shivered against him as he teased and tantalized.
“The whole city is yours, princess. Every twinkling light, every dark corner. The moon and stars too. It’s just you and me and the universe up here.”
She shuddered as he increased his pace, putting a finger inside her. He groaned as she pulsed around him. They were hidden in plain sight up here. As always, she thrived on the risk, showing no hesitation about being so exposed.
“Oh, Hank. I’m going to…” He added another finger, and she rocked against him.
The throbbing waves of her release began to clench around his fingers, and he held her tight, determined to keep her steady and safe.
She trembled against him, making his own arousal so intense he thought he was going to burst like a green boy.
He ached to strip off her dress and slide into her, feeling her heat and slick wetness on his cock. But he promised himself he wouldn’t. She wasn’t his and never could be. It would be too much to ask. There couldn’t be any unwanted consequences from tonight. They couldn’t risk it.
As her climax subsided, she turned slightly and looked over her shoulder at him. He was sure he’d never seen anything as erotic as her face in that moment—her kiss-stung lips, bedroom eyes, and afterglow.
He turned her and claimed her lips, kissing her softly even as he strained to keep himself from climbing on top of her and making her his in every sense.
Panting between kisses, she said, “I’ve never felt anything like that. I didn’t know it was possible to feel like that.”
Did she have any idea what she was doing to him? He was trying to keep control, but everything she said and did pushed him closer to the edge.
They stumbled together back to the blanket where they collapsed in a tangle of limbs. He kissed her deeply, struggling to hold back and take things slowly. She was so languid and dreamy after her release, stretching beneath him like a cat.
Determined to keep his head, he rolled off of her and simply held her for a long moment as they gazed at the stars together.
As some modicum of sanity returned, he murmured in her ear, “Champagne?”
She grinned and traced a finger down his cheek. “That would be lovely.”
Sitting up, he pulled the champagne from his satchel, opened it, and poured two glasses. The cost of the champagne was extravagant, but the store said it was the best they had. He wanted to do this right.
She held up the glass. “To surprises,” she said. “This might be the best surprise I’ve ever had.”
He clinked his glass against hers and took a sip.
The champagne was worth the price, he decided.
It tasted like sparkling stars on a summer’s night.
He picked up a strawberry and held it to her lips.
She half bit, half sucked it off its stem, and said, “Mmm,” upon tasting it.
He had no choice but to kiss her. The strawberry and champagne lingered on her lips.
“You taste like heaven,” he said.
“You taste like temptation,” she answered, placing a strawberry against his lips. He sucked it from its stem, letting the flavor explode in his mouth. It was perfect. She was perfect. He had no business falling for her, but he absolutely was.
“I should stay away from you, you know,” she said, taking another drink and looking off into the night. “My father is going to disown me if he finds out I’m with anyone other than Edward, not to mention what he would do to you.”
While he suspected that was the case, his stomach tightened at hearing it stated so baldly.
It was too much of a risk for her to take for him.
And while he told the senator he didn’t care if he was sent back to the front, the truth was he was rather attached to the job he had now, and her father would almost certainly see to it that Hank was assigned to something he wouldn’t return from.
There was a difference between risking death and walking into it, eyes wide open.
“We can’t ever do this again,” he said. “There’s too much at stake.”
She nodded without looking at him. “Let’s forget about all of that for now, though. We’re here and the rest of the world can go hang for all I care.” Taking a long drink, she put her hand on his leg.
Her touch, so close to where he needed it, made him close his eyes and bite his lip.
“You want me,” she said. “I want you. Let’s make each other feel very, very good, shall we?”