Chapter 20
JENNA
I’m still a little pissed as I open the closet door, reaching for Abram’s private stash of fresh shirts.
I told Abram what she said didn’t bother me, but I wasn’t being entirely truthful. Her words cling to my mind like cobwebs, each insult a sticky strand of irritation. Chubby whore. Seriously? How the hell did Abram ever marry someone like her?
I take a moment to let the anger flow out of me. With a frustrated sigh, I push aside a couple of empty hangers. Where the hell are the shirts?
Shit.
There are no shirts. Just a mocking empty space. I knew he’d kept some here, yet there aren’t any now. Great. I shut the door with more force than necessary and head back to Abram’s office. He glances up from his desk, eyebrows raised in curiosity at my expression.
“Problem?”
“Your secret stash of shirts is empty,” I say. “Either your dry cleaning hasn’t arrived yet or there’s a shirt thief on the loose.”
He leans back in his chair, the corner of his mouth ticking upward. He winces, remembering something. “I sent them in for dry cleaning but forgot to pick them up. My fault, not yours.”
I huff out a breath. “What are you going to do? You can’t exactly lead meetings smelling like a distillery.”
He rubs a hand over his jaw, amusement forming in his eyes. “You’re right. I’ll have to work from home.”
I pause, caught off-guard. “From home?”
“Yes. It’s quiet. Secure. And I have plenty of shirts there,” he adds with a wink, then leans forward, hands clasped loosely. “You’ll come with me.”
I stare at him, unsure I’ve heard correctly. “To your apartment?”
“Yes.”
Heat flickers through my veins, my pulse quickening. “Is that appropriate?”
He chuckles, a deep, rich sound that only makes my cheeks burn hotter. “Considering what we just did on my desk, Jenna, I think appropriate is a bit irrelevant now.”
“Fair,” I say, a reluctant smile slipping through. “But—”
“There’s plenty of room,” he assures me, interrupting. “You’ll have your own office space if you want it. We can coordinate from there.”
Being in Abram’s apartment, his private space… the thought sends a wicked thrill straight down my spine. I bite my lip, trying to appear unaffected.
“Look, if you’re not comfortable with it,” he says, watching me closely, “you can take the rest of the day off. No pressure.”
I straighten immediately, shaking my head. “No, that’s fine. I’ll go with you.”
He smiles, genuine and pleased. “Good. I’m glad.”
My irritation at Daria begins to fade, replaced with anticipation. There’s something else too, something softer. Being wanted by Abram like this, seeing him genuinely pleased at the thought of me being close, feels good. Really good.
He stands, grabbing his keys from the desk. “You can ride with me. Easier than dealing with valet today.”
“Sure.”
I follow him down to the private elevator and into the basement garage. When we reach his parking space, the car parked there makes my jaw drop. A sleek, powerful black Mercedes-Maybach, waiting for us.
“Wow,” I breathe.
He smirks, opening the passenger door for me. “Get in.”
I slide onto buttery soft leather seats, inhaling deeply. Everything smells like him—leather and something deliciously masculine. He slides into the driver’s seat, taking control with practiced ease. He grips the steering wheel and starts the engine, the car humming quietly to life.
We glide through Vegas traffic, the city shimmering in the morning sunlight. It’s weird being with him in his car, outside of the office. No work interruptions, no ringing phones or unexpected visitors. Just us.
Abram glances sideways at me, eyes glittering. “You’re staring.”
I flush, turning to face forward again. “You look good behind the wheel.”
He chuckles. “Glad you think so.”
I bite back a smile. “Don’t let it go to your head.”
“Too late,” he says, grinning, his hand slipping from the wheel and moving gently onto my thigh. My heartbeat accelerates immediately.
“What do you think you’re doing?” I ask, my voice hitching despite my effort to sound calm.
“Keeping you close,” he says, palm sliding slightly higher. “That’s why I wanted you with me today. So I could show you exactly just how close I’d like you to be.”
My breath hitches again, and I part my thighs instinctively, heart hammering in anticipation. His hand moves higher, fingertips tracing teasing patterns over my legs. Even through the fabric, the heat from his touch radiates into my skin, pooling heat low in my belly.
His eyes stay on the road, completely calm and composed, but his hand grows bolder, slipping beneath my skirt.
I gasp softly, gripping the leather seat as pleasure spirals through me.
He smiles, eyes still straight ahead, completely in control as he strokes and teases, slipping deeper, caressing exactly where I need him most.
“Abram,” I whisper, head dropping back against the headrest. My hips rock instinctively into his hand, body humming with desperate need.
“Relax,” he murmurs. “Let me take care of you.”
His fingers swirl gently before firmly pressing in exactly the right spot, working me expertly, steadily. His fingertip drags up along my lips, spreading me just enough to tease my clit perfectly.
Pleasure coils tight and hot, breath coming faster as I spiral closer to the edge. I barely recognize the city streets sliding by, aware only of his hand, his touch, the skillful way he plays my body.
“I’m…” I choke out, arching helplessly.
“I know,” he says, voice like silk. “Let go, Jenna. Now.”
I shatter at his command, biting back a cry as I come around his fingers. He continues to gently stroke my pussy, easing me down slowly, my breath ragged and shallow. By the time I open my eyes again, we’re pulling up to an exclusive building. His building.
My limbs are jelly as he parks the car in a private underground garage. He finally turns, regarding me with quiet satisfaction, and withdraws his hand. My body aches deliciously, craving more already.
“Ready to get to work?” he asks, a wicked gleam in his eye.
“Why do I get the feeling you’re not talking about spreadsheets,” I say breathlessly.
He grins, getting out then coming around to open my door. “Maybe. Maybe not.”
I take his hand, legs still trembling slightly. I never thought Abram Vasiliev could make me this reckless, but I like it. God help me, I like it way too much.
As the elevator doors close behind us, heat pulses through me again. If Abram wants to keep me close today, I’m not going to argue. Not even a little bit.
When the doors slide open, Abram leads me inside with a confident stride.
Immediately, the lobby steals my breath.
Sleek marble floors gleam beneath towering windows, lush, green plants artfully placed like subtle sculptures.
Everything whispers elegance and power. Luxury practically drips from the walls.
The attendant at the front desk glances up and nods respectfully, eyes flicking quickly to me before returning to Abram.
His presence clearly commands respect here, but I don’t miss the curiosity in her gaze.
She’s probably wondering what the hell I’m doing here, and frankly, I’m wondering the same.
Abram doesn’t pause, guiding me straight to a gleaming glass elevator marked with his private access.
The doors part silently, and we step in, soaring smoothly upward, Vegas unfolding beneath us in a glittering panorama.
It's breathtaking, majestic, and completely forgotten the instant Abram’s mouth finds mine again.
His kiss is fierce, hungry. His hands grip my waist possessively, and I melt into his chest. My heart pounds against his as he backs me firmly against the glass. A faint rush of vertigo hits me as the city stretches out beneath us, but Abram’s mouth quickly distracts me from it.
“You drive me fucking insane,” he growls against my lips, one hand sliding roughly over my thigh.
“I could say the same about you,” I manage, fingers buried in his shirt, desperate for the heat of his skin.
His tongue plunges deep into my mouth, demanding and irresistible. I moan against him, my legs trembling as the elevator continues its ascent, our bodies pressed impossibly close. His dominance ignites every nerve ending, his roughness exactly what I crave.
The elevator halts smoothly, doors gliding open directly into Abram’s penthouse. He pulls away just enough to lead me inside, and my breath catches all over again.
His home is nothing short of spectacular. Floor-to-ceiling windows frame an astonishing view of the city, sunlight cascading over modern furniture, tasteful artwork, and plush rugs. It’s open, spacious, and beautifully masculine. It suits him perfectly.
“This place is incredible,” I say, gaze sweeping across the luxurious space.
His eyes are locked on me. “Glad you like it. But right now, I have other priorities.”
His tone sends a thrill cascading down my spine. “Such as?”
“Strip.”
My heart skips a beat. “Really?”
He leans against the marble kitchen island, crossing his powerful arms, eyes dark and intense. “Consider it your work uniform while you’re here.”
Heat floods my cheeks, excitement spiking through my blood. I reach for my blouse, but he stops me immediately.
“No. Slowly.” His voice is husky, commanding. “Show me.”
My pulse quickens as I comply, fingers trembling slightly with nervous anticipation. I leisurely undo the buttons, letting my blouse slip over my shoulders. Abram’s eyes darken further, his chest rising and falling at a slightly quicker pace with each measured breath.
I drop my skirt next, sliding it slowly down my hips. His gaze traces every inch of exposed skin, stoking a fire deep in my belly. Down to nothing but my bra, I pause, waiting for his next command.
“Turn around,” he says.
A thrill dances through me, and I obey without hesitation. I can feel his eyes on me, hot and possessive. It’s intoxicating.
He’s behind me in an instant, spinning me around and scooping me into his arms effortlessly, his powerful muscles flexing around me. I wrap my legs around his waist, gasping slightly when he sets me down atop the cool marble of the kitchen bar. He kneels between my thighs, eyes blazing.
“I can’t wait to taste you again,” he says, mouth descending, warm breath brushing sensitive skin.
His tongue glides over me, soft and sure. My head falls back and I gasp, my fingers holding him in place, needing the contact, the connection, the closeness of him.
He takes his time, like this is exactly where he wants to be. He kisses around my lips, his tongue darting out teasingly before spreading me open.
Each stroke of his tongue over my clit feels like heaven, like he’s speaking a language only my body understands. My thighs tremble around him, the heat building slowly, achingly, deliciously.
The sight of him between my legs, face buried in me with such single-minded devotion, is almost too much. It’s beautiful. It’s overwhelming.
My heart squeezes in my chest because it’s not just erotic, it’s tender.
It’s real.
He groans, the vibration sending another jolt of pleasure through me.
I bite my lip, breath catching, hips tilting into the rhythm he’s building.
He knows exactly what he’s doing to me. Every swirl and flick of his tongue, every pause is intentional.
He slips a finger inside, curling into my warm wetness.
The pleasure crests even higher, stealing my breath, my thoughts, everything. And still, he doesn’t rush. He stays patient and focused, anchoring me even as I start to come undone.
“Oh, God, Abram—” I choke out, hips bucking against his mouth.
“Come for me,” he commands, his voice deep and rough, vibrating deliciously against my pussy.
I cry out sharply as overwhelming pleasure tears through me. My vision blurs, shattering into brilliant sparks. As the orgasm begins to fade, he stands, capturing my mouth in a searing kiss. I’m dizzy with need, utterly lost to him.
He lifts me again and carries me down the hall to his bedroom. Inside, it’s all dark wood, silken sheets, and subtle masculinity. He lowers me onto the massive bed before stripping off his clothes, revealing that powerful body that haunts my fantasies.
He climbs onto the bed, guiding me to my hands and knees. “Damn, I can’t get enough of you.”
I gasp as he enters me from behind, hands gripping my hips, claiming me deeply, his thick cock stretching me in the way only he can. Right away, his rhythm is strong, commanding. Over and over he thrusts into me.
The sound of our breathing and bodies meeting fills the room, mingled with his growled praises and dirty whispers.
“You’re perfect, Jenna. Every fucking inch of you,” he groans, thrusting deep, his cock hitting just the right spot deep inside my pussy.
“Yes,” I whimper, clutching the sheets. “God, Abram, yes—”
He leans forward, lips brushing my ear. “You’re mine, Jenna. Say it.”
“I’m yours,” I gasp, pleasure swelling.
He flips me onto my back in one swift move, never breaking contact.
His eyes blaze into mine as he positions himself above me, muscles rippling as he plunges deep once more.
I catch the sight of him vanishing into me, and I wrap my legs tightly around him, digging my nails into his broad shoulders, needing him closer, deeper still.
“You feel like heaven,” he murmurs, pressing kisses along my neck. “You’re everything I want. Everything I fucking need.”
I arch against him, hips rising desperately, meeting every thrust, igniting flames that consume me completely. “Don’t stop,” I plead. “Please.”
He thrusts harder, deeper, driving us both toward the edge. Our moans blend, spiraling higher, until we shatter together in an explosive climax. I cling to him, trembling, my body utterly spent and satisfied beneath him.
Slowly, gently, he pulls me close, pressing soft kisses to my temple, my cheek, my lips. The aftercare is tender, affectionate… almost just as perfect as the intense passion we just shared. My heart squeezes dangerously in my chest.
“You’re incredible,” I whisper, tracing my fingers gently along his powerful chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath my palm.
He kisses my forehead, holding me closer. “So are you.”
Lying in his arms, warm and utterly content, a sudden nervous flutter takes root in my chest. Because as much as I’ve tried to deny it, I can’t. This is more than lust, more than physical pleasure. My heart’s in this too, and I’m starting to fall.
Oh God.
I glance up at Abram’s face—strong, powerful, possessive—and realize just how much danger I’m in.
But even knowing the risk, I still find myself holding him tighter, breathing him in deeply.
Because despite all my fears, falling for Abram feels too good to fight it.