36. Nicholas
Chapter thirty-six
Nicholas
I nevitable.
That’s the only word that keeps running through my head as I stare blankly at my screen. It was inevitable that Amara would end up working for me. Inevitable that I’d kiss her. Fucking inevitable that in just one month, everything will be over between us, and I’ll never see her pink cheeks or those deep green eyes ever again.
My pen taps against the desk. I should be finalizing the details for the international expansion. Should be reviewing the quarterly reports. Should be doing anything that doesn’t involve thinking about her.
But I can’t stop it.
The deadline for our fake engagement is fast approaching. Only a matter of time before we both walk away from each other and leave everything that happened behind.
And that sinking feeling in my gut grows heavier with every second that ticks by.
The thought of her no longer being a part of my life—the thought of her not living in my penthouse, not working beside me, not filling the space with her warmth and her goddamn laugh—hits harder than I ever expected.
I didn’t plan for this. I didn’t want this.
But it was fucking inevitable.
I run a hand over my face, gripping the pen tighter, as if doing so will somehow ease the ache deep in my chest. The clock is ticking, and every passing second reminds me that soon— too soon —this thing between us will be over.
And it doesn’t feel like it should be.
I need a fucking drink.
“Jesus Christ, Nicholas. You look like you’re about to explode.”
I barely look up. “Ever heard of knocking?”
“Nah.” Ethan flops down in the chair across from me. “Keeps you on edge,” he says with a smirk. “So… guess what I found out today.”
My eyes flick to him, but I’m not in the mood for his bullshit. “What?”
“Your membership at the club was reinstated,” he says, tilting his head with that teasing glint in his eyes. “Sneaky dog.”
I let out a groan. “How the hell do you know that?”
Ethan raises an eyebrow. “I own the damn club, remember?” He kicks his feet up on my desk.
I exhale sharply, running a hand over my face. “Get your feet off my desk.”
I try to focus on him, but my mind’s miles away. I don’t have the energy to deal with him right now.
Ethan studies me for a few seconds, shaking his head. “Alright, what’s going on with you? You look like you just walked face-first into an existential crisis.”
I rub my temples. “I don’t fucking know.” Everything. Nothing. Her .
Ethan sighs. “I thought you were getting some action. Should’ve loosened you up by now.”
I shoot him a glare. “I’m not the fucking mood, alright?” I shake my head, frustrated. “It’s… My chest feels tight, and… my head’s all over the place… Fuck.”
Ethan lets out a low whistle, holding his hands up. “Almost sounds like you’re in love or some shit.”
My whole body locks, the thudding of my heart ringing in my ears as if to confirm his suspicions.
I stiffen, fingers twitching on the desk.
My jaw clenches.
The truth smacks me in the face like a slap.
And suddenly, it’s so damn obvious that it’s almost suffocating.
I’m in love with her.
I’m in love with Amara.
“Of course, that would never happen,” Ethan continues, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “Not with your assistant-slash-fake-fiancée who you took to my club, just last week, right?”
I ignore the nosy fucker and picture her. Her laugh, her smile, and the thought of not seeing that ever again is like a knife twisting in my chest.
Fucking hell.
This is the worst complication possible.
Before I can even process the feelings coursing through my body, the door swings open.
And there she is.
Amara steps in, eyes glued to her tablet. “So, I think I found the perfect color for the bedroom—” She stops mid-sentence when she sees Ethan. “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were here. Am I interrupting?”
She tucks the tablet under her arm, and all I can do is stare at her. She has no fucking idea. No clue that she’s the reason my whole world just flipped upside down.
Ethan arches a brow at me. “You’re painting the walls again?”
My teeth grind. “We’re redecorating.”
Ethan squints, confused. “Didn’t you just hire a decorator like… five months ago?”
That fucking big mouth of his.
Amara freezes, her eyes widening. “What?”
I don’t look at her. Can’t. I can feel her eyes on me, though. Sharp, searching.
“But…” She shakes her head. “You told me you needed a decorator.”
Ethan whistles, his eyes twinkling as he meets my gaze.
I’m struggling to think of reasons why I shouldn’t punch my best friend of twenty years.
I ignore him and meet Amara’s confused gaze. “I did.”
She narrows her eyes, trying to make sense of it. “Ethan just said you hired one only a few months ago.”
I lift my shoulder in a shrug. “That was before you.”
Her frown deepens. “Nicholas…” She whispers my name like a question, and everything inside me breaks.
I swivel out of my chair, all the words I’ve been holding back rushing to the surface. I can’t fucking hold them in any longer. “I wanted you to do something you loved,” I admit. “My penthouse was just a place for sleeping before you stepped through the door, but now it’s a home. Our home, and I wanted you to decorate it any way you wanted to.”
Truthfully, I wanted her to turn it into somewhere she would have hated to leave.
I wanted her to want to stay.
I wanted those things months ago, before I realized I was in love with her, before I had even tasted her.
And I still want those things.
Want them more than anything.
“I wanted you to do it. No one else. You.” I cup her face, glancing down at those gorgeous eyes I love so much. “You’re amazing, Amara, and you shouldn’t have to wait another month to finally do what you love.”
Her eyes fill with tears. “Nicholas…”
Ethan’s sigh drags me out of the moment, suddenly remembering he was still in the room. “Welp. That’s my cue to leave.” He stands up, reaches into his jacket pocket, and pulls out a condom, tossing it onto my desk with a smirk. “Stay safe, kids.”
The door closes behind him, leaving just the two of us.
M thumbs brush over her soft skin as she breathes in sharply, her eyes wide, searching mine.
“Nicholas . Why would you—”
And then I kiss her.
I don’t think, don’t question it. I kiss her to stop the words, to stop the thoughts of how this is all going to end in a month.
It’s not gentle. It’s not careful. It’s raw, needy, a desperate attempt to keep her, to not face the fact that in just thirty days, everything will be over. I need more. More of her. More of this. It’s everything I’ve been holding back pouring out all at once.
Her gasp vibrates against my lips, and I feel her hands clutching at my shirt, pulling me closer, like she can’t get enough, like she doesn’t want to let go either.
“Do you have any idea what you do to me?” I ask her, frustration and desire laced in my voice.
Her lips part, her breath hitching as she looks up at me. “I—”
I don’t let her finish. My hands grip her hips, pulling her flush against me as my mouth crashes back down on hers.
I guide her backward until her ass hits my desk. She gasps as I slide my hands down her thighs, lifting her skirt just enough to expose the tops of her tights. With a sharp tug, I rip them open right in the crotch, the sound tearing through the room.
“ Nick ,” she breathes, her voice a mix of shock and arousal.
“ Fuck . Call me that again,” I groan, lifting her leg to hook around my waist.
Her moan is soft, but needy as her nails dig into my shoulders when I thrust against her, my body heating up.
“Nick. What are you doing?” she asks, hooking her arms around my neck, her lips parting on a soft moan when I grind against her pussy. “Someone could come in.”
“You have no idea what you do to me,” I murmur against her ear. “Every time you walk into a room, I can’t fucking breathe. You’ve ruined me, Amara.”
Her response is a broken moan, her head tipping back as I grind harder, my cock throbbing with the need to be inside of her.
I tug her blouse free, pulling it over her head in one swift motion. Her bra follows, the lace slipping from her shoulders and falling to the floor. She doesn’t stop me, doesn’t question me. She just keeps her eyes on me, her chest rising and falling.
God , this woman is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen in my life. I don’t know how I ever thought I wouldn’t fall for her. It was inevitable . Just like I fell for her damn cat.
I stare at her, my gaze dragging over the curves of her chest. My mind floods with the thought of those soft, perfect tits in my hands, feeling the weight of them, the way they’d look when I make her squirm. I want to twist, tease, and take, show her just how much control I can have over her body. My cock stirs at the thought, and I reach for a pair of binder clips on my desk.
Her lips part on a sharp gasp as her eyes dart between the clips and my face, and I can see that mix of excitement and fear that drives me fucking wild. She knows what’s coming—doesn’t know exactly what—but that’s what makes this so much better.
Slowly, I trace the cold metal along her tight, pink nipples, groaning as they harden under my touch. She sucks in a breath, her body arching toward me, gripping my arms for balance.
“What color?” I ask, my eyes locked on hers.
Her tongue darts out to run over her lips. “Green,” she answers without hesitation.
I cradle her face in my hands, my gaze locking with hers. “Remember, I will always listen to you. If you don’t like something, you tell me. Understand?”
She nods, eyes wide, her trust in me unwavering.
I place the binder clips on her nipples carefully, watching her face for any sign of discomfort. She gasps, her lips parting, but she doesn’t pull away. Doesn’t tell me to stop.
“God,” I whisper, pressing a kiss to her temple. “You have no fucking idea how beautifully wrecked you look right now.”
A needy whimper escapes her, and I tug on the nipple clamps a little, her lips parting on a cry.
My lips twitch, my cock straining against my pants. “You take pain so well for me, baby. I promise I’ll make them feel good after.”
My hands fly to her hips, and I turn her around, bending her over the desk. My hands slide up her thighs to the hem of her panties, and with a quick tug, the delicate fabric is shredded and discarded. The sound tears through the air, and my cock throbs at the sight of her exposed skin.
“Fuck, you’re a sight,” I say, my voice rough as I spread her legs wider, pulling down my pants to free my cock. “Bent over my desk, ready for me. Do you have any idea how badly I want you?”
She moans, her hands gripping the edge of the desk as I slide a finger along the seam of her pussy.
“You’re so wet for me,” I grunt, teasing her with the tip of my cock, already so fucking hard and leaking for her. “You like being like this, don’t you? Completely at my mercy.”
“Yes.”
I slide inside her in one smooth thrust, groaning as her body clenches around me. She cries out, her back arching as I fill her, stretching her, owning her.
“Fuck, Amara,” I groan, my hands gripping her hips as I start to move. “You feel so fucking good.”
I thrust harder, the sound of our bodies colliding filling the room. Her moans grow louder, turning desperate as I slide in deeper.
“Tell me how it feels,” I demand.
“So good,” she sobs. “So fucking good.”
When I can’t hold back any longer, I pull out of her, guiding her toward the large windows. The city sprawls out behind us, but all I see is her. Her flushed cheeks, her parted lips.
“Keep your hands on the glass,” I command, my tone firm. “Don’t move unless I tell you to.”
“Yes, sir,” she breathes.
I step back, taking her in. Her hands pressed flat against the glass, her legs slightly parted.
Opening my desk, I pull out a ruler and head toward her, dragging the cool, flat edge up the inside of her thigh, her body shivering under the touch. “You drive me fucking crazy,” I grit out. “Tell me why I can’t stop thinking about you.”
Her breath hitches, her fingers curling against the glass. “I don’t—”
“What the fuck did you do to me?” I cut her off, bringing the ruler down lightly against her ass.
She gasps, her body jerking at the sting. “I don’t know.”
“You don’t know?” I ask, tilting my head as I examine her ass, plump and red. Marked by me .
I press the ruler between her legs, the edge teasing her as I slide it against her slick heat, letting it get coated with her arousal. Her moan is soft but desperate, her hips pressing back instinctively.
“Fuck, look at you grinding against my ruler,” I muse, watching her hips buck against the wooden material. “You’re so fucking needy.”
Her body arches, her breath hitching as I tease her, never giving her exactly what she wants.
“You’re so beautiful like this,” I murmur, setting the ruler aside and sliding my fingers between her legs, circling her swollen clit, pinching it between my fingers. “So perfect.”
Pulling my hand away, I position myself behind her, sliding inside her again. The angle makes her cry out, her body arching as I thrust into her.
“Look out the window,” I murmur, my lips brushing her ear. “Look at everyone out there who doesn’t get to have you like this. You’re mine, Amara. Only mine .”
Her moans grow louder as my cock tunnels into her, deeper, harder, needing to feel every inch of her tight pussy. “Come for me,” I demand, my voice raw as I tug on one of her nipple clamps. She cries out, drowning in both pain and pleasure when I smooth my thumb over her sensitive nipples. “I want to feel you drench my cock.”
Her head tips back, a delicious moan leaving her lips as her pussy clenches around my cock and I bury myself deep inside her, feeling her pulse around me. The tension in my body snaps, and the pleasure is so intense it’s almost painful.
My hips jerk uncontrollably, driving into her as the pleasure coils low in my spine as I empty myself inside her.
The world fades away. There’s no city, no office, no one but her and the way she feels, the way she moans my name.
“Amara,” I rasp, her name a prayer on my lips as the last shudder wracks through me. I lean forward, pressing my forehead against her shoulder, trying to catch my breath.
I don’t let go. I can’t. Not yet. My arms wrap around her middle, holding her upright as her head falls back against my shoulder.
“Easy, baby,” I murmur, brushing my lips against her temple. “Just breathe. I’ve got you.”
Her fingers curl against the glass, her body melting into mine as I press a kiss to her damp skin. She smells like us, and I can’t stop myself from inhaling deeply, committing this moment to memory.
I pull my spent cock out of her slowly, and she gasps at the loss, her body tightening instinctively. My hands stay on her hips, grounding her, as she shivers against me.
I scoop her into my arms, her body soft and pliant against mine, and carry her to my desk. She doesn’t protest, just lets her head rest against my shoulder as her breathing starts to even out.
When I set her down, she leans back on her hands, her hair messy, her lips swollen, her eyes half-lidded and hazy, and I can’t help but smile.
This woman has me completely and utterly under her spell.
“Stay still,” I tell her, crouching in front of her as I carefully remove the binder clips from her nipples. She flinches slightly, and I lean in, pressing gentle kisses to the reddened marks, my lips soothing the tender skin.
“Are you okay?”
Her eyes soften, and she nods, her lips widening into a smirk. “That was fun.”
Relief washes over me, and I let out a chuckle, leaning in to kiss her, my lips moving against hers like I’m trying to tell her everything I can’t say out loud. She sighs into the kiss, her hands sliding up to tangle in my hair, pulling me closer.
When I finally pull back, her lips are swollen, and she looks at me like I’ve just changed her world. I don’t know how to tell her she’s done the same to me.
“I’m going home this weekend,” I tell her, my thumb brushing over her plump cheeks, reddened to a perfect pink.
“You are?” she asks, her brows knitting together.
With one hand, I hold her face, glancing down at those bright green eyes that make my heart jump in my chest. “I want you to come with me. I want you to meet my mom.”
Her lips part. She doesn’t pull away. She doesn’t laugh it off or tell me it’s a bad idea. Instead, she nods. “Okay.”
My shoulders drop in relief, and I release a breath. “Good,” I murmur, leaning in to press a soft kiss to her forehead, my lips lingering as I close my eyes.
I’ve never brought a girl home. Never wanted to. But I want to bring Amara. I want her to meet my mom, see my childhood bedroom, have her around my family.
Because I know now, with a certainty that shakes me to my core.
I’m not letting go of her.
Not now. Not ever.