Chapter 12 Jonathan
JONATHAN
The penthouse is too quiet. No deals buzzing my phone, no contracts spread across my desk. Just me, in pajama pants, the city spread out beneath my windows like a toy set.
Midtown glitters, Rockefeller Center thrumming with happy couples holding hands, kids wobbling across the rink, the famous tree standing proud.
Normally, Saturdays mean errands, gym, maybe a bourbon hangover from the night before. Today, I’m restless. Today, I’m starving for Lizzy.
I picture her in a wool hat and scarf, cheeks flushed from the cold, laughing as she grips my arm on the ice. The image is enough to make my cock twitch against the thin cotton of my pants.
“Fuck,” I mutter, palming myself without thought. I collapse back into the leather couch, eyes squeezed shut, letting the fantasy take over.
Her lips red from the cold—and then red from wrapping around me. Her thighs straddling me right there in public, skirt hiked up, daring me to take her under the shadow of the Christmas tree.
My hand works faster, sliding down the thick length, pre-come slicking my palm. I imagine her moaning into my neck as I thrust into her, the sound drowned out by holiday music and laughter from strangers who have no idea what’s happening just feet away.
“Lizzy,” I groan, heat boiling low in my gut. The orgasm rips through me hard, my hips jerking as I spill across my stomach. I ride it out, panting, gripping the couch until the sparks fade.
For a long moment, I lie there, chest heaving, the city lights flickering against the window. Then the guilt creeps in. She’s my employee. My assistant. And yet, I can’t fucking stop.
I grab my phone. Her name glows in my contacts. One thumb hover away from either calling or backing out like a coward. I hit dial.
“Hello, stranger,” she answers, cheerful, sweet. That voice makes me hard all over again.
I clear my throat, cut the small talk. “Would you like to do something with me today?”
“Oh, of course I would. What did you have in mind?” she teases.
“It’s a surprise. Be ready in an hour, and dress warm.” My tone leaves no room for argument.
When she hangs up, a grin spreads across my face. The guilt doesn’t matter. The risk doesn’t matter. All I know is I need to see her.
I text my driver to be outside in an hour, then head to my closet. I want her to see me as more than her boss. I want her to see the man beneath—the man who wants her everywhere, especially in public.
Rockefeller Center. First date. A stage big enough for the whole city to watch. Unfortunately, other than pajamas and an old sweater I inherited from my father, I’m stuck wearing work attire. That should be a sight on ice skates.
I run outside as the car pulls up, and we head toward her apartment complex. To my surprise, she’s already on the stoop waiting when we arrive.
She descends the concrete steps and walks over to the car. She’s wearing a stunning white sweater dress with a black belt that accents it perfectly and thick, cozy winter boots. Her hair is down and curled, and her cheeks are rosy from blush.
“Wow, you look stunning,” I comment as she climbs into the backseat beside me.
“Thank you. I didn’t know where we were going, so I didn’t know how to dress,” she replies. She looks perfect. “So, where are we going?”
Smiling, I pat the driver on the shoulder, letting him know we are good to set off toward our destination. “You’ll see. It’s only a few miles away.”
Lizzy’s eyes sparkle as we pull up next to the large Christmas tree and skating rink, and she looks at me. “Here?” Nodding, she smiles widely and jumps out quickly, looking up at the shining tree. “You know, I’ve lived in New York my entire life and have never been here. This is amazing.”
Grabbing her hand in mine, I begin walking toward the skate rental booth. Once in line, she steps closer to me and whispers, “Are you sure we are okay to be out in public together?”
“As long as I get to be with you, I don’t care who sees us.” As if reassuring her, she wraps her arms around me and buries her face into my chest.
We get our skates and find a spot on the metal bench directly outside the rink’s barrier to put them on. She laughs while watching a few other patrons losing their footing and falling on their butts.
Her laughter is contagious. Being around her makes me forget about all the stress I normally carry on a day-to-day basis. She makes my life fun again.
“Truth be told, I’ve never skated before,” I admit as my feet hit the ice and I immediately grab the barrier.
She laughs and holds out her hand for me to take.
I hesitate for a moment before giving in, allowing her to guide me further onto the ice.
“Luckily for you, I grew up with a small pond out behind my house and would practice every winter.” Her confidence, while admirable, doesn’t help my worry of falling flat on my ass in front of her and half the city.
People whiz past us at a normal pace, and I can’t seem to get my footing. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea, yet seeing the smile on Lizzy’s face makes my suffering worth it.
For a moment, she lets go and does a small twirl to show me that it isn’t as scary as I’m making it seem, but the second I try, my skates hit off each other and I land hard on the ice.
Laughing, she hurries over to me and helps me up. “That was on me. I won’t let go again.” I’ve never held onto something so tightly in my life as she pulls me around the rink. I feel childish, but I want her to be happy.
After a few laps of going extremely slow, I decide to take a break and give my legs a rest. I sit and remove my skates while watching Lizzy soar over the ice like she’s flying. The wind flows through her hair, and the happiness on her face is mesmerizing. She truly looks like an angel.
I take this time to fetch some ice from concessions for my upper thigh and continue watching her glide on the ice.
After about twenty minutes, she joins me and tries catching her breath. “You are a natural,” I praise. “And you look beautiful on the ice.”
Her cheeks redden, and she giggles as she removes her skates. “Well, thanks. You aren’t so bad for a beginner.” We take a few minutes to watch the others before deciding to move on to something else.
With her delicately placed under my arm, we return the skates, and the smell of hot chocolate and fresh funnel cakes fills the air, catching our attention immediately. She interlaces her fingers with mine and pulls me toward the food truck.
While in line, she wraps herself in my open woolen peacoat, and I keep her warm, placing a few kisses on her forehead. Why can’t every day feel this good?
It can if I can get over the worry of what others may say. At the end of the day, it’s my life, not theirs. Not to mention, I don’t have a boss to answer to. I guess I worry about her well-being and reputation.
After ordering two hot chocolates and a funnel cake to share, we find a secluded picnic table close to the tree and enjoy the view and festivities.
She comments on a few of the decorations, comparing them to the festival we stopped at when we were heading back home from Rochester.
Once we finish our sustenance, we slowly walk back to my driver, stopping every so often to look at the wooden cutouts of Christmas characters they placed alongside the walkway to the parking lot. This date was a perfect idea. I knew I wouldn’t last two full days without being around her.
Not to mention, it was nice to test the waters by being together in public. I don’t know what I was so worried about. Maybe going completely public, even at work, wouldn’t be the end of the world. Only time will tell.
Opening the back door, Lizzy climbs in, and I follow suit. This feeling she gives me has me entirely out of my element, yet I don’t want it to stop. Having her gives my once dull life a purpose.
The car glides out of the parking lot, the city lights blurring past the tinted glass. From the front seat the driver calls, “Where to, sir?”
I don’t even hesitate. My hand slides over Lizzy’s thigh, squeezing once, firm enough to draw her eyes to me. “My place,” I say. It’s not a question.
Her lips part, surprise flickering across her face before softening into something else—anticipation. Heat.
“You want me to stay the night?” she whispers, almost testing me.
I tilt my head, watching her in the dim light, my thumb stroking the inside of her thigh now, higher, closer. “I don’t want you to. I expect you to. I’ve had my fill of empty beds.” My voice drops lower. “Tonight, I need you in mine.”
Her breath catches, and she nods. “I’d love to.”
A dark satisfaction curls through me. I tap the glass. “Penthouse,” I instruct. The driver raises a brow in the mirror, but one look from me has him shutting his mouth and pressing harder on the gas.
By the time we pull up to my building, I’m restless, pulse thick with the thought of her sprawled across my sheets. The doorman doesn’t exist. The lobby’s chandelier doesn’t exist.
All I can think of is getting her upstairs and out of those clothes.
The elevator doors close, trapping us in with polished marble and silence. She scoffs lightly, glancing at the floor. “Even this elevator is nicer than my whole apartment building.”
Her laugh is nervous. Mine isn’t. I step closer, boxing her against the mirrored wall, hands braced on either side of her face. She looks up, wide-eyed, lips parted, and I dip down, my mouth grazing hers before claiming it.
My hands run up the back of her neck and rake through her hair. She inhales sharply and her head falls back slightly, exposing her neck. My teeth lightly graze her soft skin and down to her collarbone.
The only thing I can think of is ripping these clothes off of her, feeling her soft skin against mine in the heat of passion.
How does she do this to me?