TEN
HIS APARTMENT was in a sleek modern building that rivaled his corporate HQ. Gia tried her best to take in the features of the lobby before Brogan swept her into what turned out to be a private elevator, but none of it stuck.
The black steel doors opened to an expanse of hardwood floor, a few doors in the wall beyond. To the right, a staircase led up to a wide open double-height floor and it was up those stairs they went.
The huge kitchen stretched all the way to the glazed wall at the far end of the room, beyond which was what looked like a wide exterior terrace.
The living room took up three quarters of the large open plan space, with various seating areas.
A flight of stairs led up to another floor that hung above the elevator.
All of that was interesting, though not as interesting as the man standing at a bar in the far right corner next to the open terrace doors.
“You must have been having fun,” the man said, pouring Scotch. “Midnight is your limit. The hospital has enough for its new lab? You’ll need to double whatever you donated tonight for the Kavanaghs or they’ll question your loyalty.”
The Kavanaghs were an extremely rich family. Brogan was affiliated with them?
He didn’t respond to the comment, merely carried on as though it hadn’t been said.
“Julius McAlm, Gianna Sear,” Brogan said, leading her across the room. “We call her Gia.”
“Charmed,” Julius said and handed Brogan a drink before shaking her hand. “I didn’t know what you like to drink.”
“We have business,” Brogan said. “Gia won’t be staying up with us… It’s necessary to introduce you two and, with that done, I’ll show you to your room, Gia.”
He put his drink on the bar and took her arm to guide her up the stairs to a long balcony hallway that stretched the width of the apartment.
Without pausing to appreciate the great view of the living space beneath and the grand windows with the terrace beyond, Brogan led her down a long, wide passage away from the view.
Moonlight lit the end of the new corridor, but they didn’t get that far.
He stopped at the first door on the right and opened it.
“This will be your bedroom,” he said, staying in the doorway.
“You have your own closet and bathroom; Jenna stocked both. Make a list of anything else you need; everything will be provided without question. Make yourself at home. You have to become accustomed to this apartment if people are to believe you’ve been here often… we’ll be holding events here.”
“We?”
“Yes, you’ll play hostess,” he said and grazed her jaw with the knuckle of his index finger. “Get some sleep. We’re going out tomorrow night, I want you fresh.”
As he went to leave, Gia stepped forward and curled her fingers around his lapels. “Where do you sleep?”
“At the end of the hall,” he said. “Julius’s bedroom is opposite yours.”
Sliding her fingers higher under his lapels, she edged closer. “Is that your way of telling me we have to behave for our chaperone?”
“Alcohol lowers your inhibitions, Irish,” he said, admiring her mouth.
She couldn’t deny it loosened her up, but she’d never felt as wanton as she did around Brogan, chaperone or not.
“You are supposed to be my boyfriend, right? Does my loosening up make you uncomfortable?”
“No. I have a list of quid, what you got on your quo?”
“Maybe more than you can handle,” she murmured and pushed to her tiptoes. “Let’s start with a goodnight kiss.”
“Brogan!” Julius’s voice echoed down the hall.
She dropped back on her heels. “Our chaperone doesn’t like me,” she whispered.
Her inhale quivered when his hand slid from her hip around to squeeze her butt. Mmm, digging her teeth into her lip to hold that whimper in, she pushed into his grip, inviting more.
“You’re too convincing.”
“You’re a good boyfriend,” she said. “Convincing the world I’m enamored isn’t as difficult as I thought it would be.”
Still massaging her ass, he stroked the back of his single digit up and down her jaw, drawing her chin higher each time.
Her eyes drifted closed; her lips parted.
“Each time I’m this close to you, I’m astounded by how beautiful you are.”
She smiled but didn’t open her eyes. “Are you being polite or have you had one too many?”
“If I’d had one too many, I wouldn’t have the presence of mind to stay here in the doorway.”
She peeked at him. “Where would you be?”
“In my bedroom with you underneath me.”
“Now I know why we have a chaperone.”
“Julius is aware of our arrangement.”
“So he’s here to keep us honest? Is that why you didn’t want to drink with me? You don’t trust yourself…” At least she wasn’t the only one. “What makes you think I’d join you in your room?”
His finger slid to the back of her jaw and kept going until he could curl them around the back of her neck.
“Why did you want to know where my room was?”
She subdued her smile. “Maybe so I didn’t stumble on it by mistake,” she said. “Or maybe I wanted to know so I could slip between your sheets after you’re asleep.” She let a fingertip touch his jaw. “You know my boyfriend insists I sleep naked.”
“Does he?”
Nodding, she dragged the clip from her hair as she turned so it cascaded around her shoulders.
Gathering it up, she held it on top of her head. “I need someone to unzip me.”
He did as she asked, drawing the zipper of her dress down to the curve of her ass.
Holding it to her chest, she turned to face him. “You have a beautiful home.”
“I want to see more of your body.”
“Give me my quo and I’ll give you your quid,” she said, leaning in. “Kiss me goodnight, Mister.”
“You have amazing faith in my strained willpower.”
Bending slowly, he brushed his mouth across hers. Not much of an effort Bro—he scooped both hands under her ass and pulled her higher. Better. Oh, so much better.
Opening her mouth, she accepted his tongue and fought it with her own, conceding to his triumph willingly.
Brogan Spurn was a powerful man used to being in control. Yet there was something about the way he was with her. Rather than subjugated, he inspired her with his respect.
Coiling her arms around the back of his neck, she pulled him down, deepening their kiss, hoping he’d read her want. She wanted it. God, couldn’t he tell? This was a kiss meant to lead somewhere horizontal. She wouldn’t break it, wouldn’t ask, why couldn’t he tell? Was this her? Only her?
When his hand skimmed around her torso to cup her breast, she breathed out and moved against him. Yes. Yes. Slipping her hands beneath the collar of his jacket, she started to push it from his shoulders ready to—damnit, he caught both her hands and held them in his, putting some space between them.
“This is why we need a chaperone,” he said and bent to kiss her quick.
His eyes trailed down over her bared torso as their joined hands sank to their sides. “Enjoying your quo?”
“I’ll keep enjoying it until you stop me.”
Laughing, she let him go and crossed her arms to cover her breasts. “You’re making me self-conscious.”
“You’re beautiful,” he said, easing her forward to kiss her hairline. “Get some sleep, Irish.”
She caught his hand and got a squeeze as their eyes met for another second, then he slipped away.
What was happening between them? Where would it go? She had to pluck up the courage to ask. Were there limits on quid pro quo or did anything go?