To her credit, Nicole doesn't call me out, just smirks as though she's amused at my comment that sounded way more boastful out loud than it had in my head. I grimace at my insensitivity. Just because I grew up with money doesn't mean I should forget that others aren't in such a privileged position. I guess I'm out of practice in a way. All my friends and family are well off, which is probably why I'm stumbling so much.
"Kensington's nice," Nicole says genuinely.
"It is. I wish I could spend more time there, but work keeps me busy."
"So, you own AHP?"
I take a sip of cool water, using the seconds to try and do better with my next response.
"I do. It wasn't what my family wanted for me. They're involved in the oil industry, and they wanted it to be a family business."
"Was it the family aspect, or the industry you didn't like?"
"Both," I say. "I love my family, but there is already so much politics there without the additional layer of work friction, and I wanted to do something for myself."
Nicole nods. "I get that. You must get a real sense of satisfaction from building something from scratch."
I remember how branching out on my own felt like a real challenge, but I did it, initially with my family's financial backing. Could I have achieved the same success without their financial involvement at the start? I would probably say no. Money grows more money. It's the way of the world. But how to tell Nicole?
"It's an overwhelming feeling to have so many people reliant on you for job security and to know that your company is doing good in the world. But I did get a helping hand at the start. My family gave me the start-up capital, which I paid back later."
Nicole nods, and I wonder what she thinks of me now. Would it be more impressive to her if I'd worked my way up from the bottom? Is she impressed that I admitted I'd had a helping hand? Why the hell do I care so much?
I struggle to imagine how hard it must be to start out with debts to repay. It sounds like Nicole is very financially exposed, and it's a feeling that I cannot profess to understand. I don't like knowing that about her, but we aren't in a relationship, and her problems aren't mine to fix. I'm pretty certain that she wouldn't want me to fix them either. She seems like a very independent person, a trait that I respect a lot.
"You know," she says after a while. "I take it back. This food is amazing. I feel like I'm getting healthier as I eat it!"
"Sean is worth every penny."
"Does it always come back to money for you?" Nicole laughs.
"No," I say smoothly. "It always comes back to fucking." She shakes her head, and I smile. There really is something about shocking a woman that turns me on. "Finish your food, and then we'll go and do what we came here to do."
"Okay, boss," Nicole says in a terrible American accent, bringing her hand to her forehead in a clipped military salute.
"Forget the food," I say, loving how sassy she is but wanting to wipe the smirk off her face all the same. I grab her wrist and tug her to her feet, then slip my hand into the back of her hair and grip tightly, pulling her in for a kiss. Her lips are soft, and her mouth tastes of soy sauce and palm sugar, a mix of sweet and salty that is just like her.
She rests her hands on my thighs and leans in further until her body is pressed in close to mine. I've been thinking all morning about what I would do to her. I've been fantasizing about her hair fanned across my pillow, hands attached to the bedposts, and legs spread by my hands. I've thought about fucking her in front of the windows, pressing her breasts against the cold glass, imagining who might be watching from surrounding buildings.
Now that Nicole is with me, none of those options seem right. Our kisses are so passionate that I want her now. I want things to flow without the interruptions that a change of location will bring.
I draw my hand up to unbutton her blouse but leave it and her jacket on, the fabric hanging open, giving me a perfect view of her lace-covered breasts. Her breathing is fast as I run my finger slowly between them and then gently follow the line of her bra to the strap. I push it down over her shoulder into the sleeve of her blouse. Her little pink nipple comes into view, already stiff and pointed, perfect for me to flick with my tongue. Her reaction is extreme when I bite down softly, her back arching and fingers digging into my legs. And the moan that comes out of her mouth makes me bite down harder. I want to hear her cry out, maybe to hear my name on her lips, now that I'm no longer a stranger to her.