Thoroughly Whipped

Harry’s jaw clenched, and the muscles in his forearms tensed when his grip tightened on the wheel. “You must know,” he whispered. “I’m not an actor, Faith. With you, I feel I have failed completely in hiding my affection.”

I smiled. Because he had hidden it. But not lately. Not in certain moments in the elevator. Not in the hospital, and certainly not today. I covered his hand, which was on my thigh. It felt so right, like it had always been.

“He is losing his shop,” I said, for once actually saying the words aloud. I had denied them for so long, prayed for an answer, a miracle. But I knew there wasn’t one. Papa was going to lose his shop. Maybe more. “Many years ago he took on a partner.” I thought of Ludovico and imagined castrating that fucker with a serrated knife. Yeah, I got real dark when it came to people who messed with those I loved. “My papa trusted him. Loved him like a brother.”

“What happened?”

I ran my finger over Harry’s fingers, which were laid protectively over my knee. “Last year he ran, taking all of Papa’s savings from the shop. Everything. He left them with absolutely nothing but rising debt and a trail of empty bank accounts.” I shook my head, fighting the anger that was rising inside. “Papa has been fighting to keep the shop, working as much as he can, but with all his money gone…” I quickly wiped a tear that had escaped my eye.

“He has been given a little bit of time to pay the back rent. But he won’t be able to make it up. We all know that, we just never dare speak the truth aloud.” Lifting Harry’s hand, I kissed the back of it. “You lit up his world today with your compliments. With saying you would use him as a tailor and recommend him to your business friends. He would be happy in life if all he had was me and Mom and his shop. Not money or accolades, not a fancy apartment or the best car. It’s not who he is. Thank you for making him feel special today. I can’t tell you what it means to me too.”

“It’s the very least I can do.” Our hands were clasped, and I stroked his fingers and the back of his hand before bringing it to my lips. Harry’s breathing deepened and the ambient calm that had filled the car quickly crackled and became live with electricity.

“Harry,” I said, at last, my voice hoarse with need.

“Yes?”

“How far away is your apartment?”

“It’s close,” he said, his voice equally tight.

“Good.”

Chapter Fourteen

Harry’s foot pressed on the gas, and we zipped like lightning through the New York streets. We entered the Upper East Side, and I kept my face straight forward when we passed NOX. The fantasy of NOX and Maître had no place in my heart tonight. It was Harry that filled every inch. NOX was a mirage. Harry was real.

We were only two blocks from NOX when he turned right and we entered an underground parking lot. Harry pulled into the spot reserved for the penthouse. As the car ground to a halt and the engine cut out, we both gathered our breaths. Harry left the car and came around to my side. He held out his hand. I put mine in his, the butterflies in my stomach swooping in hordes, breaking free from their confines and flooding the rest of my body.

Hand in hand, Harry took me to the private elevator to the penthouse. We stepped inside, the doors shut, and the elevator began to rise. Second after strained second passed by, the air in the small space growing hotter and hotter until I thought I would lose my ability to breathe in the stifling heat.

Harry stood beside me, as still and as stoic as a marble statue. This close I could smell the addictive scent of his cologne—the mint, the sandalwood, and the musk. It was driving me insane. I clenched my thighs together, trying to stop the pressure from building as high as the penthouse floor we chased. In my peripheral vision, I saw Harry’s chest rise and fall at a heady speed. His hand in mine twitched, his jaw clenched, and when I saw the hardness in his pants, I moaned aloud.

That was all it took. That one rebel sigh from my throat caused Harry to snap. He came barreling toward me, pushing me back against the elevator wall, and he crashed his mouth into mine. In mere seconds, he was everywhere. His scent, his taste, and the press of his hard, warm body smothered my every inch. Gone was the prim and proper Harry Sinclair, and in his place was a man wild and intent on bringing me to my knees. His lips moved against mine, his tongue slipping into my mouth, as his hands searched my body, as they roved over every curve, causing me to moan and roll my head back at the feel of finally being under his ministrations.