“You have an eidetic memory,” I concluded. How hadn’t I thought of that until just now?
Charlotte nodded. “I don’t often tell people because they get weird about me remembering stuff. Especially if we meet with shadier characters. People are more likely to let something slip or leave a paper lying around that they shouldn’t when they don’t know someone is there who can almost perfectly recall every detail of the meeting.”
A knock on my door startled me, and I realized we’d parked, and Fenton was asking permission to open the door. Smart man. In all the time he’d been with me, I’d never had a woman who wasn’t family in my car. And if I hadn’t had such a tight rein on my desire, opening the door without permission might have been the last thing he ever did.
I rapped my knuckles once to let him know it was okay, then I reluctantly let go of Charlotte and let him help her out of the car. Once I was out and on my feet, I lifted my woman back into my arms and strode for the private elevator only a few steps from my designated parking spots.
“Take a few days off, Fenton,” I called. “We won’t be leaving anytime soon.”
Charlotte scowled at me. “I can’t stay here. I didn’t even bring any clothes.”
“You won’t need them,” I quipped.
“I’ll let you know when I need you next, Fenton.”
“Yes, sir!” There was a smile in his voice, and when I turned around in the elevator to face the opening, I saw him trying to suppress laughter as he watched me carry Charlotte off like a caveman. He gave me two thumbs-up, and I chuckled as the metal door slid shut, leaving us alone. Finally.
It was beyond tempting to put my girl’s legs around my waist and press her into the wall where I could devour her mouth and grind my steel erection into the heat between her legs. But Charlotte wasn’t quite ready for things to escalate to where I wanted them to go, and if I let go of any threads to my control, that would be it.
We reached the bottom level of the penthouse in seconds, and the elevator opened into a large, resplendent foyer. It was marble and wood, but I’d gone for a homier vibe with warm colors. The banister and sconces were black wrought iron, as well as the chandelier hanging from the vaulted ceiling.
I set Charlotte on her feet and gestured around the space. “You can change anything you want. Hell, if you want to gut the place and redo every tiny detail, then do it. I want this to be your home, baby.”
All she said was, “Holy shit.”
“That’s three,” I drawled.
She didn’t respond, just wandered around looking at everything until at last, she faced me again. “It’s gorgeous, Rhett. It’s...it’s like the designer was in my head,” she laughed. “Can I...can I see the rest of it?”
I smiled and held out my hand. She hesitated, but her rosebud lips were curving up just the tiniest bit, and it was only a few moments before she placed her palm in mine.
She didn’t hate it and wasn’t pushing to leave, which meant we were making progress.
Our home was just under ten thousand square feet, so the tour took a while. It was worth it, though, because Charlotte relaxed little by little, becoming more animated. But there was also a little longing in her glances, especially when I pointed out the room that would become a nursery, and I didn’t understand why.
I ended the walkthrough at the master suite. Opening the double doors, I stood back to allow her to walk in ahead of me. This time, she remained rooted to her spot, and so many emotions were churning in her eyes that I couldn’t get a grasp on what she was thinking.
“This house is amazing, Rhett. I love everything about it. And it would be so easy to give in to the temptations you keep throwing at me. But...I just...” She shook her head and backed up a couple of steps. “I can’t.”
She looked like she was going to run, and I growled, beyond frustrated and out of patience. Closing the gap between us in two strides, I grabbed her waist and threw her over my shoulder in a fireman’s hold. Then I stalked to the bed and tossed her onto the mattress.
“What the hell are you doing?” she grunted as she bounced twice before sitting up and glaring at me.
“Four,” I said flatly.
Charlotte tried to scramble across the bed, and I just sighed as I grabbed her ankle and dragged her back to the middle. Keeping a hold of her with one hand, I yanked out the drawer to my nightstand and retrieved some scraps of black silk material. I dropped three of them next to her and grabbed her left arm, raising it over her head so I could secure the piece I was still gripping to the headboard. When she realized what I was doing, her jaw dropped, and she stared at me in shock long enough for me to secure her other arm.