Chapter 96
Aria's POV
I reached for my purse, eager to escape the tension that had settled between us after my failed attempt at breakfast. Devon's criticism still stung, his comparison to Ethan cutting deeper than I cared to admit. I needed space, air that wasn't heavy with his cologne and disappointment.
"Leaving so soon?" Devon's voice was low, controlled again after last night's uncharacteristic vulnerability.
I turned, keeping my expression neutral. "I have meetings at the office. The Kane Technology campaign won't design itself."
He moved toward me with that predatory grace that made my pulse quicken despite my irritation. Before I could reach the elevator, his hand caught my wrist, spinning me gently to face him.
"The contract doesn't include an option for you to walk away whenever you're upset," he murmured, his lips finding the sensitive spot just below my ear. His teeth grazed my skin, not quite a bite but a clear message of possession.
My breath hitched. "Devon, we can't—"
"Can't what?" His fingers traced up my spine, leaving a trail of heat. "Can't acknowledge that this is more than business?" He guided me backward until my legs hit the white Italian leather sofa positioned before floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking Manhattan.
"Your housekeeper could walk in," I protested weakly, even as my body betrayed me by responding to his touch.
Devon's laugh was dark, amused. "She won't be back for hours." His eyes darted to the windows. "Though the building across might get quite a show."
The thought of being visible to the offices across the way sent a conflicting rush of alarm and excitement through me. "Someone could see—"
"Let them." His voice dropped an octave as he lowered me onto the sofa, his body pressing hard against mine. "Let everyone see that you're mine."
He pushed my skirt up over my hips, his fingers finding the edge of my underwear. I gasped, eyes darting nervously to the massive windows exposing us to the neighboring skyscraper.
"Devon, the windows—" My voice caught as his fingers slipped beneath the fabric.
"Look at them," he commanded, turning my face toward the glass. "All those offices. All those people who might look over and see the great Aria Harper spread out on my sofa."
My cheeks burned with embarrassment, but I couldn't deny the rush of excitement coursing through me. His fingers moved with deliberate precision, finding exactly the right spot that made my hips rise involuntarily.
"You're soaking wet," he observed, his voice thick with satisfaction. "You like this, don't you? The risk of being seen."
I bit my lip, unable to form words as he continued his movements. My body was responding eagerly despite my mind's protests.
He unbuttoned my blouse with his free hand, exposing my breasts to the afternoon light streaming through the windows. "Perfect," he murmured, lowering his head to take one nipple in his mouth while his thumb circled my clit in rhythm.
"Devon," I gasped, torn between covering myself and surrendering completely. "What if someone in that building—"
"Let them watch," he growled against my skin. "Let them see what I get to touch." He unzipped his pants, his erection pressing hard against my thigh. "What I get to fuck."
The crudeness of his words sent another shock of arousal through me. I should have been offended by his possessiveness, his exhibition. Instead, I found myself spreading my legs wider as he positioned himself between them.
"Tell me you want this," he demanded, the head of his cock teasing my entrance.
"I want this," I whispered, my eyes locked with his.
"Louder," he commanded. "So everyone across the street can hear you beg for it."
"I want this," I said more firmly, my face flushing with a mixture of embarrassment and desire.
He entered me in one swift motion, filling me completely. I cried out, my hands grasping the leather beneath me. The cool material against my back contrasted with the heat of Devon's body above me.
"Look," he said, turning my face toward the windows again. "Look at how exposed you are. Anyone could be watching right now."
I forced myself to look at the wall of windows in the building across from us, imagining strangers watching Devon thrust into me. The thought sent waves of forbidden pleasure through my body.
Devon's pace increased, his hands gripping my hips tightly enough to leave marks. "You're mine," he growled. "For now, you're mine."
My body responded to his possessiveness, tightening around him as I approached my climax. His fingers found my clit again, circling precisely as his thrusts became more forceful.
"Devon," I gasped, feeling the tension building. "I'm going to—"
"Come for them," he commanded, gesturing toward the windows. "Show them what I can do to you."
The combination of his words, his touch, and the thrill of possible exposure pushed me over the edge. I came with an intensity that surprised me, my body arching up against him as waves of pleasure washed through me.
Devon followed moments later, his body tensing as he groaned my name, his release hot inside me.
As reality slowly returned, I felt a mixture of satisfaction and vulnerability, lying exposed before the Manhattan skyline. Devon's body covered mine protectively, his breathing heavy against my neck.
His possessiveness should have offended me. Instead, I found myself surrendering completely, forgetting the failed breakfast and last night's strange vulnerability as his arms wrapped around me, claiming me in the afternoon light.
---
I woke disoriented, afternoon sunlight slanting across Devon's living room. The space beside me on the sofa was empty and cold. Checking the time on my phone, I jolted upright. Three in the afternoon. And twelve missed calls, most from Sophia.
Panic shot through me as I quickly returned her call.
"Where have you been?" Sophia demanded without greeting. "I've been trying to reach you for hours!"
"Sorry, I was... unavailable." I glanced around the empty penthouse. "What's happening?"
"What's happening? Only that Vogue just called requesting a proposal for their winter digital campaign. And Bergdorf Goodman wants us for their holiday rollout. Oh, and three other luxury brands left messages this morning."
I blinked, struggling to process. "Wait, what? All five contacted us today?"
"Within an hour of each other," Sophia confirmed, her voice vibrating with excitement. "These are accounts we've been trying to reach for years, Aria! They all mentioned how impressed they were with our 'innovative approach' to the Kane Technology campaign. Which is strange considering we haven't even launched it yet."
Understanding dawned slowly. Devon. This had to be his doing.
"We need to meet," I said. "Get everyone together. I'll be there in forty minutes."
I ended the call and made my way to Devon's enormous marble bathroom, sinking into the deep soaking tub. As warm water enveloped me, I traced the faint marks Devon had left on my neck, remembering his intensity, his possessiveness.
These new accounts weren't coincidence. Devon had made calls, pulled strings. The question was why. Was this his way of apologizing for this morning? Or something more calculated?
I reached for my phone, hesitating before typing: [Devon, regarding the company matters, thank you.]
I stared at the message, then added: [I owe you one, beyond the contract.]