Cherish Me (Stark Ever After #6.5) - J. Kenner Page 0,8

when you feel that way, you come to me. Control me, Mr. Stark.”

I see the heat—and the love—flair in his eyes. “Tell me why.”

It’s a command, and I feel the force of it reverberate all through me, settling sweetly between my thighs. “Because I’ll always give you whatever you need,” I promise. “I’ll always submit to whatever you want. And you know the third reason, too.”

His brow rises. “Do I?”

I take his hand, then nod as I slide it between my legs. I’m already wet, my body thrumming with desire. “It’s because I like it, too.”

Chapter Five

The boutique hotel I found for our night on the town is called All Play & No Work, and it’s tucked into a sweet Columbus Circle location atop a ground floor retail space and two floors of offices. The building’s fourth floor serves as the lobby of the hotel, complete with an open reception area and a dark, atmospheric bar tucked away behind an ornate set of oak doors.

The entire hotel boasts only twelve rooms, all suites, with four on each of the three floors. The top level features an outdoor bar, a small gym, and a rooftop pool.

“If it’s as charming as the pictures, this is going to be a wonderful getaway,” Damien says, closing the brochure I’d handed him once our driver had reached the city.

“Oh, it will be.” I shoot him a sideways grin. “I’m ashamed of you, Mr. Stark. You usually pay more attention to what you read.”

He eyes my bare thigh. I’m wearing leather boots and a light sweater, but I’ve paired them with a soft suede skirt that’s slit high enough that I’d have a talk with Abby, my partner, if she ever wore something similar to an office presentation.

For my purposes today, though, I think it’s just right.

“I was a bit distracted,” he says dryly. “What did I miss?”

“It’s one of Jackson’s designs.”

“Is it?” He studies the brochure some more. “You’re right. I should have recognized his style. His building, too?”

I shake my head. “No. Just architectural and construction services. Sylvia said the owner bought the building to use the ground floor retail space. Reginald Aubert.”

“I know that name. The son of Jerome Aubert,” he says, referring to the world-famous jeweler whose name, in the right circles, anyway, is at least as familiar as Cartier. “Reginald hasn’t reached his father’s level yet, but I hear he’s trying. And that he’s pretty skilled himself.”

“Apparently, he contacted Jackson about doing something clever with the rest of the building, and Jackson came up with the office rental and elite hotel concept.”

“That is clever,” Damien said. “But Jackson rarely has a bad idea.”

“Runs in the family,” I say, then lean over to give him a kiss as our driver pulls to a stop by the valet stand.

“I believe you’ve met my father…”

I frown. “Good point. I guess it must skip a generation.”

As Damien laughs, the driver lowers the privacy screen. “Will there be anything else, Mr. Stark?”

“No, thank you, William,” Damien says. He’s never met the man before, but he’s one of the full-time drivers for the Stark Century Manhattan Hotel, where we’ll be going tomorrow to meet up with Dallas, Jane, and the girls. “Feel free to take the rest of the day off,” he adds, passing William a generous tip. “I’ll let them know I authorized it.”

“Thank you, sir. Are you sure you don’t want me to wait? Will you and Mrs. Stark be needing a ride to the sights? Or to dinner later?”

We had lunch with Dallas, Jane, and the girls in Southampton, and it’s now already past three, so it’s a reasonable question. Damien looks at me, and I shake my head. “That’s very kind, William, but we’ll be dining in. You enjoy your night off.”

He nods, thanks us both again, and we slide out of the car as soon as the valet opens the door. It’s Saturday, and the jewelry store closed at two, but we spend some time looking at the pieces in the window. They sparkle and shine behind glass that is surely protected and armed to the hilt.

“A law firm will be on the second floor and an accounting firm has rented the third,” I say, looking at the directory before we take the pristine elevator to the fourth floor. “Sylvia said they’re not in yet. The store and hotel only opened last week.” I flash a grin. “Everything still has that new car smell.”

He laughs as the doors slide open and we