by Kait Gamble
EVERNIGHT PUBLISHING ®
www.evernightpublishing.com
Copyright© 2018 Kait Gamble
ISBN: 978-1-77339-812-9
Cover Artist: Jay Aheer
Editor: Lisa Petrocelli
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.
This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
DEDICATION
For all the dreamers
SIGHT
Sensations, 2
Kait Gamble
Copyright © 2018
Chapter One
March
Chloe shuffled through the door and with a disgusted grunt, she swung her heel against it to seal her sanctum. The moment it slammed shut, she dropped her bags on the floor.
What a supremely terrible day.
First, she was late for a meeting with the big boss. She figured he’d let it slide since it had been the first time since she’d begun working there three months prior. But nope. Then, as if the boss chewing her out in front of the entire board wasn’t bad enough to start the day, her computer decided to lock itself out of the network for some unknown reason causing hours of disruption. And finally, as she was leaving, her ex had been waiting for her. A man she never wanted to see again had decided to meet her outside and pretend their breakup, which had happened almost half a year before, had never occurred.
It had taken all her persuasive skills and some yelling to get it through his thick skull that they were never getting back together again and to leave her alone. Hadn’t it been enough that she had moved to another country to get away from him? Even then, she wasn’t entirely sure he’d understood that she was serious about never seeing him again.
Now all she wanted to do was have something to eat, definitely something to drink, the latter preferably while soaking in a nice hot bath.
Chloe flicked on a lamp and made her usual call to the excellent Chinese restaurant down the street. Knowing there would be a thirty-five-minute wait, she tidied up the mess she’d left at the door, though the thought of looking at the work she’d brought home with her was repugnant. Instead she strode to the window to stare at the city as it bustled below.
Paris.
Her mother’s home. As a child, Chloe had been told story after story about the seemingly magical city. For as long as she could remember, she’d always wanted to live there. So, the moment the opportunity arose, she took the plunge. It hadn’t taken her long to find the perfect apartment. A penthouse on the seventh floor in the 8th arrondissement was a spectacular find and she’d pounced immediately. When she finally moved into the building, it felt like home. The city had never let her down. Charles on the other hand…
Setting aside thoughts of her ex, Chloe lifted her gaze to the building across the way. The fact that she could see directly into a few of the multipaned windows used to bother her, but now it helped with the loneliness of living alone in the city. Seeing others going about their lives had a soothing quality.
That was a predilection she’d never seen coming.
Sighing, she undid the tight bun her hair had been trapped in and shook it loose. As she massaged her scalp, Chloe caught a glimpse of movement out of the corner of her eye.
She turned to the window where her attention always seemed to be drawn—right across the way. They both had penthouses. He didn’t seem to feel the need to make use of curtains or blinds, while Chloe left hers open until she went to bed. It allowed her to see inside the rooms he inhabited. While she couldn’t see everything, she was close enough to witness what was happening as if it were a modular television.
There he was. Tall, broad-shouldered, dark-haired, and so very sexy. Even across the distance, she could see that. Almost feel it. He exuded power and privilege. It was there in his bearing, the feline grace of his movements. But he was no weakling. He had the long lean body of someone who worked hard to maintain it. She could see from the way the clothing pulled on his skin as he moved that there were powerful muscles hidden beneath. Muscles she wished she could see right that moment.
He’d just gotten home from work, judging by his attire. He swiftly slipped off the jacket of his dark suit and slung it over the back of the couch. His tie quickly followed.
Chloe watched as he rolled up his sleeves to reveal sculpted forearms, and the movement of the muscle there as he undid the top buttons of his shirt. His body relaxed as he appeared to sigh with relief. She knew the feeling well.
He pulled his phone out of his jacket pocket and dialed. Probably to order a meal just as she had.
Smiling, Chloe continued to linger near the window, dusting an already glossy wooden end table as an excuse. When she looked up again, she found him still speaking but staring out through his own window. Directly at her.
Caught, Chloe stood frozen. Their eyes stayed locked until she broke the stillness with a small wave. It was nothing more than the lifting of her hand, but she thought she saw a faint smirk as he nodded. Chloe smirked back. It seemed she’d made a friend.
She didn’t have time to dwell on it before there was a knock at her door.
Letting her gaze linger on him a moment longer, she turned to retrieve her meal from one of the beaming concierges. Thanking and tipping him, Chloe then headed back into the dimly lit room.
She took a portion of the food and put it on a plate, poured the wine, then she headed to the couch to enjoy her meal. Instead of turning on the television to hear nothing but doom and gloom in the world, she opted to turn on the stereo instead. The light jazz that filtered into the room was perfect for her mood. After the day she’d had, it was all Chloe wanted.
She swayed along with the music as she enjoyed her noodles and pot stickers. It really was the simple pleasures that kept her going. Good food, beautiful home … all she needed now was good sex.
Chloe almost choked on her wine as she snorted at the thought. Not likely.
The city might have been filled with handsome men but none of them had truly caught her attention. Her gaze was drawn across the way again.
None except him.
Out of the corner of her eye, she could see him regarding the city under him in the manner of a king surveying his kingdom. Who was he? What did he do? He was obviously quite well off to be living where he was. Maybe he was a model? An actor?
Chloe shook her head. Not with those suits and regular hours. He was like clockwork. Just as she was. She pictured him in a boardroom commanding attention, everyone cowering from him. He’d be a terror in the office and a demon in bed. Did he have a soft side? Maybe one only that special someone saw?
Huffing a laugh, she stuffed a pot sticker into her mouth. Not that she’d ever find out.
When she lifted her gaze again, she found he’d grown two more arms. They wrapped around his chest from behind, the red nails clawed into his pecs, the need in the person they belonged to quite evident. When had she arrived?
The stab of jealousy was a surprise. The man wasn’t hers. Who he got naked with certainly had nothing to do with her.
She did watch with great interest as he turned to grip her face in his hands and devoured her mouth with a ferocity that Chloe herself had never experienced. She could feel the heat as if she’d been the once he’d kissed.
The darkness of the room enveloped her, the food forgotten. Everything but the two people lost in each other dropped from existence. Entranced, Chloe could do nothing but watch them.
The entangled
couple stayed framed in the window for a long moment as clothing was torn away and tossed aside. The woman was beautiful, of course. Waves of gleaming blonde hair. Long-limbed, with curves for days, there was little wonder as to why he would be interested in her.
But Chloe’s attention was on the man. And what a man he was.
He was beautifully sculpted. Taut, tanned skin and lean muscle wrapped around a tall and broad-shouldered frame. He hadn’t dimmed the lights in his place and they played on his body now, carving out shadows on his skin.
She might not know much about him, but looking at him, watching him, Chloe was sure he’d be a god in bed. The woman clinging to him certainly seemed to think so.
There was no gentleness, however. His grip on her skin was surely going to leave marks and his kisses were biting. He demanded. She gave. He took. And the woman seemed utterly content.
Chloe pressed her thighs together against the throb growing between them. When he tangled those big hands in her golden hair and tugged her head to the side to taste her skin, a needy moan left Chloe’s own lips.
The woman turned so he stood behind her as she ground her body into his. One of his hands engulfed a lush breast while the other glided down her body to slip between her thighs. He possessed some talent with his hands if her reaction was any indication.
What would that be like? What did he do with his fingers? Was he rough, parting her folds and plunging into her with need to get inside her his only consideration? Did he tease her clit with passion-slicked fingers until she begged? Would he use one? Two? Three fingers to stretch her?
Chloe hadn’t even realized she had reclined back on the sofa and had been running the tip of her fingers over the seam of her trousers as she imagined his touch on her body.
What the hell was she doing?
Her eyes lit on the couple across the way again and her body throbbed in reaction.
The woman was perched on the edge of the table now. Her long legs wound around his hips and her arms around his neck as if she couldn’t bear any space between them. His dark hair was wild. Chloe had obviously missed how that had happened but she’d had an idea. She could imagine herself gripping his hair as he devoured her mouth.
Then he started a slow trek down her body, worshipping her breasts and belly before dropping to his knees. He pushed her legs wide with his hands before his face disappeared between them. Judging from the silent scream that came from the other woman, he was quite talented with his mouth as well.
Chloe’s skin was too hot. Too tight. Her breasts throbbed and she was wet between her thighs. All from just watching him.
Pulling her blouse open, Chloe quickly tugged it off before working on the fastenings of her trousers to slip her hand underneath.
A peek across the way showed that his punishing grip was around her hips now as he thrust between the woman’s thighs. The distance he had to hitch backward before plunging back in gave her an idea of the length of him. The closed eyes and bared teeth spoke of pain-tinged bliss, and more than hinted to Chloe of his girth.
Licking her lips, she let her eyes droop closed as she imagined him between her legs. Just the thought of that hard body and even harder cock was too hard to resist. Chloe circled her clit with her fingers, enjoying the jolts of sensation that zapped through her at her delicate touch.
But he wouldn’t be gentle, would he? His touch would be rough, hard, designed to tear an orgasm from her while assuaging his own need.
What would that be like? To be with someone who’s selfishness led to her own pleasure?
Chloe’s movements grew rough, imagining it was his hands, his fingers, delving into her. Wherever she preferred soft, Chloe thrust hard. Where she wanted smooth, her movements were jarring. All the while picturing him in her head. His body hard and unyielding against her own. Eyes dark and intense as he held her gaze. His voice deep and commanding as he demanded her orgasm.
And just like that, her body erupted and staggering pleasure careened through her veins.
Muffling the cries with her hand, Chloe gentled her movements, drawing out the pleasure. But since she couldn’t imagine him being a man who cuddled after sex, she stopped. None of the pleasure had been diminished, however. Her limbs tingled while everything else seemed lighter, yet when she tried to move she found her entire body heavy with delicious lethargy. Smiling to herself, Chloe flopped back on the cushions.
Well, that was a first.
She shimmied out of her trousers and laid back on the couch clad only in her lace panties.
When was the last time she’d gotten so hot and bothered that she had to finger herself to oblivion without a second thought? There hadn’t been a time. Not to her recollection.
The windows across the way were empty now. He’d probably taken things to the bedroom. A man like that would probably go all night. Chloe’s body tingled at the thought of him devouring her over and over throughout the night, his appetite insatiable.
Sighing, she tidied up the leftovers of her meal, then her clothing.
Grabbing the wine bottle and her glass, Chloe headed to the bathroom. She hoped a bath would relax her further.
Chapter Two
May
Mason Collins rubbed at the back of his neck trying his damnedest to ease the tension. Moving to Paris had been necessary but the people were a nightmare, the city a tangled mess. And work? It seemed never-ending. Give him London any day.
Every night he’d arrive at his apartment exhausted and in need of a diversion while at the same time craving seclusion from the city.
He climbed out of the limo the moment the door opened, gave the driver a nod, then headed straight into the building, already mentally going through the roster of women he could call. None interested him.
He wanted more than a body to tumble into bed. No matter how tantalizing a body or amazing a lay, Mason wanted something more. A woman he could connect with. Not likely in a city like this.
Tugging off his tie, he pulling free the top few buttons of his shirt. He shucked his jacket and tossed it carelessly onto the couch.
He didn’t have time to look for a woman, let alone his ideal woman. It was hard enough trying to define her. Finding the woman to meet his exact criteria wasn’t likely in his office or on the way to and from work—because that’s all he had time for at the moment.
So, while his business was growing by leaps and bounds, the idea of having any profound and meaningful relationship was the first casualty.
Mason sighed and headed to his bar. He didn’t often indulge in drink, at least not until he moved to Paris. Now, as part of his nightly ritual, he had at least one from his fully stocked bar as he did his best to unwind from what was almost always a long and rigorous day.
He sipped his scotch as he stared out the window. A light flicking on in the apartment across the way caught his attention. Mason took a step to the side allowing him a better glance inside while obscuring his presence a little at the same time.
The woman in the apartment opposite called out to him like a siren. Every night she appeared like clockwork. Her long dark hair shone like ebony in the dim light of her living room. He wished she’d turn on more lights so he could see her clearly, but after what he assumed was a long day she seemed to enjoy dim lighting and the occasional glass of wine with her dinner.
Yes, he’d been watching her that closely, and he knew enough of her routine that he could predict there would be take-away arriving soon and she’d eat alone before disappearing for the rest of the night.
Mason watched her move about her apartment with a dancer’s grace. Her body was deliciously curvy where it counted. His mouth watered just thinking about her tits and ass. What he wouldn’t give to get a taste.
She looked every bit the quintessential Parisian woman. Gorgeous, polished. More than likely with a haughty attitude to match. Probably wouldn’t even give a British lad like himself a second glance.
That didn’t explain how a woman like her was alone.
Based on looks alone, she should have been beating men off with a stick. Maybe she did have an attitude problem.
Mason finished off the remainder of his drink as he watched her answer the door. The take-away. He smiled as she brought the predictable meal into the kitchen to dish it out before moving to the living room where she always ate. It was comforting to be part of a routine, even if it wasn’t his own.
He busied himself with ordering his own meal. Cooking had never crossed his mind since the best he could ever manage was beans on toast, even if he did have the energy to throw something together after a day at work.
As he dialed he watched her swaying to some unheard beat. Mason’s concentration faltered as he imagined her moving on him with the same rhythm. Fuck. There had to be a way to engineer a meeting with her.
But what did he know about her? He didn’t even have a name. Multiple scenarios flashed through his mind.
When she got home from work he could easily run into her accidentally outside their buildings. Or there was sure to be a concierge he could try to wheedle some information from. That was a bit risky, however. Throwing money at someone could be a hit-or-miss. Mason didn’t want to put the mystery woman off by trying to bribe the wrong person.
His gaze drifted back to the window as he finished his call. But she wasn’t there. He scanned the other windows on the floor until he saw her again. This time she paced back and forth as she argued with someone on the phone. Her pallor and the wide panicked look in her eyes got a rise out of his protective instinct. Who was it on the phone? Why did they put that look on her face? Mason wanted to strangle whoever it was, take her into his arms, and make her forget about whoever it was on the other end.
The shouting and gesticulating continued until she burst into tears. Mason could barely keep himself from charging across the street to shout over the phone himself before wiping away her tears.
