Chapter 6

C ameron actually looked a little impressed by the elevator exclusive to the penthouse. From what we could dig up, she'd been living in a house the past five years—relatively modest at a measly one million, compared to her new budget—and I was pleasantly surprised to find our bet to impress her with penthouse luxuries was off to a good start.

"Controlled by electronic keycard," I said, flashing the sleek silver card for her before tapping it to the elevator panel. The elevator chimed, doors opening to an elevator with a glass wall, currently looking out into the back wall of the shaft. "Elizabeth Carson, the current property manager here, was kind enough to fabricate a six-hour card for us, so… for the next six hours, this card gets you in and out of the suite for the tour."

"Six-hour tours are that common here?" she said, stepping into the elevator with me, looking around, taking it in.

"Not unless you fall asleep in the middle of it. It's mostly a fancy gesture to make a client feel important." I hit the button for the penthouse, and the elevator picked up pace quickly, doors shutting and moving up to where the glass wall opened to the city, the ocean spilling out around the banks of Miami Bay before us. I spotted the sleek towers of Fontainebleau, the hotel that housed LIV, and I tried not to think about it.

"Do people often do this kind of thing just to feel important?" she said, watching the view expand as we went up.

"It's not unheard of. Luckily for us, it's pretty easy to spot people who aren't serious about buying."

She gave me a sidelong smile. "And your read of me?"

Well, wasn't that the sixty-million-dollar question? I didn't have an answer, but if she was asking, I was going to seed the thought in her head—set her to convince herself that she was genuine about buying.

Or maybe I just wanted to believe. Standing this close to her in the privacy of the elevator—it felt suddenly intimate, and I wasn't even any closer to her than I'd been on the yacht, but I felt like I could count every individual fleck of color in her eyes. "Shall I give you the honest answer," I said, "or the customer-service answer?"

A glint flashed in her eyes. "I think I can take the honest one."

"Oh, can you? Bold decision, when you don't even know yet what it is."

"Please," she laughed, smiling wider. "You're killing me."

"You might not like it." My voice came out more teasing than I'd meant it to. I didn't regret it like I should have.

"Try me."

I turned back to the view, feeling a smile on my lips. "I think you're genuinely interested. I can tell from the way you're looking out the window."

"Can you?" Her curious tone said it was working. I wasn't questioning it.

"People who are trying to feel powerful put on appearances like it's all mundane to them, to impress upon everyone just how important and used to luxury they are. You… look like you're seeing what's actually there and are genuinely reacting. For someone willing to create an entire alter-ego to hide herself, you're pretty honest."

She gave me an odd look, a smile and furrowed brows. "No wonder," she said.

"No wonder what?"

She turned back to the door just as we slowed to a stop, the elevator chiming overhead. "No wonder you have those eyes that seem to see through anything."

My body flushed again under the weight of the comment—the context from LIV of thinking about her naked—and it took my entire force of will not to lose myself in the thoughts again. The door opening to the penthouse hallway helped distract me, and I gathered myself to walk ahead of her, just focusing on keeping my chest out and my shoulders back.

"We learn to be a bit perceptive," I said. "Well, Cameron—this would be your entry hallway. Straight ahead is the living room suite, but you can make a right into the kitchen or a left into the office, in case you're bringing business clients or hiring staff. Or if you just want to head straight into the kitchen after a day at work for a drink. All the doors are unlocked via your keycard, for extra security. We're going straight ahead, into the living room suite."

"For the dramatic entrance?"

"For the dramatic entrance," I said, tapping the keycard to the scanner. The door clicked, and I pushed it open into the two-story expanse of the living room, a full wall of windows overlooking the bay. Just as Elizabeth Carson had promised, the systems had been set up beforehand, and the lights flicked on as I opened the door, and the speaker system started up with a light, ambient electronic soundtrack.

"Oh, wow." Cameron stepped into the room behind me, turning slowly, looking at it all with—there was almost like a childlike wonder in her eyes, a gleam, a sparkle in her expression like a kid's first time seeing a big Christmas display. There was something uncharacteristically… cute about it, something I wasn't used to seeing from clients. She let out a small laugh, walking quickly, a bounce in her step, to the wall of windows, turning her gaze slowly to take it all in. "Oh, you weren't messing around with this one."

"This is a large, east-facing window, which isn't your typical ideal—south-facing windows are generally the gold standard, of course—but here in Miami Beach, the view of the sunrise over the ocean is spectacular."

"I can imagine. Look at it."

I could look at it, but frankly, I was more interested in looking at her. She was a completely different person from earlier, a look in her eyes like she was moved to deep emotion, and I suddenly found myself wondering about her story. She'd come from a solid middle-class upbringing, according to our research—not extravagantly wealthy, but not wanting for much—but the way she looked was the way some people who had made it from nothing looked at some of the properties we showed. We'd had a client once who was an ex-con and had been homeless for almost a year once, and he'd still been so humble even after his success starting a company that he'd cried in the middle of a tour of a luxury house. Cameron looked like she was close to that. Too close for it to make sense why.

It boded well for our ability to sell. Just maybe… too well? Something didn't seem right.

"Of course," I said, "with a two-story window, closing the blinds the regular way isn't exactly practical." I gestured her to the touchscreen wall panel, where I flicked through a few buttons and opened the window control. A set of mechanical blinds slid down over the windows at the touch of a button, and Cameron smiled wider.

"Oh, the central computer? Well, aren't we living in the future?"

"Out of cybersecurity concerns, the entire smart home network is a closed, hardwired system. You can connect your devices to it, but only if you enable the open network. Of course, they say it's for cybersecurity, but my guess is that now that wi-fi connected smart homes are accessible to everyone, they had to do something else to make it feel extravagant." I showed her through the screen, hitting the button to open the windows again and taking a few quick swipes across the features—lights, windows, security systems, sound systems. "You can control the music from here."

"Oh, let me try." She cut in, almost giggling now, and flicked through the controls, switching through the music. "Are you ready to hear my worst trait?"

"More than you know."

"I go to the LIV Sunday party, but I'm actually a sucker for EDM." She hit a button, and the music changed, a dreamy trance number with a four-on-the-floor rhythm and fat synths that I think I'd heard on the radio a lot recently. "Go ahead," she laughed. "Make fun of me."

"You could do worse. I had a K-pop phase."

She laughed, eyes sparkling. " Had? Where's the fun in that?"

I couldn't fight off the smile. "If I get back into it, I'll let you know. Would you like to see the kitchen or the office next? There's a feature I'd like to show off in each one."

"Oh, do tell."

"Well, the office has a meeting room with a full-wall touch screen I think you'll love for designing. And the kitchen? The kitchen has a fully stocked bar Elizabeth said we can help ourselves to."

She licked her lips, a smile playing on the corners of her expression, and it gave me a nervous knot in my throat again. "Are you going for a Cosmo again?"

"No, I'm…" I pursed my lips through a smile. "I think I want something more adventurous."

"Good. I'll make you something."

"Oh. That's not typically how this—"

"Too bad." She turned on her heel and, with a spring to her step, went on ahead of me. I stumbled a little keeping up, because apparently she was the one taking me on a tour now.

Cameron wasn't the kind of person you stopped once she started something, though. I was learning quickly not to get in her way.

∞∞∞

"The rooftop," I said, pushing out through the door, still holding the pineapple margarita Cameron had given me in one hand. "I hope you're not afraid of heights."

"Oh, I see," she said, stepping out behind me and stopping, turning slowly, taking it in. "You saved the best for last."

"So classic it's almost a cliché, I know. Want me to take it back and we can start the tour over from up here?"

The rooftop was stunning, admittedly, especially with the light of the sunset still casting the ocean in reds and golds, with a covered terrace that had its own outdoor bar and seating area, a hot tub on a raised platform, and of course, the infinity pool, worked in alongside a green area with real, live plants. Cameron walked ahead of me to the railing, leaning against it, looking out over the view, and she let out a quiet, breathless murmur.

"A good place to soak up some sun," I said. "You know—if you're short for places like that in Miami Beach."

"And have my own rooftop party. Look at this," she laughed, walking to the poolside. "You should have told me. I'd have brought a swimsuit."

"Well… we can always schedule another tour."

She turned back to me with a sly smile. "I suppose. Or we could go skinny dipping."

I felt my face prickle. It wasn't like I could criticize, with how much time I'd been spending picturing her naked. "I don't think Elizabeth would approve of that."

She laughed, and then, with a light flaring up in her eyes, she slipped her jacket off. "She doesn't need to know," she said, her voice dropping into that husky murmur again, and I felt my head spin—my libido went suddenly off into the stratosphere, and I had to pull hard to rein it back in.

"I—Cameron," I said, my face burning. "This isn't—"

"Mm. You said it's a six-hour window, right?" She gave me that playful pout again, draping her jacket over the back of a chair before she undid the top button of her shirt. "I think we have plenty of time for a swim."

"I'm not—we can't—" I had no idea what I was even trying to say. Words felt slippery right now and meaningless besides. The only thing real was Cameron, and the swoop of her bare collar as she undid her shirt buttons, the hint of baby blue from a bra with lace detailing. Not wearing anything special. She was a lingerie designer, of course her nothing special was—

She laughed, jerking me out of my trance. "Do you need me to turn away?"

"No—well." I scrunched up my face. "Maybe… I mean. Yes?"

"You're so cute when you're embarrassed, London." She slipped her shirt off, and the way she looked by the pale light on the covered terrace, by the glow of the sunset casting her in sharp contrasts—the smooth curve of her waist, up to the band of her bra—I shook my head, hard.

"Cameron. This is completely inappropriate."

"I'm not hearing you say you don't want it, though."

"I…" I should have just said that. It would have wrapped things up more tidily. But I couldn't take my eyes off her waist, off her bare arms, off the subtle detailing of her bra.

"London?" She drew out my name again, tasting it, her eyes flaring as she undid the button on her pants. My breath hitched in my throat, and I found myself helpless to do anything other than watch as she stepped out of her heels and then, painstakingly slowly, pulled her pants down, stripping down to a matching set of baby blue bra and panties.

There were so many reasons not to—so many reasons to step back, to be sensible, to be cautious. I couldn't focus on any of them right now. I remembered the way she'd touched me on Sunday, her fingertips dancing over my body, exploring me at just the lightest touch. I wanted to do the same. Wanted to feel her.

"You might as well join me," she said, her voice husky, stained with desire. The sound of her voice like that hung off of me, a weight of how much I needed her building in my core, and I couldn't tear my eyes away as she walked closer. My heart pounded as she closed the gap, the music fading into the background, the taste of the muggy Miami summer heat in the air around us warm on my tongue and mingling with the smell of Cameron's perfume. Her eyes up close—that crisp blue with the halo of sea green—they pierced straight through me as she put her hands to my collar, undoing the buttons on my shirt. I found myself helpless to stop her—that nothing could make me want to stop her.

"Cameron… we shouldn't…"

" Should, shouldn't. I'm so tired of those old words. Let's just do what we want to… just for tonight." She bit her lip, working down to the last button on my shirt, undoing it and slipping my shirt open, and her gaze ravaged me—roaming over me, drinking in every inch of me. " God, London, you're beautiful. I really do wish I could take you aside and just spend hours dressing you and undressing you… I could design a whole line just based around you."

Those husky, whispered compliments were like melted chocolate, rich and indulgent over my senses, and I wanted to drink them in. I bit my lip, looking away. "I bet you say that to everyone."

She laughed, a low and murky laugh as she took my drink from my hand, setting it down on the table and turning back to slip my shirt gently, slowly down my shoulders. My body ached for more, always more. "I'm starting to wonder if that's just what you say to get me to insist how special you are…"

It absolutely was. "Just that I'm sure you could have people… lining up for you."

"I've been with a few people. But never like this… never as Cameron."

I wanted to say something sharp, some kind of retort, something like you'd think your husband would be on that list, but I didn't want her to stop. I moved my arms with her, letting her take my shirt off, and she dropped it to the floor. I closed my eyes with an aching pleasure as she moved her fingers down to my belt, working it undone. "Here I thought… maybe you got off on the whole alter-ego thing."

"Hardly. It's out of necessity. It's so electrifying with you, London. Oh—I know I shouldn't," she laughed as she opened my belt and worked my pants undone. "But you have such an effect on me…"

She wasn't the only one. "Cameron…"

"I love that," she murmured, pulling my pants down. "Hearing you say my name. Don't stop."

"No—that's not—I'm trying to—"

"Mm?" She dropped my pants to the ground, looking back up at me with a devilish smile. "You're trying to what, London?"

"I'm trying to tell you we can't…" I winced. "We shouldn't…"

She reached back and undid the clasp on her bra, and then I was gone. She dropped it to the ground, and a swooping feeling drove deep into the pit of my stomach at the sight of her—small, pert breasts, pink nipples firm, her skin pearlescent in the dimming sunset. I felt hypnotized—like my body responded to her instead of to myself—and I watched in that trance as she slipped her panties off, too, dropping them to the floor.

Cameron was perfect. Achingly so. Every inch of her was impossible to take my eyes off of, and the need in my chest, in my stomach, my core, my thighs, everywhere in my body ached, desperately, to have her. It felt like I'd break if I didn't.

"You too, London," she murmured. And again, my body responded to her automatically—I pulled my bra up over my head, feeling my face burn as she took me in, eyes flaring with desire. All I could think was how I wanted, needed her to keep looking at me—to keep wanting me in that visceral way she did. That raw, naked look of desire she'd given me in the club—I needed it. My panties fell to the floor, and I felt my whole body light up under her attention, her eyes taking in every inch of me.

"You," she whispered, laying a hand gently on my collar and trailing down between my breasts, "are even more magnificent than I thought. Like a goddess, or… or a muse…"

I'd thought it was bad on Sunday that I was ready to have sex with a woman I'd just met. All she had to do right now was ask, and I'd have sex with a married woman.

"And if you did," I said, hearing my voice like it was coming from somewhere else. "Design a line based around me. What would you call it?"

"Oh, I like this question," she laughed. "Any requests?"

"You're the artist."

"I might have to take my time with you. Think it over. You know I don't like to rush things." She took my hand, and she tugged me towards the pool. I stepped out of my heels, feeling the heat of the rooftop tiles under my bare feet, and I let her lead me. "Well? You're swimming with me, right?"