13. Aspen

CHAPTER 13

Aspen

“Is it possible to be physically attracted to an inanimate object?” I asked, my mouth half gaping as I delicately traced my fingers along the gorgeous exterior of the car Crossland had pulled up in.

It was cherry red and sleek and aerodynamic and just screamed rare.

I’d never seen a car like it. Not even the ones in the James Bond movies came close to touching this one.

“It is.” Crossland beamed with pride as he walked around to the passenger side, opening my door for me and ushering me in.

I sat stiffly in the seat, afraid if I moved the wrong way, I would tarnish the leather.

Crossland laughed as he got behind the wheel. “You can relax,” he said, noting my rigid stance.

“Speak for yourself,” I said, barely allowing myself enough movement to speak as he pulled onto the busy city street. “I don’t even want to begin to know what this car cost.”

“It’s a ’64 Ferrari 250 LM,” he said, as if I was supposed to know exactly what that meant.

“Wait, is this the car that ended up in the bet between you and Ethan?”

Crossland slid his hand over the steering wheel, the touch almost loving. “This is the one.”

I swallowed hard, wondering why on earth he’d picked this car to transport us to whatever event he had planned for tonight. This car was the catalyst for our agreement in the first place—a piece of his father’s past that was so important to Crossland, he’d rather hire a fake girlfriend than lose it.

“Are we going to a rare car show tonight?” I asked, wondering if that’s why he decided to risk bringing this car out on the town tonight.

Crossland chuckled, shaking his head. “No, why would we be doing that?”

“Because I may not know everything, but I do know that this car is incredibly important to you. Why risk bringing it out? What if something happens to it?”

“You’re not wrong about it being important to me,” he said, turning down another street. “This was my father’s car. He absolutely cherished it.” A wistful smile shaped his lips as he continued. “I remember being eight years old and him taking me for my first ride in it. The leather still smells the same, the purr of the engine still makes my heart race, and I can almost hear him crooning out his favorite rock songs as we drove for hours, just me and him.”

Emotion clogged my throat, and I couldn’t stop myself from reaching over and laying my palm over his thigh in a comforting gesture. Crossland draped his free hand over the top of it before intertwining our fingers like it was the most effortless and easy thing in the world.

And in reality, it was easy.

Things had been easy between us since the second week we struck this agreement. And we’d only grown closer. Every day I got to know him, I liked him just a little bit more. I knew that was trouble, knew that I shouldn’t be feeling the way I did, but I couldn’t deny it. I was pretty smitten with this man, the same cocky billionaire that I thought I would enjoy sassing for three months.

Joke’s on me, I found myself excited just to be around him, just to hear the sound of his voice in the morning or feel him in the bed next to me while we slept at night.

Dangerous.

I knew it was incredibly dangerous ground to walk on, feeling the way I was.

I hadn’t depended on or counted on anyone in years, and I promised myself I never would. But here I was, making room for Crossland in a life that was already full. Sharing things with him that I hadn’t shared with anyone in a long time, and knowing that somehow, he would understand. Because he knew me, and I knew him. We were so alike in so many ways.

Crossland smiled down at me before returning his attention to the road. “And we’re not going to any event tonight,” he said. “I’m just taking you to dinner.”

“What?” I asked, shock rattling through me. “I would have been fine with having Len driver us. You didn’t have to bring out your father’s prized car⁠—”

“I wanted to see you in it,” he said so matter-of-factly that it stopped any response I may have formed.

My heart expanded, pounding furiously as I tried to work out the meaning behind those words.

This felt important, but it couldn’t be that important, right? This had to be just another layer of him that he was sharing with me as his fake girlfriend and very real friend.

Very real friends who knew the most intimate details about each other ’s bodies, sure, but friends.

That’s what we agreed to in the beginning, and beyond that, I was just hired help. An actress playing a role, and I had to wonder if I was doing what so many of the stars do.

Was I falling for my leading man?

I mean, it would make sense. Crossland was absolutely somebody worth loving. Not only for his sense of adventure and irresistible confidence or his skills in other departments, but for his heart. He was a genuinely good man, regardless of how many ridiculous jokes he would crack when things would get serious in order to break the tension.

He’d be easy to fall in love with. If I was going to allow myself to do such a thing.

Which I wouldn’t because he’d hired me for one thing and one thing only. And we only had a month left before all of that would be done, and I’d be left with this wonderful, adventurous memory of my time with him.

Maybe I’d get the occasional friendly text or, if I was very lucky, a casual meetup. But it couldn’t be more. Because as Crossland had so expertly displayed and told me over the last two months, he wasn’t somebody that could be tied down. And why would I want to tie him down when he lived for adventure? When he lived for the next thing and the next thing and the next thing, never settling, never standing still.

I knew I should talk to him about it. Knew I should tell him that I was feeling apprehensive about the end of our contract being only thirty days away. I should tell him that every time I thought about it a pit opened up in my stomach, threatening to swallow me whole. But the idea of me telling him, and him giving me one of his beautifully charming and gentle rejections?

I don’t think I could go on pretending for another thirty days if he did that. So maybe I was a coward, but I didn’t want to ruin the last of something that had become so beautiful to me.

Crossland pulled up to a restaurant I’d seen raved about on social media, electing to park his car himself before he escorted me up to the rooftop terrace.

The space was free of any other patrons, soft music tinkling around the space, the beautiful twinkling city stretching out beneath the night sky beyond the railings of the balcony. A table for two was illuminated by flickering candlelight, and I found myself quite literally unable to speak.

“For someone who boldly claims he’s not a romantic,” I finally said when I found my voice again. “This is giving romance.”

Crossland settled in the chair across from me, his grin easy and open. “I have to say, I did have fun planning this,” he said, pairing it with a little shrug. “Maybe you bring out the romantic in me.”

I wanted to groan, to whine in agony when he said things like that. He was always so good at being charming, and I couldn’t help but wish it was real. But it was real enough, and he had been kind enough to plan this night for me, with no cameras and no friends watching and analyzing our relationship. Just us.

I wouldn’t waste those efforts.

The servers brought us a pre-selected dinner course, complete with a mushroom risotto appetizer and champagne. We fell into easy conversation between bites of what was the best food I’d ever tasted, and I found myself slipping just a little bit more in the resiliency of shielding my heart from him.

“I love that your mom was a baker,” I said after he’d recanted a story about her impulse baking at two a.m., and him waking up to the smell of sugar and chocolate in the middle of the night. “Especially when she could have had any desserts she wanted brought in.”

“It was the process for her,” Crossland said. “She loved exploring new recipes, and then watching us devour every bite. She was a marvelous cook too, but baking was where her true joy was. Beyond the businesses that her and my father ran together.”

“They sound amazing,” I said, marveling at the stories he shared with me about his parents.

“Bristol and I were lucky. We had the best parents anyone could ask for.” He visibly swallowed, his eyes apologetic. “I’m sorry if that sounds like I’m bragging.”

“Please don’t apologize for something like that. I love hearing about your past, especially the pieces that made you so happy. And it’s not your fault that my parents were the complete opposite. If anything, I should be the one apologizing to you. It’s not fair that people like my biological parents are still here and yours...” My words stumbled over the emotion building inside me.

I had no experience with grief, not in the way that Crossland did, and I had no idea if I was miss-stepping with my words. I didn’t want to take the trust he’d given me by blundering my responses.

“I suppose there’s nothing we can do about either of our situations,” he said. “The only thing we can do is make the best with the time we have. I learned that the day I lost them. How quickly something can end.” He pushed his food around on his plate, not really seeing it. “I also learned that sometimes things can be avoided, if only the proper preparation had been in place.”

“How so?” I asked.

“My parents died because there wasn’t a level one trauma center nearby,” he explained, and my heart twisted in my chest. “I’ve been doing my best to support local hospitals, giving them the funds they need to ensure they have the best resources possible. I’m actually dedicating a brand-new trauma center at a hospital in upstate New York in their memory in a couple weeks. It won’t bring them back, but I feel like they’d be proud.”

“They definitely are,” I said, swiping at the tears that had pooled in my eyes. “They’d be beyond proud of you, Crossland. You took a tragic situation and turned it into something so beautiful and you help so many people. Not everyone would have done the same.”

He smiled at me, reaching across the table to grab my hand. “You did,” he said. “So maybe we’re the same.”

I chuckled softly. “Yes, I am the most esteemed of baristas in all the land, using my trauma as a work ethic, where you expanded an empire from yours.”

He flashed me a chiding look, but smiled at my tease, knowing that I did it because that’s what he liked, a proper balance of serious and silly.

After dinner, Crossland took the long way home, music filtering through the speakers in the Ferrari as a comfortable silence fell over our previous non-stop conversation. It felt absolutely magical to be in this car with him after the stories he told me, heading back to his apartment like it was the most natural thing in the world.

I spent nights over there more often than not, so much so that I had everything I needed at the edge of my fingertips.

The sweet silence came with us as we rode up in the elevator, and walked into his apartment, my heels clicking on the hardwood floors as I made my way to his bedroom. I was more than ready to get out of this dress, no matter how pretty it was.

I slipped out of my heels, padding barefoot into the walk-in closet that now had a whole section just for me.

Crossland followed me inside, his fingers grazing the back of my neck as he reached for my zipper to help me out of the dress.

A warm shiver followed where his fingers lingered as he brought the zipper down with such patience and gentleness, the move indicating that we had all the time in the world.

Right now, in this moment, there was no ticking clock, no expiration date.

There was just Crossland, this incredible man helping me out of a dress.

The straps of the dress loosened once he reached my lower back, the thin strips of silk sliding down my shoulders. He took a step back, giving me the space to choose what to do next.

I could change into a pair of my favorite pajamas, the ones he’d stocked a drawer with for me, and head straight to bed, turning on Netflix for good measure.

Or I could forget about the clothes and head straight for a nice long bath.

Whatever I wanted, I knew he’d support. I knew it as easily as I knew I could trust him with the darkest parts of myself, the ones others had run away from.

But not him.

Never him.

I let the dress fall in a mess of silk at my feet, stepping out of it and turning around to face him.

His chest rose with his intake of breath, his icy blue eyes widening as he took in the sight of me. It was nothing he hadn’t seen before, except for the new matching underwear set that was made of black lace, but he still looked at me like he’d just unwrapped a brand-new present. Like I was something he’d been looking for his entire life.

That look was everything—exhilaration and need, heat and comfort. I lived for that look, for his praise, for the way he made me feel like an absolute queen.

“You’re stunning,” he said, his voice rough and low.

A flush raked my body, but I smiled, doing my best to take the compliment. I was almost getting used to it after being with him for two months, and I was certainly getting better at accepting them. Of course, he made it so easy to believe his words.

He undid his tie, chucking it behind him before I helped him unbutton his dress shirt, sliding it over his muscled arms until it dropped to the floor. I took my time grazing my fingers along his broad chest, my touch unhurried.

We’d had plenty of times where clothes were torn and ripped in a desperate need to get to the other, but tonight…tonight felt different.

I kissed his chest, my fingers trembling slightly as I undid his belt, then his zipper, and he stepped out of his pants before cupping my face in his hands, capturing my mouth in his.

The kiss was slow, almost sweet compared to the ones that had come before it. And I wasn’t sure if it was because we’d laid ourselves bare earlier, opening up subjects that tore at both of our hearts or if it was just us, but I was here for it.

Here for him.

Here for all of it.

Crossland broke our kiss only long enough to unclasp my bra and slide my thong down my legs, then made quick work of his own boxer-briefs. A breath later and I was in his arms, him sweeping me off my feet and kissing me before carrying me out of the closet and to his bed.

The city sparkled in the night outside of his floor-to-ceiling windows, illuminating the room in the softest silver glow as he laid me gently on the bed.

He kissed me again, his tongue gliding against mine in a way that continuously made me ache in places I never knew could ache, and I wrapped my arms around him, beckoning him to come closer.

I shifted, spreading my legs to make room as he settled between them with the most delicious weight.

“Crossland,” I whispered, like speaking too loudly would break this charged moment we were in.

“Mmm?” he murmured against my neck where he was currently laying a line of soft kisses down.

I arched against him, my heat just grazing his hard length.

“I want you,” I said, breathless as his touch roamed over my body, every graze a strike to a match.

“Do you?” he asked, leaning up to smile down at me. “Let me be sure.” He slid his hand over my stomach and between my thighs, dragging his fingers right through my slit.

I gasped, my back bowing slightly as I arched into the touch.

His smile only deepened. “You do want me, don’t you, kitten?”

“Mmhmm,” I answered, reduced to incoherent responses.

“How bad?” he asked, pumping his fingers inside me, his thumb teasing my now pulsing clit.

My eyes snapped open, a new need unfurling inside of me. “Now,” I said. “I need you now, Crossland.”

He laughed softly. “So demanding,” he said, stroking me again before shifting slightly, his body leaning toward his nightstand⁠—

“No,” I said. “Just you.”

He went still above me, eyes returning to mine as he looked down at me. “Aspen?”

“Can we?” I asked. “You know my history, I know yours. I’m on the pill. Can I have all of you, Cross?”

Something guttered in his eyes, and he shuddered slightly above me.

“I’ve never done that with anyone before,” he said, and my heart stumbled over itself.

“We don’t have⁠—”

“I want to,” he said, spreading my thighs wider as he slicked his thick head through my wetness. “If you want me. If you’re sure.”

I gripped his back, my nails digging into his muscles there as he teased me.

“Please,” I begged, not caring at all how desperate I sounded. I was desperate, the need to feel all of him inside me an unruly hunger demanding to be sated. “I want all of you and nothing else.”

“Fuck, kitten,” he said when I clenched my thighs around his hips, urging him inside me another inch. “You feel so damn good.”

“More,” I demanded, my voice breathless as my heart raced against my chest. I’d given myself over wholly to the demands of my body, to the begging of my heart to be as close to him as humanly possible.

Crossland held my gaze, his fingers gently pushing my hair back as he sank in another inch, then another and another until he finally bottomed out inside me.

“God,” I sighed, wetting my lips as I tried to catch my breath.

Sensation sparked along the edges of my body, the feel of him inside me with no barriers between us shaking something loose that felt a lot like a pulsing explosion waiting to fire. “You’re amazing,” I continued, moving beneath him until he trembled.

“Fuck, Aspen,” he growled, slowly thrusting in time with my movements. “I…goddamn, you feel so fucking good.”

I reached up, gripping his neck to bring his mouth to mine, needing to touch every inch of him I could reach as he slid home inside me over and over again.

Our kiss was an intense tangle of tongues and teeth and ragged breaths as he rocked into me, me arching to meet his every thrust.

We collided together, each time we made connection only feeding the building fire inside me. My pleasure stretched and purred and pulsed, growing larger with every kiss, every touch, every word that spilled from his lips.

“Aspen,” he groaned, drawing out of our kiss to hold my gaze. “Aspen.”

I cupped his face as he emphasized my name, wanting so badly to confess every emotion racing through my heart at that very moment, but all I could do was silently show him instead.

Tingles built along my spine, everything inside of me coiling so tightly I was certain I would combust any second.

So much…there was so much of him, so much of the way I felt, so much of the way I needed him.

“Cross,” I said, sighing his name as I felt my release climbing up my body. “God, Cross.”

He upped his pace, his eyes on me and conveying too much for me to process while he slid an arm beneath my lower back, hauling me up as he continued to thrust into me.

The angle had him stroking those places deep inside me that set off a chain reaction that tore through me so thoroughly I couldn’t help but cry out. I clenched around him, fluttering around his cock as I came, arching into it to ride it all the way through.

“Fuck,” he groaned, hardening inside me another degree before his own release followed mine.

He dipped his forehead, leaning it against mine as we caught our breath, our bodies involuntarily shivering or jolting from the aftershocks.

“That was…” I breathed the words.

Sex with Crossland was always incredible, but this time? This time⁠—

“Everything,” he said, gently shifting off of me and rolling to the side, keeping me close. “Everything,” he repeated, his chest rising and falling quickly.

Everything.

Yeah, it had been absolutely everything.

It had been all of me.

I’d given him every piece of me, and now I had no clue what he’d do with them in the end.