Chapter 37: 53 Floors of Trouble

The city blurred by outside the tinted windows of the black Bentley as it cruised through the night. New York lights glimmered like stars scattered across the streets, but inside the car — the temperature was rising.

Katherine had slipped her heels off and curled her legs up onto the seat, her feet resting casually on Sebastian’s lap. Her red silk dress shimmered in the faint glow of passing traffic lights, its slit revealing just enough to tease him into distraction.

“Kate…” Sebastian warned, keeping his eyes on the road.

She smiled innocently, dragging a perfectly manicured toe along the inseam of his trousers. “Yes, Mr. Mason?”

His knuckles whitened on the steering wheel.

“You’re playing with fire,” he muttered.

“Oh no,” she whispered, trailing her foot higher. “I’m pouring gasoline on it.”

Sebastian inhaled sharply, jaw tight, knuckles even tighter.

He didn’t look at her, but the low growl in his throat said enough.

“You’re lucky I don’t pull over and take you right here.”

Katherine giggled. “Then drive faster.”

By the time they reached the underground parking of the high-rise building, both of them were breathless with anticipation. Sebastian parked in his private spot, shut off the engine, and within seconds was out of the car, opening her door like a gentleman with very ungentlemanly intentions.

They entered the elevator together.

Only the soft hum of the ascending lift filled the space as Sebastian pressed the button for the 53rd floor.

Silence.

Except for the heat between them.

Katherine glanced at him through her lashes, her body just a breath away from his. He looked like a man on the edge — suit impeccable, expression burning.

As the elevator climbed, he turned toward her slowly.

And kissed her.

Hard.

Desperate.

Their bodies collided, lips locked, her back pressed against the cool mirrored wall of the lift. One of his hands was in her hair, the other at her waist, pulling her closer than possible.

Ding.

Floor 53.

He grabbed her hand, didn’t even give her time to fix her hair. They stepped into the penthouse — marble floors, high ceilings, an entire wall of windows looking over the city.

And not a single word.

Not until he had her pinned against the front door, breath hot against her cheek.

“God, I missed you…” he rasped, his voice breaking at the edge.

Katherine laughed between kisses, breathless, pulling at his tie.

“Sebastian, it’s been few weeks.”

He pulled back just enough to look into her eyes, his own full of something raw and possessive.

“The longest weeks of my life.”

And then he kissed her again.

Harder.

Deeper.

And this time, they didn’t stop.

---

Clothes came off like whispers — soft, urgent, wordless. His jacket hit the floor. Her dress slipped down her body like it was made to obey his touch. The silk pooled at her ankles, forgotten.

His lips found her collarbone. Her hands tangled in his hair. They stumbled through the entryway, barely making it past the wall before the heat between them exploded into something feral.

“Bedroom,” she gasped.

“No time.” His voice was rough, gravel and hunger.

“You. Right here. Now.”

She wrapped her legs around his waist and he lifted her effortlessly, pressing her back to the wall, kissing her like a man who had gone without water in a desert and finally found the ocean.

They were fire and gasoline.

There was nothing gentle — not in the way his hands roamed her skin, not in the way she whispered his name like a prayer and a curse all in one breath.

“Sebastian…” she moaned, arching into him as his mouth explored every inch of her.

“You drive me insane,” he growled against her skin.

“I love it.”

Somehow, they found their way to the massive leather sofa in the living room. It wasn’t graceful — they bumped into a chair, she laughed, he cursed, then grinned. But it didn’t matter.

Nothing mattered except the two of them.

He laid her down like she was something sacred and devoured her like she was something forbidden.

And when their bodies finally came together — it wasn’t just sex. It was chaos. Passion. A storm they’d both tried to outrun, but failed.

She cried out his name when she came. He kissed her through it, whispering, “That’s my girl…”

And when he followed, shuddering, gripping her like she was the only real thing left in his world, he buried his face in her neck and just breathed.

“Mine,” he murmured against her skin.

“Always.”

They collapsed into each other, breathless and sweaty, tangled limbs and messy hair, the city still glowing beyond the windows but forgotten completely.

There was no boardroom. No drama. No council. No rules.

Just them.

One hell of a night still ahead.

And not a single ounce of restraint left between them.

---

The world outside was still turning — the city humming, traffic pulsing, stars blinking high above the glass skyline. But inside the penthouse, time had slowed to a breathless pause.

Katherine lay across Sebastian’s chest, her body warm and soft against him, her fingers lazily tracing idle patterns along his skin. Spirals. Swirls. Nonsense shapes that meant everything and nothing — except that she was still there, still close, still his.

His arm was wrapped around her, strong and possessive, but the grip had softened now. From desperate to loving. From needing to savoring.

He looked down at her and didn’t speak at first — he just watched her, drinking her in.

The curve of her waist.

The arch of her hip resting against his thigh.

The way a lock of her tousled hair curled across her cheek like it had always belonged there.

“You’re staring,” she murmured without looking up, her finger now drawing a small heart just beneath his collarbone.

“I am,” he admitted, his voice deep, rough with something unspoken.

“I can’t help it. You look…”

She finally tilted her head up, chin resting on his chest, eyes gleaming in the dim light.

“Like a mess?” she teased.

“I’m sweaty and probably have mascara all over my face.”

“You look like mine,” he said simply.

That shut her up — just for a second.

Then her cheeks turned pink, and she crawled up to kiss his jaw, her lips brushing over the rough stubble that made her shiver.

“So,” she whispered, straddling him now, her palms pressed to his chest.

“I was thinking…”

“That’s dangerous,” he smirked, sliding his hands along her thighs.

“Hush, Mr. CEO.” She leaned in, her nose nearly touching his.

“I was thinking… maybe we actually can make this whole madness work. You and me. Business. Chaos. Control. The West Coast and New York. Fire and ice.”

He lifted a brow, amused and intrigued.

“You're planning our corporate empire now?”

“Maybe I am.” Her grin was wicked.

“Imagine it — we clean out the board, bring in people with actual brains, maybe let me decorate some of the offices so they don’t look like funeral homes —”

But her words were cut off by his lips.

He kissed her again — slower this time, deeper. A kiss that pulled her away from all the logistics, all the ideas, all the planning.

“That’s later,” he murmured against her mouth.

“Right now… you’re mine.”

And just like that — the fire returned.

His hands slid up her sides, and she gasped as he pulled her down to him, skin to skin, heat to heat. She could feel him hardening again beneath her, and her smirk turned sinful.

“Already?”

“You’re on top of me, Katherine.”

“You expect me to behave?”

She laughed — full, unfiltered, that bright sound that made something in his chest ache in the best way.

“God, I missed you,” she said, leaning in to kiss him again, this time slower.

“You have no idea,” he whispered, letting his hands explore her like it was the first time all over again.

And when their bodies met again — with her moving above him, her hair cascading over her shoulders, her nails digging into his chest, and his eyes locked on hers like she was his universe — there were no words left.

Just heat. Breath. Heartbeats.

Just them.

---

Hours had passed.

Or maybe it had only been minutes.

Time was a blur, a wild, messy tangle of tangled limbs, whispered names, and wicked grins in the darkness. The sheets were long gone. A pillow was on the floor. And Katherine… Katherine was riding him again like she was born for it.

“Jesus Christ, Katherine—” Sebastian groaned, his hands gripping her hips like she might disappear if he let go.

“You’re going to kill me.”

“You’ll die happy,” she shot back breathlessly, her head thrown back, hair cascading like a waterfall down her spine.

But then — just as he was about to flip her over and remind her who was boss — she froze.

“Wait.”

A blink.

A pause.

Then another blink.

Sebastian blinked too.

“…Wait what?”

Katherine tilted her head slowly, her brows furrowing in the most adorably serious way.

“I just realized… I’m starving.”

He stared at her like she’d just told him she was moving to Mars.

“You what?”

“I want food,” she said, still on top of him, completely naked, completely serious.

“Like now. Like… burger-level hunger. Maybe pizza. Or wings. Something greasy and inappropriate.”

He blinked again.

“You’re literally mid-sex.”

“Multitasking,” she shrugged with a grin.

“My brain does things, okay?”

“Katherine.” His voice was a low growl.

“You’re still moving your hips.”

“Oops.” She laughed and stopped — barely.

“Okay, but seriously. Can we do one more round and then order five things off a menu? Or… can we eat and then do one more round? I don’t know which one’s more urgent anymore.”

Sebastian dropped his head back against the couch and started laughing — a deep, genuine, helpless kind of laugh that shook his chest.

“You are pure chaos.”

“You knew that when you hired me.”

She winked, then leaned down and whispered against his lips:

“Now make me forget about the food for ten more minutes… and I’ll let you pick the pizza toppings.”

Sebastian didn’t need to be told twice.

He rolled them over, caging her beneath him with a devilish smirk.

“No olives.”

“No pineapple.”

“We’ll compromise.”

But by the time they were done compromising — twice — it was nearly 3 a.m., and Katherine was curled up in one of Sebastian’s shirts, devouring a burger in his kitchen like it was sacred.

He watched her from across the marble island, shirtless, sipping whiskey, and grinning like the fool she’d turned him into.

“You’re disgusting,” he teased as ketchup dripped on her collarbone.

“You’re in love with me,” she fired back with her mouth full.

He raised his glass.

“Guilty as charged.”

And in that quiet, laughter-filled kitchen on the fifty-third floor, surrounded by wrappers, crumbs, and love bites, they both knew — this was what home felt like.

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