Solo and the City || Season One: Lights, Camera, Action

Chapter Eight

He chuckled. "I really am. It's an Aston Martin DB7 Volante."

"Well, I've heard of Aston Martin, at least," she admitted. "It's very fancy, Napoleon. I am thoroughly dazzled."

"Thank you, Robin." He shut her door and walked around to the driver's side. "It's good to see you," he mentioned.

His eyes roamed over her sweater, which bared her stomach and hugged her breasts so tightly that the fabric thinned whenever she breathed.

"That looks amazing on you," he murmured.

"Thank you, Napoleon."

He licked his lips and briefly shook his head to clear it. "Tell me what you and your friends are discussing this week," he requested.

"I've got the perfect thing. Carrie spent the weekend in the Hamptons with a couple she knows, and when she woke up one morning, the husband was just hanging out in the hallway with no underwear on."

Napoleon raised an eyebrow. "An accident?"

"Definitely not. And he'd clearly done it before, based on the wife's reaction. General consensus is that he was just showing it off, because it was big. He didn't even acknowledge it, though."

"Since you brought it up, may I ask a potentially crass question, Robin?"

She turned her head and looked at him curiously. "You can ask me anything you'd like, Napoleon. If I don't want to answer, I'll tell you."

"I like that rule." He licked his lips. "How much does size actually matter to you?"

She giggled. "It's far more important to me that a man is an attentive and skilled lover. In fact, size only complicates things if he has no idea what he's doing. That being said, I do enjoy a larger man."

"What constitutes larger?" he mused softly.

She blushed. "Anything between seven and ten inches."

"That's very specific."

"I have enough experience to be specific."

He flushed and reached up to loosen his tie as they arrived at his building's private garage. He parked and walked around to open her door, taking her hand to help her out of the car, admiring her whole outfit again as he did.

"Why are you so dressed up, by the way?" she questioned. "Not that I don't appreciate it. I just thought we'd be more casual since we're eating in."

"I had a photo shoot today. They let me leave in the suit, since my suits never fit anyone else."

She beamed at him as he put a hand on the small of her back to lead her to the elevator. "Shoulders too broad and arms too big?" she mused.

"Indeed," he confirmed.

He pressed the button for the penthouse, then pulled a key out of his pocket, inserting it into the elevator to grant him access.

"How exclusive, Napoleon," she whispered, inching closer to him.

She was suddenly quite warm, and the urge to kiss him was almost overwhelming. But she'd promised herself she'd behave, partially because of what she'd said to her friends earlier, that she thought Napoleon wanted to take it slow, and partially because she was hoping he'd talk about the fashion show before they got to anything intimate.

He coughed to clear his throat. It was apparent that he was feeling the same way, though he also wasn't acting on it. As the elevator dinged to indicate that they had reached their destination, he advised, "Stand behind me. My dog, Cowboy, is very large and enthusiastic."