My hands start to shake when his blue eyes heat. But he doesn’t move, even though it feels as if his big body is suddenly coiled tight. Maybe he senses my nervousness.
“Yes? You don’t have any more questions for me? You’re not curious about the man you’re planning to leave with? Who I am, what I do?”
I lick my lips. I should be more curious. Those are the things I should want to know before doing anything with this guy. But unless he confesses to being a serial killer, will any of it make a difference? At this stage, I’m sick of thinking about it. I just want to have sex with this man who, from the way he talks and acts, seems like he knows exactly what he’s doing. Then I can get past this hurdle and move on with my life. “Let’s not pretend we’ll ever see each other after tonight. You don’t strike me as the more-than-one-night kind of guy.”
He inclines his head. When he looks up at me through his dark lashes, there’s an almost mischievous glint in his eyes. “Does that bother you?”
“No.” I let out a shaky breath. “Yes. I don’t know.” I guess I’m not as unconcerned as I thought. “I’m sorry. I’m not used to this.”
One corner of his mouth tips up. “I can tell.” A slow, seductive smile blooms on his face. “Do you need me to convince you?”
The rasp in his voice sends a full-body shiver through me. I lick my lower lip and nod, because maybe hearing precisely what he plans to do to me will calm my nerves.
“You want me to tell you why you should come back to my hotel room right now?”
“Yes.” It’s a breathless whisper.
I gasp when he reaches for my stool and drags it closer to him so my knees end up between his thighs. Then he leans forward, tucks my hair behind my ear, and whispers into it, the heat of his breath causing goose bumps to scatter over my skin. “Because when we’re alone and I’ve already made you come twice, once with my fingers and once with my tongue, when I’ve buried my cock inside you and I’m driving you toward your third orgasm, I’m going to tell you exactly how sexy you are, exactly how hard I am for you, and exactly how incredible your pussy feels when it’s squeezing me. You’ll forget there was ever another man inside you, and when I finally let you, you’re going to come, screaming, all over my cock.”
He leans back so he can see my eyes, and I imagine they’re dilated enough to expose how much his words have affected me.
He smiles, drifts his knuckles over my burning cheek, and says, “Convincing enough?”
My mouth is so dry I can barely speak, and my heart is flinging itself against my rib cage. This is the craziest, most reckless thing I’ve ever contemplated in my life. I can tell myself I’ve had too much to drink, but that’s not it. I’m totally clear-headed now. But I’m tired of being responsible and doing the right thing all the time. I’m sick of overthinking this. Mom always told me to concentrate on my studies, get a good job, and not rush into a relationship or let a man change the course of my future. Well, I took her advice and more. I’m one of the youngest licensed architects in the United States, and that’s proof enough, but I still have a lot I want to achieve. I don’t need the added pressure of determining which man to share my body with for the first time. I could just do it already, get it over and done with, and move on without it hanging over my head.
So yes, tonight I’ll be reckless for once. I’ll let my hair down, stop thinking, and give this man, this stranger, something Paul apparently wasn’t willing to wait around for.
And I get the feeling he’ll make sure I enjoy every second.
I meet his gaze. “Very convincing.”
A flare of satisfaction brightens his icy blue eyes.
“What’s your name?” he asks, reaching out to tuck another stray tendril of hair behind my ear. His fingers drift down the column of my throat, and butterflies erupt in my stomach.
“Delilah. What’s yours?”
“Cole,” he says, studying me with an odd intensity, as if learning his name might make me change my mind.
Strangely enough, I’m reluctant to carry on with our small talk after agreeing to have sex with him. Like most things in my life, once I’ve decided I want to do something, I’m committed to making it happen as soon as possible. I’m still nervous, but there’s a sense of anticipation swelling within me I can’t ignore. A need to fulfill a part of me I’ve been holding back.
So when he asks if I’m ready to go, I nod, take a final sip of water to wet my dry throat, and slip off my stool.
Cole puts his hand on my lower back and guides me toward the exit, and I can’t stop thinking about what else his hands will soon do to me. I can’t stop the vision of his sweat-slicked body moving over mine.
My feet stutter to a halt and I can’t go any further without confessing the truth to him. This might be more than he bargained for. It’s possible my virginity could be a deal breaker for him, and he has a right to know what he’s getting into. “Wait. There’s something I need to tell you first.”
Wariness tightens his features, and his brows rise as he waits for me to explain my hesitation.
“I . . . um . . . I actually haven’t done this before.”
“I think it’s pretty obvious that going home with a man you’ve just met at a bar isn’t typical for you.”
I lower my voice. “No. I mean, I haven’t done . . . it . . . before. At all.”
A crease forms between his brows.
“I’m a virgin,” I hiss when he fails to respond.
Surprise flares in his eyes. “How old did you say you are?”
His obvious disbelief makes me raise my chin. “It’s not like it’s that uncommon.” I hold my breath, wondering if he’ll change his mind.
His eyes run over me, and something I can’t identify glimmers in them. A hint of a smile curls his lips. “Uncommon enough.” He shakes his head, still with that half smile on his face, then takes my hand. “Let’s go.”
IT’S ONLY a short walk to his hotel, one of the King International chain of luxury accommodations. I’m too nervous to take in all the architectural details or the expansive foyer the way I normally would, but when he guides me to the elevator, swipes a card, and presses the button for the second highest floor, shock hits me. “A suite?”
His lips curve up. “Perks of the job.”
“What do you do?”
“I’m in . . . hospitality.”
I smile at him. “Wow, I should have kept my waitressing job.”
I wait for him to ask what I do, but he doesn’t. He just watches me out of those gorgeous, darkly lashed blue eyes because we’re here for one reason and one reason only. Getting to know each other isn’t a part of that.
When I realize my mistake, I laugh at myself. “Okay,” I say. “I’ll get the hang of this soon.”
He shakes his head, a crooked smile on his lips, as if I amuse him. And I probably do. I’m sure he’s used to being with far more experienced women. That thought rattles me far more than I expect it to. Before I can dwell on it too much, the elevator dings as it reaches his floor, and the doors slide open.
Cole ushers me down a short corridor that looks like it’s tiled in marble. He waves his card in front of the door and swings it open, standing back to let me walk through first.
“Oh my god.” My feet glue themselves to the floor as I take in the massive space. I’ve never been in such a luxurious hotel room before. There’s no other word to describe it but opulent, with its high ceilings, hardwood floors, and expensive-looking furniture. It even has a crystal chandelier hanging over the dining table.
But what catches my eye is the unobstructed view of the New York City skyline. “Wow,” I whisper. The floor-to-ceiling windows draw me forward, and I stand in front of them, my fingertips resting lightly on the cool glass as I look over the city spread out beneath me.
Unease flickers in my chest. Cole’s employer might be paying for this hotel suite, but he’s obviously wealthy himself. And I know what wealthy men are like—relentless when going after what they want, whether that be possessions or people, and with no regard for the repercussions of their selfishness.
Am I making a mistake?
I shake my head. I’m overthinking it. After tonight, I’ll never see Cole again, and I’ve done all I can to protect myself from any unintended consequences. As soon as I started dating Paul, I got a birth control implant. Assuming I’d be doing this with him tonight, I even brought a condom in my purse. If for some reason a man like Cole doesn’t have one handy, I’m covered.
“Would you like a drink?” Cole asks from behind me.
I drag myself away from the view and focus on him, where he’s standing in front of an extensive wet bar. As tempting as it is to have a big glass of wine to help with my courage, I want to know exactly what happens between us.
“I’ve probably had enough alcohol tonight. I’ll just have water, thank you.”
He cracks open a bottle, pours it into a glass, adds a slice of lemon, and walks over to me. Our fingers brush as I take the drink, and my gaze flits to his, my heart rate speeding up.
I take a sip, and then another. Cole hasn’t bothered with a drink for himself. Instead, he’s watching me, his eyes darkening as I lick a stray drop from my lips.
He doesn’t wait for me to finish, reaching for the glass and taking it from me. “You didn’t come here to hydrate and admire the view, did you?”
My pulse hammers in my throat. “I—Uh, no, I didn’t.”
His gaze lands on my mouth again, and he reaches up and brushes his thumb over my lower lip. Is he going to kiss me now?
“Turn around,” he says, his voice low and firm.
I blink, let out a shuddery breath, and do as he says. I only jump a little when he grips the zipper of my dress and drags it down. He takes his time, as if he’s enjoying the anticipation, then he slips the straps off my shoulders. The material slithers over my body and pools on the floor.
Oh my god, this is really happening.
“Walk to the bedroom. Slowly,” he commands, and when I shoot a look at him over my shoulder, he gives me a wolfish smile. “Come on, kitten. If you want to do this, we do it my way. And I want to see you.”
Kitten? Really? I don’t question it, though. I’ve got more important things on my mind. “This isn’t quite how I imagined this happening.”
His knuckles drift down my spine, and goose bumps ripple out from beneath his touch. His eyes pierce me. “You chose me for a reason,” he says, “and it’s not because you thought I would be soft and gentle. I’m sure you’ve been around plenty of very nice men that would have gladly sweet-talked you out of your clothes and into their beds, but you didn’t want them, did you? You want me. And that’s because a part of you knows exactly how this is going to go. You’re done overthinking, and now you want to let go and feel. But I could be wrong. Maybe what you really want is sweet words and spooning afterward. If that’s the case, feel free to walk back out that door. I’ll even call a driver to take you home.”
Maybe I should leave. Maybe I should take up his offer and put this night behind me as a moment of insanity. But standing here in my lingerie in front of a man who’s basically a stranger, I don’t want to leave. I have to put my faith in myself and my own judgment. To learn to trust my instincts instead of overanalyzing. And right now, my instincts are telling me I need what this man is offering me. I want him to take control so I can let go.
I let out a breath, all my muscles loosening as I step away from my discarded dress and walk to the bedroom.
