“Let me take you on a date, Megan. A real date—dinner, drinks, some more dancing–whatever you want, I’ll make it happen.”
Ugh. I love when he uses my full name. He doesn’t call me Freckles or Red. Doesn’t give me some ginger-snap nickname like most men. He’s the only person that calls me Megan, like it’s our little secret.
“Jim,” I plead, shoulders slumping. “I can’t. It’s not you, it’s—”
“Oh God.” He stumbles back. “Did you just try to hit me with the ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ line?”
I reach out to grab an arm as he lurches away. “I swear that’s true!” I drop my purse on the floor, faintly hear the contents spilling out as my other hand comes up so I can latch onto both of his strong biceps and pull him towards me. I tug hard, dragging his body so it’s pressed up against mine. “Trust me on this one. You don’t want to date me.”
“And if I do?”
“I can’t go on a date or potentially get into a relationship, even if there are things I might…want,” I say, reaching my hand up to clasp the back of his neck.
“And what do you want?” he mutters, moving his head down so his forehead rests against mine.
“What if we could just have tonight?” I whisper into the space between us. “Whatever happens, whatever we want…just one ridiculous night where I can let go, where I can feel out of control and free from life’s stressors and just…be...”
“What if I want more than just one night?” He puts his hands on my hips and drags me towards him. His fingertips curl, biting into my soft flesh, and my lower body rolls into him on instinct.
I shake my head “no” before the words are completely out of his mouth. “I can’t do that, only one night. Just tonight.”
“Meg…” He releases his grip as he sighs heavily.
A wave of rejection and disappointment fills my head. I push off of him, stooping down to gather my discarded belongings. “Never mind,” I mutter, shoving the contents back inside my purse. “Forget I said anything.” I stand up, turning towards the door to slide my key card in when I feel a hand reach out to grip the nape of my neck. I’m forced back around, pulled against that rock hard body I’ve admired all night, Jim’s mouth nearly on mine. The heat between us makes me dizzy with lust, and I latch onto his arms for balance.
“Did I say no?” he asks, punctuating each word with a low growl.
“You didn’t say yes,” I spit back. “I know when a man wants me, Jim.” And his hesitation was all I needed to see.
His other hand comes up to wrap around my jaw, a strong thumb grazing across my cheek as his eyes dart back and forth between mine. “What do you want, Meg? Do you want me to fuck you? Do you want to wake up tomorrow with an ache between your legs, voice worn from screaming my name?”
My core clenches with his words.
“Is that what you want?” he asks again, his hand falling from my face to my shoulder, fingertips dancing across my collar bone, thumb pressing into the hollow of my throat as he continues. “Because there isn’t a man on this earth who could possibly want you more than I do.”
My eyes dart back and forth between his, unable, and unwilling, to look away.
“Say the words,” he demands. “Tell me you want this. Tell me to fuck you.”
Swallowing hard, I give him the answer he’s prodding for. “I want you to fuck me.”
“Good.” He drops his hands and pulls away, the cool air coming between us and the world starts up again. The elevator hums as it lands on our floor, a ping when the doors open wide. Laughter echoes from a group of drunks that stumble out of the steel trap before disappearing behind closed doors.
Jim walks down the hall and passes two doors before stopping and opening his. He leans his tall frame against the open door, gaze locked on me, offering one last silent opportunity to prove this is what I want. With a flip of my hair and a tick of my hip, I sashay down the hall and into his room.
Chapter Four
The door slams closed behind us, shutting out the noises of the outside world.
The lights are off and his room is dark, but the open curtains let in a faint glow from the city lights. The scent of his cologne hangs in the air, the last lingering spritz before he left earlier tonight.
With slow, steady motions, I draw the scent deep into my lungs as I wait for him to make his move. I expect him to pounce on me, to shove my dress up over my hips and ravage me. The way his eyes have hungrily perused my body over the last few months would have had me guessing any reaction besides the one I’m getting.
I turn to look over my shoulder, chin grazing my skin to find his eyes locked on my back, leisurely tracing the intricate series of criss-cross straps that hold my dress together.
He slowly slips his suit jacket off, letting it fall down his arms before he folds it in half and drapes it over the arm of the easy chair, his eyes never once leaving my body.
“I’ve stared at these damn straps all night, wondering which one I’d have to rip to let this whole thing fall to your feet.”
