I rise from my chair, sliding into my jacket as the bartender drops the tab in front of me. I scrawl my signature with the ease of a man completely in control, tearing off the corner of the paper and writing my room number on it.
Without hesitation, I take her hand, warm and soft in mine, and press the slip into her palm.
Then I cup her cheek, my thumb brushing lightly against her skin. She tilts her head into the touch, her lashes fluttering as if the tenderness of the moment disarms her completely. Her gaze turns heavy, laced with a need she’s denying but dangerously close to giving into.
“Finish your cake,” I tell her, keeping my voice intimate. “When you’re done, the choice is yours. You knock on my door, and I’ll show you just how much I mean every damn word I’ve said. Or, if you prefer, we go our separate ways, no hard feelings.”
I let my thumb trail along her jaw one last time before stepping back, straightening to my full height. I know the effect this moment will have, and I want her to feel the decision fully in her hands.
“But either way, Lilly,” I say softly, my tone lingering like a promise, “I’ll remember this night for a very long time.”
Her eyes stay fixed on mine as I turn to walk away, the silence between us crackling like fire. I don’t glance back. I don’t need to, I know she’s still watching.
I cursehis damn jacket for covering the view of his ass as he strides across the lobby. When he reaches the elevators, he presses the button, his shoulders straight and his head held high. The doors open with a soft chime, and he steps inside, sparing me one last glance as he presses a button. Just before the doors begin to close, he locks eyes with me, his lips curving into a knowing grin. Then he winks.
“Fuck,” I whisper, the word slipping out without thought. My fingers uncurl, revealing the crumpled slip of paper still warm from his hand. I stare at it, a flutter of nerves racing through me.
When he stood beside me and delivered that line, the promise he’d remember this night, I was paralyzed. The intensity in his voice had stolen the air from my lungs and every coherent thought from my head. No man has ever spoken to me like that. Maybe it’s rehearsed, maybe it’s just his style. But tonight, I can’t bring myself to care.
One more bite of cake, a quick sip of champagne to calm my nerves, and I’m on my feet. My phone doubles as a mirror, the soft light glowing against my flushed cheeks as I check my lipstick and smooth out my hair. Once I’m satisfied, I tuck it back into my clutch.
I walk toward the elevators, the sound of my heels echoing throughout the lobby. Once inside, I open my hand again to check the room number: 2401. Of course. The top floor.
I press the button for the twenty-fourth floor, and the doors glide closed, sealing me in. Each ding that marks a passing floor feels like a drumbeat in my chest. By the time the elevator stops, my breath is shallow, anticipation thrumming through me.
When the doors open, I find myself in a hall with only two suites. His door is directly across from me, dark and imposing. I take one step forward, then another, and pause just in front of it.
I hesitate. My knuckles hover just shy of the cold metal, my heartbeat echoing in my ears. What do I really know about him? He never said it aloud, but his presence screams power, wealth, and dangerously confidence. He’s got exquisite taste in both dessert and seduction. And he’s promised orgasms.
Do I need anything else?
Before I can answer that question, or knock, the door swings open.
He lets out a soft sigh. “I’m so glad you made the right choice.”
Before I can react, his hands are on me, gripping my waist and pulling me inside. The door slams shut behind me with a solid thud as his fingers tangle in my hair. The hunger in his movements steals every ounce of willpower I had left to resist him.
My clutch hits the floor as I rise onto my toes, meeting him halfway. Our lips collide, and it’s nothing like I expected. The kiss doesn’t just ignite sparks; it’s an explosion, an intensity that leaves nothing untouched. His mouth devours mine with an exquisite blend of control and desperation.
The air around us thickens, our breaths become sharper, his hands roam. Warm, strong, commanding hands. A primal urge to be closer floods me as my fingers dig into his shoulders. The kiss is a thousand things: fierce and wild, tender and possessive, relief and desire.
When his tongue slides against mine, the noise that escapes me is involuntary, a soft, breathless moan that only seems to drive him harder. My legs tremble under his relentless intensity, but Icouldn’t care less. For the first time in a long time, I feel alive. Completely, overwhelmingly alive.
I dip my knees,sliding my arms beneath her thighs, and lift her effortlessly into my grasp. She clings to me, her nails dragging against my scalp as though the kiss isn’t enough, as though she’s trying to pull me even closer. Her breath hitches against my mouth, and it fuels the fire surging through my veins.
I carry her toward the bedroom. It’s intoxicating, the way her body fits against mine, the heat of her skin searing through the fabric between us. I push the door open with my shoulder and cross the room, lowering her onto the bed. Her body bounces gently against the plush mattress, and for a moment, I drink her in. The disheveled waves of her hair, the flush staining her cheeks, and the way her chest rises and falls like she’s already lost control. I burn every feature into my memory.
I shrug off my jacket in a single motion, my hands reaching for my shirt. The buttons scatter as I rip the fabric apart, the sound of threads tearing lost in the thunder of my pulse.
“Can I help you out of that dress?” My voice is rough with restraint.
She nods, and I plant a knee between her thighs, sinking the mattress beneath us as I lean in. My fingers trace over the straps of her dress, sliding them down her shoulders, one after the other. I draw the fabric down her body, revealing her inch by inch.
As the dress pools at her waist, her breasts are revealed: bare,no bra, nipples peaked in anticipation. My breath falters as I take in the sight of her.
I can’t stop myself. My hand moves to her chest, my palm cradling one soft curve as my thumb brushes against her nipple. The weight of it in my hand, the way she exhales a soft, trembling gasp, sends a sharp wave of hunger crashing over me.
“Your body is absolute perfection.” My eyes lift to hers, and for a moment, time seems to stand still. There’s a fire in her gaze that matches my own, a silent, urgent agreement that tonight, the world outside this room doesn’t exist.
