I pick up the card, offer the clerk a nod, and we walk further into the lobby toward the elevator.
“You’ve done this plenty of times before, right?” she asks, controlling the faint trembling of her voice.
“Not this exact way, no. And not in a palace,” I answer with a sardonic grin, looking around at the luxurious surroundings. “But I’ve had one-night stands, yes. It’s actually my specialty.”
“I’m lucky to have stumbled upon a professional, then.”
My low chuckle is interrupted by the elevator doors opening.
“Do you want to do this, red?” The fabric of her dress is thin, and it serves as a mediocre barrier to my touch when I set a hand on her lower back. I can feel her warmth and want to rip the silk away until there’s nothing between us.
She takes a bold step forward, following my invitation. “Yes, I want to.”
We enter the confined space together, soon followed by more guests. They all look forward as we end up in the back and my hand returns to her waist. Once the doors close, I look down at her, mesmerized by her unique appeal.
“And you?” she almost whispers. “Do you want to do this?”
I can’t hide the crooked smirk this compels. My palm slides from her back to her hip, and I clutch the curve of it to pull her closer to me. She complies with the command as I relocate her before me, and it’s only when my hand slips to her front to press her against me that she understands my intentions. I’m hard as steel between us, my cock straining against my jeans and pressing against her arse.
I sense the shiver that shakes her from head to toe, her entire body tensing at the touch of my hard-on. My hand and fingers are still spread right under her navel, and I tug her even closer. Given how red her ear is, I bet she’s as wet as I am hard.
“I think I’ve been hard since you strolled in wearing that sexy little dress,” I whisper.
I’m bent over enough to see her eyelids flutter, her mind probably overpowered by adrenaline and lust. My hold is light, and she can step forward to put some space between us whenever she wants. It would be the right thing to do for a proper woman like her, especially since we’re not alone on the ride up. Instead, she presses harder into me, the firmness of her bum squeezing my cock between us.
“And you, red? Are you wet for me?” I can’t help but ask.
She gulps and says nothing, her cheeks flushed. “Cat got your tongue again, Miss Kensington?”
She shakes her head, worriedly eyeing the oblivious guests. Soft music is playing, and I’m speaking low enough so no one can hear aside from her. There’s only us in this moment—us and the need we have for one another.
“Maybe you want me to find out for myself, then?” I suggest, the warmth of my breath fanning across the tendrils on the back of her neck.
When my fingers slowly descend down the fabric of her dress, her hand instinctively wraps around my wrist, adamantly stopping me.
“Then tell me, Gen. Are you wet?”
She tremblingly confesses, “Yes,” and I feel precum seep out of me.
Jesus fucking Christ, I haven’t even entered this woman yet, and she’s already testing my stamina. She can probably hear the low groan that rumbles in my throat, given how she shivers against me. We reach our floor before anything else can happen, and I escort her out of there, people parting for my imposing frame.
We’re drowning in silence as we walk through the hallways, the thick carpet absorbing our steps. Because I miss the soft waves of her red hair, I tug at the stick holding it together, sending it cascading down. When she glances at me, I’m twirling the stick around my tattooed knuckles.
Tonight, she’ll learn what proper sex is. And I’ll finally get my fill of this woman after obsessing over her for an entire week.
Chapter Seven
Gen
I’ve stopped questioning whatI’m doing because nothing makes sense anymore. Mr. Clarke—Jake—keeps surprising me, and I can’t comprehend why I want him as much as I do. Is it narcissistic pride? Am I reveling in the knowledge that the most unique man I’ve ever met is interested in me? Or at least in my body.
His tattoos and cavalier attitude might as well be a giant billboard warning me not to approach. Everything about him should push me away, but I’m drawn to him instead. Why am I by his side, walking toward the room we just secured for ourselves? It’s as though I’m on autopilot, and I’m not sure I want to take back control of my body and mind. I can’t explain what’s happening, but I’ll have a lot to unload the next time I see my therapist.
Once we get to our door, it opens in one try, despite my trembling hands. Before I can step inside, Jake presses his hand to my back again, spurring me on.
The room is comfortably large, but not enough to ignore how oppressive the massive bed feels. Especially when Jake closes the door behind us. In an attempt to earn myself some time to relax, I come up with a simple idea.
“We’ll take turns in the shower,” I say, twisting around to face him. He’s much closer to me than I expected, so I take a surprised step back.
