“Also,” he adds, holding up a champagne bottle. “It comes with free booze.”
“That sounds amazing,” I say with a nervous laugh.
Gavin pours us each a glass, and I slip out of my heels and pad over to the window. The city is dark with a blanket of glowing lights, and I smile. “So beautiful,” I say softly.
“I agree,” he says, but when I look over at him, he’s staring at me, not the city.
“You’re so smooth,” I muse.
“I try,” he shrugs and grins, and I shake my head.
I was expecting him to jump me as soon as we walked in the door.
I thought he’d immediately throw me on the bed and ravish me before getting off five minutes later and pass out. Then I’d leave the room and do the walk of shame. Maybe I’m a pessimist, but that’s just what I expect from a one-night stand.
But Gavin doesn’t do that.
He pours us a second flute of champagne and turns on the music on the giant TV that’s mounted on the wall. Jazz, of course. Thenhe slips out of his shoes, loosens his tie, and walks back over to me.
“You look nervous,” he says.
“I’m not,” I argue with the most convincing smile I can manage.
“Don’t be,” he says.
Easy for him to say. He’s not the one standing in a fancy hotel room with a sexy silver fox whose gaze has the power to edge me without even touching me.
He takes another step closer, and my heart speeds up in my chest.
“I’m sorry, I’m not very good at this,” I tell him, and he gently takes my glasses off and sets them to the side.
“I beg to differ,” he says. His voice is so low and gravelly, I can feel it on my skin.
“I swear I’m not always this awkward,” I add.
“Who said anything about awkward?” he asks, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear.
“Maybe I need another drink,” I say.
Gavin responds by taking my glass from my hand, setting it next to my glasses and covering my lips with his.
It’s sweet, unrushed, but hot and deliberate.
A kiss I couldn’t escape if I wanted to, and I never want to.
A tiny moan escapes my throat as he works his jaw, parting my lips with his tongue, his hands cupping my cheeks and holding me closer.
My back naturally arches against him, and I rise to my tiptoes to meet him in the kiss.
I’m about five-seven, but the height difference is a little tricky, especially now that I’m not wearing shoes anymore.
As if he can hear my thoughts, Gavin bends down and picks me up, and my legs wrap around his toned torso.
His large, warm hands grip my butt, skin to skin under my dress, sending a surge of heat through my thighs.
Our lips find each other again, and it goes from sweet to frantic as our bodies respond to the need.
As our tongues connect in a dance that feels learned and natural, our hands are busy undressing each other.
