An Affair Across Times Square

by Rachell Nicole

  Maybe even his heart.

  He wiped off the steam still clinging to the mirror as she came into the bathroom. She looked at him in the mirror, and the defeat in her eyes almost did him in. But he steeled himself against whatever lies were about to come from her mouth next.

  “How much of that did you hear?”

  The look she gave him was too serious. Too hard for him to lie to.

  “All of it,” he mumbled.

  She started to laugh.

  “What the hell? I just said I heard you tell your mother what a good fuck I was, and nothing more. Not a word about fancy dinners with yellow roses or Yankee games.” He couldn’t keep the hurt from his voice, the accusation.

  She snorted, laughing harder at him and his stupidity. “So…” she said before another round of laughter. She took a deep breath. Cleared her throat. “I guess you missed the part where I told her you were a prostitute so she didn’t have to worry about me soiling your reputation like I’ve done to so many other guys in the past.”

  Well, shit. That he hadn’t expected. So she didn’t just think he was good in bed. She knew something deeper existed between them. Or maybe she didn’t. He had to ask. He couldn’t turn around and face her, but he watched her through the mirror.

  “So I’m not just a good fuck?” He tried to make his tone light, but the words came out sounding like a condemnation.

  “Well, of course you are. You know you’re incredible in that department, but no, you’re not just some guy I picked up to have sex with. I’m sorry I said that.”

  He felt a smile curving his lips.

  “My mom isn’t anything like yours,” she said. “If I’d told her the truth about how we met and everything, it would have just added to her belief that I’m nothing but bad news and that I can’t ever have a real relationship because all I know how to do is screw things up. Somehow the guy I’m with always seems to get burned by my…wild nature, shall we say?”

  She moved closer to him, wrapping her arms around his naked waist from behind. “So…you’re leaving tomorrow, huh?” he said.

  He felt her nod against his back. “But we have to clear out of here. I’ll just stay at a hotel out by the airport. I was going to do that anyway. Besides, it makes me happy to spend money at my mother’s competitors’ hotels. It’s stupid and petty, I know, but I can’t help it.”

  He had yet another impulse he couldn’t squelch. Never before had he been so damned impulsive. Maybe Mommy Dearest was right after all; she was a bad influence on him. Just ask. She was still leaving tomorrow. Had just been officially disowned by her own mother. He couldn’t think she only wanted him for sex. She’d said she didn’t want him just for sex, but she also wasn’t willing to stay. As her hands trailed down toward the top edge of his towel, he didn’t know for sure if she saw anything past the sex, but he could pretend not to care. At least for one more night.

  If this was all he could have of her, he would take it and savor every second. She finally seemed to believe his reassurance that his mother didn’t disapprove of her.

  “This is the one room left to, um, well…fuck in,” he said. She poked her head around his back and looked at him in the mirror, amusement in her eyes. “You up for it? I wouldn’t want to go and make a liar out of you, after all.” He smiled, and her hands pulled open the edge of the towel, letting it drop to the floor. He’d have to ease into the next question with a little tact.

  He turned around. She looked down at his quickly swelling erection and took it in her hands. He jerked with the sensation of her warm fingers against his sensitive flesh. She played with the loose skin, massaging up and down until he was so hard he couldn’t stand it. He opened her silk robe and lifted her heavy breasts in his hands, teasing the dark brown nipples into hard peaks with his thumbs until she was gasping. Then he grabbed her around the waist and set her on the counter.

  “Be right back,” he said, giving her a quick kiss. He sprinted into the bedroom and back in seconds, a condom in his hand. She’d pulled her hair up into a tight bun, accentuating her high cheekbones and the slender curve of her neck. Her robe lay in a pile on the floor. She snatched the foil packet from his hand and opened it, still perched on the sink. He moved closer, and she rolled the latex down his shaft, one inch at a time. Once he was covered, Layla hooked her legs over his hips. He moved his hands behind her, cupping her ass as she pulled him closer with her legs. She angled him toward her entrance, already wet in invitation. She pivoted her hips, and he slid home.

  It was a surreal experience to look down and see her face and his reflection in the mirror at the same time. She smiled as she arched her back, almost coming off the counter. He held on as he pushed in and out of her. She pulled him down to her lips, kissing him. She rolled her tongue around his, withdrew and nibbled on his bottom lip, then went back to exploring his mouth with her tongue. He leaned over her, sliding his hands down to the sink to keep from crushing her. Her legs locked against him as she kissed him along the chin to his earlobe. She sucked it into her mouth, edging him closer to release, moaning her own pleasure in his ear.

  “God, I love the way you sound right before you come,” he whispered against her hair. She was leaning back on the large sink counter, pulling him closer. He worked a hand between them, trailed it over her belly and down into her damp curls, searching for that one spot that would make her come.

  Her moans got louder, closer to a scream than a moan. Her breath came in gasps between the gorgeous sounds. Then she screamed in his ear, clenched down on his cock so hard he could hold off his release no longer, and he came just as violently. He lifted her off the counter, still deep inside her. She shivered, erupting again with little pulses. He carried her into the shower and slipped from within her. He turned on the hot water and tossed the condom into the wastebasket.

  He watched from outside the shower for a second as she stood beneath the water, an enticing smile on her lips. She crooked a finger at him, inviting him in. If only she invited him into her life so easily. He joined her in the shower, closing the glass door. She lathered up in silence, that smile still on her lips. He couldn’t help but dip his head to kiss it away.

  A light breath of a kiss. Gentle, sweet. One that left his head spinning. He blinked and had to stop himself from pulling her to him again. She handed him the soap and turned away from him. He took great pleasure in sliding bubbles all over her back, neck, and shoulders. Then he knelt, working the soap over her ass, the backs of her thighs and calves. As the water rinsed her clean, he slipped a hand between her legs, cupping her mound in his palm. She gasped, and he felt her thigh muscles tighten.

  She slid her legs farther apart, giving him better access.

  “Turn around for me, Layla,” he said. He moved his hand as she turned. She leaned back against the wall of the shower, and he sat on the tiled floor, sliding closer. He admired her from this angle, her breasts held suspended above his head, her triangle of dark curls at eye level. A man could get used to a view like this.

  He breathed against the muff of soft hair and watched the muscles of her abdomen clench. He trailed a finger up the inside of her thigh, and she squirmed. He grazed the side of her entrance, feeling the hot wetness there for him. All for him. She gasped as he pushed that finger deep inside her with no warning. She bucked against his right hand, and he used the fingers of his left to spread the folds protecting her clit.

  He dipped his head and licked one long stroke over her sensitive nub as he pushed two more fingers in deep. She moaned. Almost there already. He flicked her clit without mercy, knowing she would come soon. He moved his fingers in and out faster, harder, stretching her. Angled them to hit the spot just right as he sucked hard on her clit. She quivered, screaming his name.

  She slouched against the wall, her legs still shaking as he moved his head away. He looked up at her, smiling. Now was the time to ask. When she was at his mercy.

  “Come home with me for the night, Layla.”

  OH,
HE WAS an evil, evil man. Layla looked down at him and knew she would say yes. She shouldn’t. She didn’t particularly want to, but he looked so tempting sitting there before her in the shower, gazing up at her with hopeful, sweet brown eyes tinged with desire and a hint of worry. Her thigh muscles clenched, and she leaned harder against the wet porcelain.

  “Yes.” The word came out a whisper, but he smiled. He’d heard her. His bright grin warmed her, and she extended her hand. He placed his wet fingers into her palm and let her pull him to his feet. He wrapped her in his arms and kissed her forehead.

  She breathed in the scent of hotel shampoo, one she’d smelled so many times before. But this time, mixed with the scent of Tyler, it smelled even better. She let him hold her for another moment, then stepped closer to the water, careful not to get her hair wet. She pulled the showerhead off the wall and sprayed Tyler with it for a second, then used it to clean herself. She smiled as she felt Tyler’s gaze following her every movement.

  He slid closer to her, and she brandished the showerhead before her like a sword.

  “Begone, beast. We’ve got to get out of here. I don’t dare let you get closer to me now.” Shit, if only he knew how true that statement was. But he grinned and backed up, his hands out in front of him. He raised his eyebrows and then stepped out of the shower. She was equal parts glad for and saddened by the reprieve.

  “I’ll call down to the front desk and have them get us a cab,” he said.

  “Don’t bother. I’m sure my mother has informed them I’m leaving. They’ll have a car waiting,” Layla said, shutting off the water and opening the curtain. She heard his sharp intake of breath as he stood there staring at her. He was already hard again. Jeez, the man could have been a porn star. He rocked his hips forward, making the erection bounce. She felt heat creep up her neck. She’d been caught gawking. He chuckled, and her sight wandered back up to his face. He shook his head and then left the bathroom.

  “Want to make sure you don’t threaten me with a toilet brush or something,” he said from the other room, though he left the door open. He felt so comfortable in his nakedness it astounded her. Hadn’t he grown up with women in the house? How had they felt about his penchant for nudity?

  She wrapped herself in a towel and followed him into the bedroom. She grabbed a bra and a wrap dress, pulling both on with quick movements. Tyler was dressed and standing beside her when she started yanking clothes from the armoire and shoving them into her suitcase.

  “In that much of a hurry, huh?”

  “Yeah, well, the shock will only last for a few, and she’ll be back for round three.”

  Ten minutes later, they were downstairs at the main desk, facing Eddie.

  “Layla, I thought that you were staying—”

  “Here until tomorrow before heading home. I know.” She glared at him a second before he nodded. “Change of plans. I’m checking out now.”

  He didn’t comment on Tyler’s presence beside her. Smart boy. “Carl is waiting out in the valet for you with the town car.”

  “Thanks, Eddie. I’ll be seeing you.”

  He moved around the desk and gave her a quick hug. “You okay?” he whispered against her ear.

  “Mmhmm.”

  Tyler shook hands with Eddie.

  “I’ll call you tomorrow when I land,” she said. He’d want to know everything. She didn’t know if she’d be able to tell him that she’d just walked away from Tyler, knowing he was different from the other men she’d been with. Didn’t know how to explain that somewhere along the line, keeping her distance had stopped being about her fear of him rejecting her and more about the very real danger of falling in love with a man she was afraid could love her back just as fiercely.

  “Great. Can’t wait.”

  She led Tyler, who’d insisted on taking her suitcase, out to the car. Carl put it in the trunk of the sedan for them and held the door as they slid without speaking into the backseat. Tyler gave Carl his address and a few directions to get to his apartment and then sat beside her.

  Well, this is awkward.

  Why had she agreed to go back to his place? Tyler reached over and held her hand, and the awkwardness dispelled as if it had never been there. Looking at the open sweetness in his eyes made her heart clench. How had she let him get to her so quickly? They rode in a very comfortable silence, his thumb stroking the back of her hand again and again. She watched the city pass by them as they crawled through traffic and let his light touches build a slow tingle through her body. She squirmed away from him for a moment, taking a deep breath. She needed a break from the sensation. Her body was still overly sensitive, and she had to keep her hands to herself in the back of the small car.

  She leaned her head against the warm glass of the window, her hands in her lap. She heard his soft chuckle and resisted the urge to punch him. He knew what he’d been doing to her body. She saw his faint reflection in the glass as he shifted on the seat. At least he seemed to be just as affected as she was. Ten minutes later, they pulled up in front of his building. Her heart had slowed, but she still felt on edge. Needy.

  She got out, and he grabbed her suitcase from the back. She smiled and waved good-bye to Carl.

  “I’ll see you the next time I’m in town. Thanks for the ride.”

  “Anytime, Layla. See you soon. Take care of yourself out there in California, okay?” The concern on his lined face touched her. Carl had always been her favorite growing up at the hotel. He was one of the sweetest men she’d ever met.

  “I always do.”

  Tyler thanked him as well, then took Layla’s suitcase in one hand and her fingers in his other and tugged her toward the glass entrance. Her feet felt heavy. Could she go in there with him? He kept walking, bringing her with him, unaware of the panic building in her chest. She stopped. He lurched as she tried to pull her hand from his.

  “Layla.” He whispered her name, turning to look into her eyes. His thumb drew a pattern on the back of her hand, calming the panic. “You okay?”

  “Yes.” It wasn’t a lie. Well, not really a lie, but rather what she wished the answer to be, what it would be as soon as she was upstairs. In his home. It had been a long time since she’d been inside a man’s home. How did Tyler live? Was his place the quintessential bachelor pad or something more classic and sophisticated? Only one way to find out. She started moving forward again, her legs still unsteady, though from nerves or desire, she couldn’t tell.

  “Hey, Steve,” Tyler said to the doorman as they crossed the threshold.

  She expected her heart rate to spike as soon as she came through the lobby, but it remained a rhythmic thudding. She glided across the marble floor to the elevators with Tyler still holding her hand, her panic forgotten. Once in the small metal box, he released her hand and stepped closer to her, his body almost touching hers but not quite. How could he stand so close and not touch her?

  She made a move toward him, and he slid farther away. She was still too keyed up from the light touches in the car. He looked at her out of the corner of his eye and smirked, then placed her suitcase between them. Oh, mean, mean man. The elevator stopped on the third floor, and a blonde woman got in, dressed in pink yoga pants and a matching tank top. She pushed the button for the fifteenth floor. Tyler lived on twenty-three. Great, they’d ride most of the way with a third wheel.

  She caught Tyler’s gaze on her through the shine of the doors. His eyes were so mischievous, showing her all the naughty things he was going to do to her as soon as they were alone. God, he was insatiable, and he made her feel the same. She’d always had a healthy sex drive, but he was threatening to wear her out. She felt her stomach clench, knowing he would make good on every promise within his hot stare. The blonde seemed unaware of the silent conversation they were having, thank God.

  The floors crawled by as Layla let her imagination rove over all the possibilities of spending the next twelve hours in Tyler’s arms. Fourth floor. Fifth. Her eyes slid closed on a particu
larly delicious thought as the elevator dinged. She opened her eyes and glided back farther. They’d stopped on six, where a man got on. Tyler pushed the suitcase to his left side so she could move to stand in front of him. She felt the heat of his body through her thin dress, the cool air slipping between her bare thighs, chilling her slick folds. On the right of her body, she felt Tyler’s hand slide under the hem of the dress. She forced herself not to react, not to let everyone in the small space know how close she was to coming. His fingers stilled a moment, and she heard a soft groan behind her as he caressed her bare hip.

  That’s right, baby. No panties. Just for you.

  He swirled his hand around and around her hip, making her want to scream. She looked up to search for the camera. It was on the other side, unable to see his hand behind her and the suitcase. Tyler must’ve known where it was and situated them perfectly. The elevator slowed to a stop, and the man got off. Eighth floor. The doors closed again, and they kept going up. So did his hand. They stopped on ten. God, this was a busy building. Damn it.

  She didn’t know if she could take thirteen more floors of this, but she didn’t seem to have much choice in the matter. He didn’t show any signs of stopping. She made a move to step back, but he shifted with her, again not letting her get any closer. The sole contact she had with him was his scalding fingers against her hip. He was driving her insane. Her throat was devoid of moisture, all of it having shot straight to her core. His hand slid almost to that spot, just a few inches away, but he didn’t touch her there. Wouldn’t let her find the release, the relief, she so desperately needed.

  She might come silently standing there, in an elevator full of people, if he reached just a bit farther. God, she needed him to. He was torturing her. They fucking stopped again, and the blonde got out. Finally alone, she grabbed his hand and moved it down where she wanted it. Where she needed his touch. She stepped back and leaned her head against him and moaned. He flicked her clit once, twice, three times.