by Rhonda James
"Thank you." I offer a strained smile and hold up the pink slip. "This was very kind of you," I add before backing away.
When I round the corner, there’s a crowd waiting for the elevator, so I step off to the side and fire off a quick text.
Me: Flight rescheduled. Staying one more night.
Cage: Hey, about that interview, stay strong, bro. Something better will come along.
Me: Yeah, I know. For now, that something will be liquid gold and goes by the name José.
Cage: Nice! U still picking me up at the airport on Wednesday?
Me: I'll be there.
Cage: Just be sure and bring your car. I don’t think that iron suit of yours has pockets to carry my luggage, and I forgot to pack my cape.
Me: Idiot.
Cage: Asshole.
CHAPTER THREE
LANEY
I’m not sure where I’m headed, but I turn and run blindly down the corridor without looking back. I’m fairly certain Noah isn’t chasing me, but that doesn’t lessen my desperation. Seeing him took all of the feelings I thought I had buried and brought them to the surface. Running away seemed like my only option. I don’t love him. Not anymore. But my reaction to seeing him proves one thing.
I need to move on.
I round the corner and come to the lobby, where I find a group of people piling onto an open elevator. I slip between a few bodies and am soon being pushed toward the back of the elevator car. The door closes, and I breathe out a sigh of relief. It’s only after the car begins to climb that I realize I never pressed the button for my floor.
That’s when I see him.
A man who takes my breath away. I’ve heard that expression before, but until now, I never actually experienced it. He looks to be about my age, and my mind immediately begins ticking off everything I like about him.
Tailored Armani suit. Dirty blond hair that curls up at the nape of his neck. Broad shoulders. Strong, capable-looking hands. And the bluest eyes I’ve ever seen.
The eye color is a bit tricky to pinpoint, but at one point, he makes a quick glance around the small space and I’m treated to a glimpse of their beauty.
From the safety of my position, tucked behind a woman with exceptionally large hair, I watch him for the remainder of the ride. He’s a nice distraction to what I’m running from, and the longer I watch him, the more I want to know. So when the elevator doors open and he gets off on the sixty-fifth floor, I do the only logical thing that comes to mind.
I follow him.
I don’t stop and think about what I’m going to do when I catch up with him; all I know is when he opens the door to his room, I rush in behind him with my hands out in front of me and give him a hearty shove.
"What the fu—?" He spins around with his fists drawn and is clearly taken aback when he finds me in his room. Uncertain of what to do next, I back up against the door until it closes behind me.
His eyes burn right through me as they take in my appearance. I’m sure I must look a mess, but he just keeps staring. Despite the snarl he’s wearing on his face, it’s clear he likes what he sees.
Now that I’m here, I’m not sure how to go about explaining my reason for barging into his room. So I do the first thing that comes to mind.
I lie.
"Shh," I whisper while holding a finger up to my lips.
His brows immediately rocket skyward. "Like hell I'll shh! Who are you? And what the fuck are you doing in my room? Get out!"
"Keep your voice down!" I hiss then push myself away from the door. “Don't worry, I'll be out of your hair in no time. I just need a place to hide out for a few minutes. No biggie." I toss in a backwards wave of my hand for good measure.
I figure now that I’ve come this far, I might as well keep up the charade. Besides, I’m rather enjoying being this close to him.
I breeze past him as if I belong here and stop short when I take in my surroundings. Holy shit! This place is huge! For a moment my bravado falters, but I throw my shoulders back and make my way over to the bank of floor-to-ceiling windows that run the entire length of the suite. I press my forehead to the glass and look down at the street below. While I’m watching the happenings on the street, I’m very aware that he’s checking me out.
When I look up, I see a party taking place at the hotel across the street.
“Hey! There’s a party on the rooftop next door.” Out of curiosity, I step out onto the balcony and he follows me.
The hotel sits a little more than fifty feet away. Music blasts from multiple speakers as guests mingle around the rooftop, protected only by a ten-foot glass enclosure that surrounds the top of the building. There's a swimming pool and hot tub, but right now, both are empty. The rooftop is filled with partygoers, but no one appears to be having a good time.
"They look bored.” My mouth curls into a frown. “For fuck’s sake. They're at a party, the weather is perfect, and they're playing killer music. How the hell can they be bored?”
"I don't know." He offers a half-assed shrug and leans over the railing for a better look. "Maybe their view isn't as nice as ours. Think about it. We look over and see women dressed in Valentino, standing around a buffet of champagne and king crab. Meanwhile, they look over and see a guy dressed in Armani and a beautiful woman wearing a Donna Karan knockoff. If you ask me, I think all of us need to shake things up a little bit. Make things more interesting.”
CHAPTER FOUR
DEREK
She remains quiet, while I study the scene before me, reminded of all the parties I was forced to attend with my parents.
I would be the lone teenager taking up residence at a corner table and drinking all the alcohol I could swallow. I didn’t have to worry about not being old enough to be served. They were charity events, swarming with high-profile businessmen and their lonely wives. While the men mingled and talked negotiations, their wives would gossip. Those who weren’t gossiping or hanging on their husband’s arm were usually on the prowl for anyone who would give them at least fifteen minutes of their undivided attention. Enter: me, seventeen and bored off my ass, eager for anything to take my mind off my current predicament. After five Manhattans and a well-placed manicured hand, I would be rock hard and willing. I’m embarrassed to say I’ve lost count of how many lipstick colors have been wrapped around my cock.
“Thank you,” she whispers, and the quiet of her voice brings me back to the here and now.
“For what?” I give her a sideways glance.
“You called me beautiful.”
“Oh, did I? Hmm, I didn’t realize I did.” I feign ignorance and twist my body around to face her.
Her coffee-colored eyes crinkle as she cocks her head to one side and laughs. ”Yeah, you did, and don’t even try to deny it. I caught you checking out my ass earlier.” She lightly jabs my chest with the tip of her finger before making her way to the other side of the balcony, giving me a perfect view of said amazing ass. “Tell me something. Are you rich or just really good at pretending?”
"Huh?" I give her a blank look, clearly not following because I’ve been too busy envisioning her perfectly shaped ass pressed up against the glass while I have my way with her. Jeezus, I have a one-track mind. I blink a few times, trying to erase the image, but my mind stubbornly refuses to let it go. There’s just something about her that has me mesmerized.
She's tall and thin, but not that boney kind of thin. No. This girl has some bangin' curves. Jet-black hair frames her beautiful face, and the soft curls that hang loosely over one shoulder are a stark contrast to her creamy-white skin. The short black dress she's wearing leaves little to the imagination, but that doesn't stop mine from wandering to places it probably shouldn’t go. At least not this soon.
"Hello? Earth to hottie." She comes over and snaps her fingers in front of my face. "I was just asking if you were rich, you know, because of your clothes and this room.” Her hand waves over my torso. “It's pretty awesome." Her voice trails as she walks back insid
e, and I can’t help but follow.
"No. I'm not rich." The half-truth slips easily past my lips. I don't know this girl, so I don't feel a pressing need to divulge my personal information to a complete stranger. Besides, while my bank account may be well-stocked, it's not money I've earned. My parents are well off, but the money I have is in a trust fund, left to me when my grandfather passed away. "I'm just visiting Atlanta for a job interview. They paid for the room, and I wasn't about to argue when I found out it was a suite.”
“If you’re not rich, then how is it a guy your age can afford an Armani suit and be able to spot that my dress is a knockoff? Not to mention you even knew the designer they were trying to copy,” she challenges.
“So, who's this guy you're hiding from?" I ask, choosing to ignore her question as I head for the mini bar. Once there, I grab two glasses along with the bottle of tequila I packed before leaving Michigan.
"Care to join me?" I hold up the bottle, the weight of the day catching up with me as I make my way to one of the sofas. I pour myself a hefty shot before looking to her for an answer. She merely nods, so I pour a smaller shot for her. I can't help smirking when she motions with two fingers for me to keep pouring before she takes a seat directly across from me.
"Bottoms up." I slide the glass her way and lift mine in a silent toast, as does she, then down its contents. The fact she can slam the double shot without even grimacing is not lost on me. She lowers the glass, her pink tongue circling her lips to savor every last drop, and my dick twitches with envy.
“What makes you think I’m hiding from someone?”
Leaning back against the plush cushions, I work open the knot on my tie then leave it hanging around my neck as I undo the top two buttons of my shirt to make myself more comfortable. Her eyes track my every move and, as if reading my mind, she silently slides her glass my way.
“Judging by the way you’re dressed”—I wave my hand over her frame—“and your need to seek refuge, I’m curious what you were trying to escape from. Must have been pretty bad to send you running all the way to the sixty-fifth floor.”
“Ugh, so bad.” She rolls her eyes while heaving out a sigh. “There’s a wedding reception downstairs. I’m supposed to be there, but all of it got to be too much. I just couldn’t deal with him. All of it. I had to get out of there.”
“And by him you mean… Boyfriend?"
"Ex," she stresses emphatically, bringing the glass to her mouth. The look she gives tells me she’s impressed by my perceptiveness. “He thinks we should get back together." Her eyes softly close when the liquid warms the back of her throat. "Mmm." The moan passes quietly through her lips and lands directly on my cock with an almighty roar.
"And you don’t?” The scowl on her face answers my question. “Guess that explains the look." My dick strains against the fabric of my suit, so I lift one leg to rest my ankle over my knee, hoping the change in position will mask the awkward development while alleviating my discomfort.
"What look?" She frowns, helping herself to the bottle without bothering to fill my glass, and proceeds to down two more double shots. I lean over and drag the bottle back to my side of the coffee table.
The warm liquid slides smoothly down my throat, and I feel myself starting to relax. Three shots of tequila won't get me drunk, but they sure do a great job of taking the edge off. And I’m not done.
From where I'm seated, I'm in a prime position to check out her legs. She has great legs. Making no apology for my behavior, I allow my gaze to travel from the delicate taper of her ankle all the way past her sexy knees.
A gentleman would stop there and walk her back to her room, ensuring she makes it back safely.
A gentleman would thank her for an amazing evening, kiss the back of her hand, then say good night at the door.
I know that's what I should do.
Say good night and spend the rest of the evening drinking. Alone.
But I'm no gentleman. At least, not for tonight.
I'm a single guy.
She's hot as sin.
Not to mention, my dick is harder than granite and aching to be buried inside her.
She meets my heated gaze, returning it with one of her own, then parts her knees ever so slightly to reveal toned thighs and black panties.
“What look?” she repeats her question.
"The look of desperation on your face," I answer dryly, trying hard not to stare at the jewelry that peeks out from behind the nearly see-through material.
Her brow rises and her mouth falls open in annoyance as she leans forward, giving me an eyeful of ample cleavage.
"Desperate? Tell me something, Ace, do I look desperate to you?"
"I was referring to the way you looked when you barged into my room," I argue vaguely, my attention consumed by what's on the other side of that lace.
A playful smile forms as she dips one finger to the bottom of the glass and brings it up to trace her painted lips. Those same lips part as her finger slowly slides in and out while her tongue makes slow circles around it.
The act is hot as hell, and this time I forgo being discreet and adjust my cock while she watches.
"Uh huh," she says slowly. "I can assure you I have no intention of getting back with that asshole." She runs a hand absently through her thick mane of hair, mussing it just a little, and somehow the end result is sexier than before. "Well, how would you describe me now? Do I still look desperate?" She walks over, wavering just a touch, and steps into the open space between my legs as I look up at her. While I realize the alcohol may be increasing her bravado, I couldn’t be more turned on if I tried. I love when a woman isn't afraid to take what she wants.
"Right now? No." My tongue sweeps languidly over my bottom lip as she lowers her face to mine and nods. "I'd say you look like a woman in need of an escape. You’re looking to forget past mistakes by making new ones. Maybe you want someone who'll fuck you hard then walk away without expectations. Someone who'll lick your pussy and tell you how much he loves sliding his cock inside you. And you'll love all of it. His mouth. His hands. His cock."
My voice sounds gruff and full of need, and I begin to wonder which one of us needs this escape I’m talking about. "But when your time together comes to an end, you'll walk away, carrying with you only the memory of how great it felt to let yourself go and the marks he left on your skin when he gave you the single greatest night of your life."
Her body visibly reacts to my words.
"I see,” she answers slowly, inching her hips a little closer. I don’t bother hiding the smug smile already forming on my lips. “And in this little scenario, are you that guy?"
"Only if you want me to be, sweetheart.”
"Good answer." The back of her hand brushes tentatively over my cheek as she blows out a shaky breath. "So, tell me, are you one of those guys who likes to wine and dine a girl? Or do you just want—"
Her words abruptly stop when the pad of my thumb skims across her barely covered mound, confirming my earlier suspicion. Her clit is pierced, and now I can't wait to get my mouth on her.
Can't wait to drive her crazy with my tongue.
"Whoa. Guess that answers my question." While her body responds confidently, her words bear the slightest hint of hesitation. While I’m all for taking this to the next level, I’m not going to push her into something she’s not ready for.
Her chin drops toward her chest and she narrows her eyes at me. “I hope you know I didn’t come here with the intention of seducing you.”
“Yet, here we are,” I retort, flashing her my best dimpled smile.
She responds with a throaty laugh, hands bracing on the top of my shoulders as she rocks slowly against my hand. Our eyes remain locked as my fingers tease over her, touching everything but the piercing. Each time my fingers come close to her clit, her breathing accelerates and she makes this sound that damn near has me salivating with want, driving me crazy until I can’t take it any longer. I need to see this piercing. N
eed to feel it against my tongue. I stand, breaking our connection, and she elicits a quiet groan. Dragging my fingers over the curve of her hip, I slowly make my way higher and brush the pad of my thumb across hardened peaks that strain against the fabric covering them.
Her breasts are round, firm, and more than a handful. Even through two layers of fabric, I know both nipples are pierced. I pause my exploration and narrow my gaze.
“Barbells,” she states, answering my unspoken question.
I long to draw those barbells into my mouth and tease, just to test how sensitive they really are. I’ve never been with a woman who had her nipples pierced, but I’ve fantasized about it. Hell, I can’t believe I’m about to fulfill two fantasies in one night.
Most of the girls on campus stick with the more obvious piercings. Belly button, nose, maybe even an eyebrow or two. But her clit? Forget about it. I’m willing to bet there are a few who have ventured down that road. I have yet to meet them, but right now, I don’t want to think about them. All of my attention is consumed by the goddess before me. I get the impression this girl isn’t like most of the girls who chase after hockey players. Some of those girls are willing to settle for a fast fuck, just so they can brag about it later. This girl’s body screams sensuality.
A girl like this deserves nothing short of an evening filled with the very best I have to offer. I’m up for the challenge, and I’m willing to bet I can make her squirm within seconds.
“Tell me something, gorgeous. You feel like shaking things up?”
CHAPTER FIVE
DEREK
Her brows knit together in confusion before realization settles over her soft features. Lifting her in my arms, I move over to the window and press her firmly back against the glass. Her head tips back when my lips settle on the soft space below her right ear lobe, and as my tongue dances over her heated skin, She tastes even better than I imagined she would. With one hand pressed against the glass, I ease the other inside her panties, circling her entrance with my fingers before spreading all that sticky wetness up through her slit. When the tips of my fingers come in contact with the jeweled barbell, she releases a throaty moan that goes directly to my balls.