by Kate Hewitt
Get over yourself, she thought crossly. You have a rewarding career, a lovely apartment, a small but close group of friends. There was absolutely no reason to feel sorry for herself.
Except she’d just turned down what she really wanted, and he was standing across the room. The only tempting offer of sex, of any kind of physical intimacy, she’d had in a decade.
Not that there hadn’t been other offers: a brief and unremarkable relationship with another grad student at Columbia; a blind date that had been excruciating in its awkwardness and, even more awkward, a pass made by Pete, the neighbor who had looked after her cat when she’d gone to San Diego to present a paper on women’s changing roles in the workplace.
Louise had thought he’d been inviting her in to retrieve Mallow’s litter box. He’d tried to pull her into a clumsy embrace while she’d been going for the box and the result hadn’t been pretty. Cat litter and kisses didn’t go so well together. Neither had she and Pete.
Sighing, she decided it was time to call it a night.
She caught Chelsea’s eye from across the room and waved a farewell; her sister made an apologetic face and waved back. She got it, Louise knew, and she wouldn’t try to cajole her into staying a little longer.
Louise handed her ticket to the young woman behind the coat check, slid her arms into the sleeves of her black wool trench coat. It was April, but there was still a nip in the night air.
In the lift down to the lobby she pulled out her phone and for curiosity’s sake—that ship had sailed, after all—she did an internet search for Jaiven Rodriguez. Half a million websites immediately came up, and she soon saw why: Jaiven Rodriguez was the founder and CEO of JR Shipping, one of the largest delivery services in the world. No wonder his name had sounded familiar.
And you could have had him in bed.
With a shake of her head she slipped her phone into her pocket and stepped outside the Plaza Hotel, breathed in the smell of New York: taxi fumes and litter and that inexplicable, muggy steam that rose from the subway grates, and over it all the damp freshness of a wet spring night. She dug her hands into her pockets and started across the Grand Army Plaza toward the park. She’d walk for a little bit, she decided, and clear her head.
She’d just crossed Fifty-Ninth Street and was turning left toward Sixth Avenue when she heard the sputter of a motorbike behind her. She tensed, because it was night in New York and she was a woman alone; instinctively she reached into her pocket for the small can of pepper spray she kept attached to her key chain.
The sputtering stopped, and a voice rumbled out her name. “Louise.”
Slowly she turned. Jaiven Rodriguez eased off his helmet as he smiled at her with such knowledge, such assurance. If Jaiven Rodgriguez at a party had been hard to resist, then the man on a motorbike was damn near impossible.
You don’t like bad boys, she reminded herself. You have had way too much experience with one in particular to make this remotely appealing.
Too bad her brain wasn’t listening. Although in actuality it wasn’t her brain that was responding to Jaiven. It was her body, and her body was saying yes.
Yes, take what he’s offering and go with it for a night. When was the last time she’d been so much as touched? Accepting a parcel from her postman did not count.
And at least a night with Jaiven Rodriguez would not engage her emotions. No chance of a relationship with this bad boy. No possibility of falling in love. No danger of getting hurt.
Just a basic and overwhelming need finally, wonderfully met.
“Party over?” Jaiven asked, and Louise heard that rich, velvety note of laughter in his voice. She was staring, she realized belatedly. Again.
“Not quite. But I was ready for bed.”
Her whole body tensed in mortification as Jaiven gave her one of his toe-curling smiles. “Good. So am I.”
She stared him down. Almost. “You know I didn’t mean it like that.”
He arched one dark eyebrow. “Didn’t you?”
Hell, maybe she had. Maybe her body was staging a coup over her brain. Resistance was futile.
Still her brain attempted one last feeble attack. “I told you that caveman thing was not attractive, right?”
“Do you see me dragging you onto this bike?”
No, the trouble was she’d get on it, just as she had once before. She’d take whatever a man dished out and ask for more.
Whoa. Jaiven was not Jack. And a one-night stand was not a marriage.
Still… Could she seriously be thinking about this? Getting on a bike with a stranger? God knows where he’d take her. He could strangle her in an alleyway and dump her body in the Hudson River.
The fact that he was a well-known, multimillionaire entrepreneur made that a little more unlikely, but only just.
And yet she was still thinking about it. Maybe it was the knowledge that Chelsea had found some happiness, so she wanted to grab a little for herself. Maybe it was just five years, or really a lifetime, of sexual starvation. Maybe it was this man, looking at her with both assurance and hunger.
She folded her arms, eyed him coolly. “If I get on that bike, you know where this is going, right?”
“A nice hotel on Forty-Sixth Street I know?”
She swallowed. A hotel. It sounded so sordid. But also safe. “And that’s it.”
“You’re talking my language.”
She laughed then, shook her head in disbelief. Was she actually warning Jaiven that she didn’t want a relationship? Talk about unnecessary.
“In any case, though,” Jaiven said in that slow, sexy rumble of a voice, “you can’t get on my bike. I only have one helmet.” She must have looked disbelieving because he chuckled softly. “I ride safe, and I mean that in all sorts of ways.”
“Nice.”
“Glad you think so.”
They stared at each other, the moment spinning out so Louise felt breathless. Her mind emptied of thoughts and her heart started to thud. She really was thinking about doing this. Hot sex with a stranger.
A little voice in her head, a voice that she’d been trying to silence for ten years, whispered that this was a bad idea. She didn’t trust men, not with her heart and not with her body. She wouldn’t be able to stand it if he ended up humiliating her, rejecting her. She could not bear to feel that way again, not for so much as five seconds.
She took a step backward.
“Looks like it’s not going to work out.”
“You give up awfully easy.”
She shrugged. “Some things aren’t meant to be.”
“And yet we left the party at the same time, met up out here. Seems like fate to me.”
A thrill ran through her. He was trying. He really did want her.
Maybe she could do this. Maybe this was actually what she needed.
“So what do you suggest?” she asked. “If you won’t let me on your bike? And that was not some double entrendre, by the way.”
“I’ll meet you at the hotel. You can take a cab. It’s The Black Book on Forty-Sixth and Seventh Avenue. The penthouse suite.”
“The penthouse suite? What, do you have a standing reservation?”
He gave her another slow smile. “Something like that.”
So he kept an expensive suite on permanent reservation for his one-night stands? Charming.
But then, this night wasn’t about charming. It was about sex. Hot, raw, primal sex.
“How long will you wait?” she asked, and he cocked his head, swept her in a thoroughly assessing gaze.
“Twenty minutes.”
Louise let out a choked laugh. Twenty minutes? That’s all of his time she was worth? “What if there’s traffic?”
He glanced down the near-empty Fifth Avenue. “There won’t be. Twenty minutes should be plenty of time to decide what you want, Louise. Because once you’re through the door, I have no time for regrets or cold feet.”
She felt a shiver run right through her; his tone was utterly implaca
ble. “I consider myself warned.”
“Good.” He settled his helmet back on his head and revved his bike. “See you in twenty minutes,” he said, and sped off into the night.
Chapter Two
IT HAD BEEN seventeen minutes. And thirty seconds. Jaiven prowled through the penthouse suite of the Black Book with restless impatience. He’d been so sure she was going to come. She hadn’t said as much, but he’d seen the way she’d looked at him. Felt her want. It was a mere thirteen blocks from the Plaza to here, so where the hell was she?
Had she actually turned him down?
He went over to the bar that overlooked Bryant Park and poured himself a whisky. Maybe it was just as well, he decided. She’d obviously been a little nervous about negotiating a one-night stand. He’d thought she was ballsy but maybe this kind of thing was out of her element.
And he didn’t sleep with virgins, or even women with little experience. He liked his lovers to be as assured in bed as he was, to know what they wanted and be confident enough to take it. No regrets, no repeats.
Louise Jensen, despite her dirty laugh, didn’t seem to fit that mold. But he still wanted her. Enough to check his watch again and see that nineteen minutes had passed.
Damn it.
He was surprised, he realized, at how disappointed he felt. Sex was simple, and a woman’s company was easily found. All he needed to do was go down to the bar and chat up one of the women he’d already seen there on his way in. Fifteen minutes tops, and he could be back here with a warm and willing body in his bed.
But he didn’t want just any warm and willing body. He wanted Louise. She felt like a challenge, even an enigma; she seemed confident and shy at the same time. He wondered which she would be when it came to sex. Maybe she’d take what she wanted, after all. And maybe he’d let her.
Or maybe not.
A knock sounded at the door. Instinctively Jaiven checked his watch. Twenty minutes exactly. And he had a feeling that was on purpose. A smile curving his lips, he went to open the door.
She stood there tall, straight and proud, her chin lifted, her gray-green gaze clashing with his.
“Exactly twenty minutes,” he said and she shook her head, her mouth curving in a knowing smile that he liked.
“Twenty-one from the moment you left me.”
He laughed, realizing she was right. He hadn’t checked his watch until he’d stopped at a traffic light.
“So, was there traffic?” he asked as he took her by the hand and drew her inside. Her skin was soft and cool; her fingers felt slender and fragile in his.
“No, none.”
“So what took you so long?”
“I wanted to see if you’d wait.” She spoke airily enough, but as Jaiven gazed at her he thought he saw something in her eyes, something hidden and shadowy that both intrigued and alarmed him. He was not going to be soft about a woman. And he couldn’t have her turn needy.
“I was just about to leave.”
She eyed his half-drunk whiskey on the side table, the tuxedo jacket he’d shed on a chair, and arched an eyebrow. “Is that right?”
He laughed again, liking her attitude, and because he didn’t want to wait anymore he drew her to him, sliding his hands up to cradle her face. Her cheeks were as cold as her hands. “Good thing I’m a patient man,” he murmured, and then he kissed her.
*
That first kiss felt like an electric shock, or maybe being doused in ice water. Everything in her jolted with sensation; it had been so long since she’d been kissed she’d forgotten she had lips, and how good it felt to have someone else’s on them.
She opened her mouth, wrapped her hands around his lapels as she pulled him closer. She needed this. Needed to be reminded she was alive and desirable.
As she kissed him she pushed off his jacket, fumbled with the studs of his tuxedo shirt. Damn those fiddly things. Why couldn’t tuxedo shirts have regular buttons?
“Whoa.” Jaiven eased back, wrapping his hands around her own so they remained trapped and stilled against his chest. She could feel the steady thud of his heart, beating at a far slower rate than her own. “No need to rush.”
Yes, there was every need. Because if she didn’t rush she’d start to think and then she’d start to fear and regret. He’d told her no cold feet and no regrets when she walked through that door, and so here she was holding up her end of the bargain. He needed to hold up his and get his game on. “No need to wait, either,” she said. She leaned forward to kiss him—and missed.
His mouth quirked slightly as he leaned back out of range. “Forgive me if I like to take my time.”
And then he kissed her again, his hands still wrapped around hers, forcing her to be still. To be slow.
And God help her, but the man could kiss. His tongue traced the seam of her lips before delving inside, sweeping the contours of her mouth, teasing a response from her even as he held on to her hands, kept her still.
Louise whimpered. She heard the sound she made and couldn’t even care. It had been so long since anyone had kissed her like this.
Had anyone ever kissed her like this? Jack certainly hadn’t. Jack had—her brain screeched to a halt, but it was too late. Now she was thinking about Jack and panic was taking the place of desire.
Jaiven must have felt the change in her, because even as he deepened the kiss he released her hands. Freed her, and the panic receded as desire washed over her again.
She was not going to let her history ruin this.
She kissed him back, eager again, and yes, rushing, because she really didn’t want to let her brain take over. Jaiven laughed softly against her mouth as he slid one hand down her body, palming her breast before he tugged at the tie of her wrap dress and it fell open, revealing her in all her control-topped glory.
Instinctively Louise broke the kiss, pulling her dress together as humiliation scorched her. So she clearly hadn’t thought this through and considered that Jaiven would see her decidedly unsexy underwear.
“Some low lighting might be good right about now,” she muttered, trying for a laugh, and Jaiven chuckled and shook his head.
“Not a chance. I like a woman with curves.”
Curves she had. Jaiven slipped his hands under her dress, his palms warm against her skin as he pulled her to him. He smoothed a hand down her hip, shaking his head in mock wonder. “They should sell these to the US Army. They must be bulletproof.”
Louise let out a surprised laugh. “Just about.” Still she tried to pull away again. “Let me just go to the bathroom—” And take off her underwear, find something sexy to put on instead. Like a bathrobe, or a towel. Anything but granny pants and a matching bra. She so had not been planning to get lucky tonight.
“I can never resist a challenge,” Jaiven answered, his voice a lazy murmur as he pulled her forward and unhooked her bra with a single twist of his fingers. The pants proved slightly more of a challenge, but with a couple of quick tugs he’d got rid of them and she kicked them off in relief. Realized she was completely naked in front of this man and felt a blush rise over her entire body. The underwear served a purpose, after all.
“Beautiful,” he said softly and cupped her breast in his hand. “Naked except for your glasses. Just about the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.”
Astounded, her jaw dropped. ‘My glasses?”
“The whole package, but yes, I find your glasses a huge turn-on. However—” he slid them from her nose and put them on a side table “—for strenuous activity, they have to go.”
“If you say so,” she muttered, and then her breath hitched as he ran a thumb over the tautened peak of her breast. She gestured to his clothes. She’d abandoned trying to get his shirt off after one difficult stud but she still wanted him naked. “What about you?”
Jaiven smiled wickedly. “What about me?”
“Your clothes.”
“Aren’t you going to do the honors?”
Was she? Louise hesitated, frozen in sudden, u
nspeakable shyness even as she reminded herself she needed to be bold. She wanted to be bold. Wasn’t that what this evening was about? Taking what she wanted, enjoying herself for the first time in ten years? Finding the sexual confidence she’d lost so long ago, if she’d ever had it at all?
“All right, then.” She stepped closer to him, her breasts brushing against the starched crispness of his tuxedo shirt. She gave him a small smile as she attempted to undo the studs, but one of them snagged on the buttonhole. Again.
“Damn but these things are tricky,” she said, and Jaiven laughed softly and with his hand warm and strong over hers, he undid it and all the others.
With his shirt undone Louise had the intense pleasure of pulling it back over his shoulders, letting her fingers trail down the length of his chest. His skin was as warm and smooth and perfect as she’d imagined; his chest hair was crisp and dark. The muscles of his lower belly contracted as she dipped her fingers lower and undid his cummerbund, tossed it aside.
Trousers next and those went easily, whispering down his legs before he kicked them off. The only thing he wore now was black silk boxers and a pair of socks. She went for the boxers first, her hand brushing against the very impressive length of his erection as she got rid of the underwear.
Her body blazed at the sight of him; it had been a long time since she’d seen a man like this. Wanted a man like this.
And suddenly she felt a bubble of near-hysterical laughter rise up in her, because really, what on earth was she doing? She didn’t do one-night stands or casual sex and certainly not with superstuds like Jaiven Rodriguez. He’d seen her control-top underwear, for heaven’s sake.
And yet he was still here, and judging by the size of his arousal, he wanted to be. He wanted her.
Desire crashed over her at the thought.
“You’re not getting cold feet, are you,” Jaiven murmured as he drew her naked body to his, points and curves colliding in exquisite agony. “Because you know what I said about that.”
“Nope,” Louise assured him. “Just kind of amazed this is happening, actually.”
“That’s what I like to hear.”