by Kate Hewitt
“I bet you do.” She could feel the rough hair of Jaiven’s legs against her own; his arousal pressing insistently between her legs. She stifled a moan of pure longing. Jaiven nipped at her earlobe, sending sizzling arrows of sensation shooting throughout her body, before he scooped her easily in his arms and brought her to the bedroom of the hotel suite. He deposited her on the silky, slippery duvet before joining her there, his mouth finding her breast, his hand seeking between her thighs.
Louise arched off the bed, her body short-circuiting with sensory overload. It had been a really long time since she’d felt anything like this.
Her hands clawed at the sheets as Jaiven moved his mouth down her body, tongue licking and teasing as he found her navel, her hip, and then—
“Oh dear heaven.”
She bucked under his knowing mouth, her body ablaze as he hooked her legs over his shoulders, her climax coming so fast and hard she barely had time to catch a breath. She let out a sound somewhere between a sob and a shout, and gently Jaiven lowered her legs.
“That was easy,” he murmured, but Louise was too overwhelmed by the aftershocks of her orgasm to be embarrassed.
“It’s been a while,” she said with a shaky laugh, and Jaiven pressed a kiss against her middle.
“I gathered that.”
And even though she was still recovering from that last wave of pleasure, she could feel a pressure building up inside her once more, and as Jaiven touched her with such knowing expertise, she felt that restless ache again.
It seemed an age before he finally gave her what her body had been clamoring for; he rolled on a condom and then slid inside her so she gasped at the sudden sense of completion she felt. She wrapped her legs around his waist and arched into him, meeting him thrust for thrust, clumsily at first because it had been so long and then remembering the rhythm.
And then exploding into fragments, the pieces of her tightly held self scattering under the force of their shared climax.
Afterward she lay underneath him, his heart thundering against hers, her face tucked into his shoulder. She’d forgotten how intimate sex was. It seemed crazy that people could have dozens or hundreds of lovers, that they would share this experience with anyone they didn’t truly care about.
And yet she just had. She didn’t care about Jaiven; she didn’t even know him. And what notch was she on his bedpost? About seven thousand?
Squirming a little, she rolled out from under him. He let her go, falling onto his back as he watched with an amused, knowing little smile.
“Thanks for that,” Louise said, inwardly cringing at the ridiculousness of her words. But what did you say to someone who had essentially just serviced you? Of course, he’d had his share of pleasure. But when she’d agreed to go back to this hotel with Jaiven she hadn’t quite taken into consideration the awkwardness of the afterward.
She needed to get out of there fast.
*
Thanks for that?
Amused, Jaiven watched as Louise hunted around for her clothes, having obviously forgotten that they were in the living room. He quickly took care of the condom before rising onto one elbow as he watched her search through the scattered bedclothes.
“If you’re looking for those impressive underpants, they’re in the other room.”
“Ah, right.” She averted her face, her hair coming down to swing against her cheek in a soft, dark waterfall. Then she hurried from the room, presumably in search of her clothes.
Jaiven gave her about thirty seconds before he followed, lounging in the doorway as he watched her hunt for her underthings. There was something inherently sexy, he mused, about a naked woman looking for clothes. She grabbed her dress, held it to her body as she went in search of her bra and pants.
“You don’t have to go quite so soon, you know,” Jaiven offered lazily. “I was just getting started.”
She shot him one quick, surprised look. “I’m good. And I’ve got essays to mark.”
Essays to mark? She was leaving his bed so she could grade a bunch of college papers? He would be offended if he didn’t think that Louise leaving like this was for the best.
It had been fairly obvious from the moment she’d walked into the hotel room that she didn’t play by his rules. One-night stands were the aberration rather than the norm. And since he didn’t do any messy emotion or serious sentiment, it was better all around if Louise beat a hasty retreat.
Except he didn’t want her to go.
He watched as she found the last of her clothes and clutched the whole bundle to her as she searched rather wildly for the bathroom.
“Through the bedroom,” he offered.
She muttered her thanks as she headed for the bathroom, only to come to an abrupt and awkward halt in front of him.
Slowly she tilted her head up to meet his gaze. “I think you need to move.”
“You’re not going to run away now, are you?”
“I’m not running away,” she snapped, her clothes still pressed to her chest. “I told you, I have stuff to do.” Her cheeks reddened again, rather adorably. And Jaiven wasn’t used to thinking of women as adorable. But then everything about Louise had confounded him; even the sex had been surprising.
He’d always viewed sex as a tit-for-tat type of exchange; he gave pleasure in order to receive it. But the giving of pleasure had never been more than a necessary part of the bargain…until tonight.
Until Louise Jensen had come alive under his mouth and hands, and her response had made his own pleasure all the sweeter. Deeper.
“You have stuff to do at eleven o’clock on a Saturday night?” He arched an eyebrow, challenging her to keep his gaze. She did, and he admired her for it. She might be shy, uncertain, embarrassed, but Louise Jensen possessed a strength and confidence all of her own. He found he liked it.
“Look, both you and I know what this is,” she said, lifting her chin a notch. “A one-night stand. And as you’ve probably guessed, I’m not well versed in the protocol.”
“I guessed,” Jaiven agreed in a murmur. She’d caught her lower lip between her teeth and just that thoughtless little gesture had desire rushing through him again. No way was she ducking out of here now.
“So I think it’s easier all around if I just leave.”
“How is it easier, Louise?” He braced his arm against the doorjamb, blocking any exit she might have been hoping to have. “You’ve come this far, and I mean that in all sorts of ways.”
“Your double entrendres are so charming.”
“Secretly I think you like them.” He took a step closer to her, so her breasts brushed his bare chest. He felt her shudder, or maybe it was his response he felt, because that was strong, too. Overwhelming.
“I’ll say please,” he answered in a low voice. Gooseflesh rippled across her skin and she shivered. “Please stay. Please let me make love to you again.”
“There’s no love about this,” she retorted, and Jaiven stilled, his eyes narrowing.
“No, there isn’t. Is that a problem?” His voice had turned cool, and she noticed the change in tone, glancing up at him with a wry smile.
“Don’t worry, hotshot. Trust me—I am not angling for a wedding ring.”
“That’s a relief.”
“Or even breakfast.”
“I’m not stingy. I’ll buy you coffee.”
“Gee, thanks.”
“And a bagel.”
“Oh, okay then.” She laughed, that dirty, knowing sound that had him hauling her naked body against his.
“That’s better,” he murmured, and then he kissed her. Her mouth was incredibly soft and sweet, and her response so wonderfully uninhibited and yet surprisingly innocent. She kissed with a clumsy enthusiasm he wasn’t used to; his encounters were always with women who knew what they wanted and just how to get it.
A few minutes later they found their way to the bed. An hour later, it was the shower, against the wall, the water beating down on them. And then the sofa. And by dawn they we
re back in bed again, Louise cuddled up against him as he finally fell asleep.
*
Louise ached in all sorts of places she’d forgotten she had. Talk about breaking a dry spell. She’d had more sex in the past eight hours than she’d had in a decade.
And it had been amazing sex. Truly mind-blowing, out of this world, orgasmic sex. Jaiven Rodriguez set her body on fire.
Too bad it was only one night. Although another couple of nights like this one might kill her.
Carefully she eased away from him. It was just before six in the morning and she needed to go. Needed to get back to her normal life.
Maybe sex with Jaiven had been so good because they both knew it wasn’t going anywhere. The lack of an emotional connection had made the physical one more intense.
Maybe.
She slipped from the bed, pausing a moment to look at him; asleep he seemed softer. Gentler, somehow. His thick, dark lashes feathered his cheeks, and his lips were slightly parted.
She dropped her gaze a little lower and examined the tattoo on his neck. She’d licked it at some point that evening, when her inhibitions had well and truly scattered. Now she saw it was comprised of several swirls, with three dots in the center. She wondered if it had any meaning, and knew she would never know him well enough to ask.
What kind of man was he, anyway? Clearly one who didn’t go for relationships, but had had a lot of sex. One who was successful, because she knew from her quick internet search that he’d built JR Shipping from nothing.
But beyond those elementary facts, she had no real knowledge or understanding of the man she’d just been incredibly intimate with.
The realization made her sad, although she couldn’t have even said why. Maybe she wasn’t cut out for casual sex. Perhaps that was why she’d married Jack even though on some level she must have known he wasn’t husband material.
Just like Jaiven Rodgriguez wasn’t husband material.
Her mouth twitched in a smile even as a sigh escaped her. Not that she would harbor such romantic fantasies for this man even for a millisecond. She wasn’t quite that stupid.
But she knew she needed to leave before he awoke and made love to her again, because she was just needy enough to confuse sex with love even though on every analytical level she knew what a ridiculous mistake that was. She was a professor of Women’s Studies, for heaven’s sake. In her Introduction to Feminist Studies lecture she talked about women reclaiming their bodies.
Well, maybe she’d reclaimed hers tonight. Walked the talk.
And now it was over.
Another little sigh escaped her as she slid out of bed. She gathered her clothes quickly and dressed in the living room before she quietly opened the door to the suite and stepped out into the hallway of the hotel. It was the kind of upscale place that still seemed seedy, or maybe she just felt that way. She’d never sneaked out of a hotel room at dawn in the clothes she’d worn the night before.
Chalk it up to a new experience, and not a particularly pleasant one. Her hair was a mess and she had a terrible taste in her mouth. And all that pleasure was trickling into embarrassment and guilt.
Time to go home, she told herself as she buttoned up her coat and began walking briskly toward the elevator. Time to go back to real life and forget Jaiven Rodriguez had ever existed.
As if.
Chapter Three
IT HAD BEEN three days since Louise Jensen had crept out of his bed at dawn, and he was still annoyed. Jaiven spun around in his chair in his penthouse office at JR Shipping’s headquarters in the Bronx and let out an impatient sigh.
He shouldn’t really be annoyed, he knew. She’d just made life easier for him. No awkward goodbyes or tedious chitchat over breakfast. He hadn’t even had to buy her coffee. Or a bagel. Really, he should be thanking her.
But he was still annoyed. He was the one who left, who showed women the door if he didn’t take it first. He didn’t wake up in an empty bed reaching for someone who wasn’t there.
Except three days ago he had.
And he damn well hadn’t liked the feeling. The dissatisfaction, the disappointment, the restless ache and the sexual frustration. Nope, he hadn’t liked any of that.
This wasn’t some stupid macho thing, he realized. It wasn’t just about being the one to call the shots. He wasn’t that much of an ass, even if plenty of women might think otherwise.
He just wasn’t ready to be finished with Louise. He wanted more of her. Her lush curves, her dirty laugh, her chunky glasses. And more than that; he wanted her strange mix of shyness and aggression, her unrestrained, enthusiastic response, her snappy comebacks. He wanted the whole package.
And why shouldn’t he have it?
He’d slept with women for longer than a night before. On several occasions he’d managed a whole week before he called it off. Why shouldn’t he have more with Louise?
She knew his rules, and just in case she forgot he’d make it abundantly clear that all he wanted was sex and more sex. Maybe a week’s worth.
Then they’d both move on.
It was, Jaiven decided, the perfect solution. Now he just had to decide how to go about it.
As he considered various possibilities, he scrolled through JR Shipping’s list of deliveries for the day. Besides the same-day shipping service to anywhere in North America and express service in most parts of the world, he ran a sideline, the original business he’d started as a nineteen-year-old ex-con with a beat-up van—he provided messenger services within the five boroughs.
And as he scrolled through that list, he saw that Columbia University had several deliveries scheduled for that day. He hadn’t personally handled any deliveries in well over a decade, but he might make an exception for today. For Louise. He liked the idea of surprising her while she was in her professor mode. Making her lose control. Again.
Quickly he did an internet search for Louise, saw she was an associate professor of Women’s Studies. Her office was on Amsterdam Avenue, and today she was going to get a special delivery from JR Shipping. From JR himself, actually.
Smiling, Jaiven powered off his laptop and headed out.
*
Louise reread the introductory paragraph of the essay she was meant to mark for the third time before finally giving up and pushing it away. She couldn’t focus, hadn’t been able to since she’d left Jaiven Rodriguez’s bed three days ago.
Wasn’t sex supposed to energize you, make you more rested and relaxed and productive? It had done the opposite for her. She’d felt edgy and restless for three days, and had stared at the ceiling most nights reliving her eight hours with Jaiven in all of its excruciating and exquisite detail.
Now that it was over she felt incredibly embarrassed by what she’d done. What kind of woman agreed to have sex in a hotel room with a stranger?
Plenty of women, probably. Maybe most of her students. But she never had. She’d had exactly two sexual partners before Jaiven. Her husband, Jack, and then briefly a boyfriend five years ago, who had been the wrong person at the wrong time. She’d still been trying to get over the train wreck of her marriage, but she hadn’t been ready to trust or love. Maybe she never would be.
And maybe she shouldn’t have thought she could handle a one-night stand. She’d wanted the oblivion of pleasure and she’d had that—for a night. But now? Now she felt a restless mix of want and guilt, unease and dissatisfaction. She still wanted Jaiven.
Not that he was beating down her door, in any case. She doubted he’d spared her so much as a thought since she’d left the hotel suite. He’d probably moved on several times since her. It had been three nights, after all.
Sighing impatiently, she turned back to the essay. Women’s individual resistance to pronatalist policies under Communist governments…
Ugh. She had no space in her brain for this. Maybe she should get out, grab a coffee or go for a walk. Clear her head, restore her equilibrium. Anything to somehow appease this aching restlessness inside her.
Unfortunately she had a feeling the only way to appease that would be another round with Jaiven, and she wasn’t willing to go there. He probably wasn’t, either.
So she’d just have to deal with it the normal way: work and exercise. Eventually she’d forget him. Her body would, too.
Restless, she checked her in-box before heading out for a coffee, surprised when an email popped in from someone named Nora Grant.
Dear Ms. Jensen, I’m writing to you about a former student of yours, Harlow Spencer. I believe you were her advisor on her senior thesis. She went to London for a law internship and has been missing for several weeks. I wondered if I could talk to you at your earliest convenience? Sincerely, Nora Grant.
Frowning, Louise recalled the young woman in question. Harlow Spencer. Tall, willowy, long chestnut hair, with a sharp mind and a surprising ambition. Louise had advised her on a thesis on sex trafficking last year, and then Harlow had left for London soon after graduation. And now she was missing? What did that mean, exactly?
Her frown deepening, she clicked Reply. Dear Nora, I’m sorry to hear about your concerns with Harlow. I’m not sure how I could be of help, but I’m happy to meet—
A quick rap on the door of her office surprised her and she looked up from her laptop.
“Special delivery.”
Department deliveries went to reception, not a hole-in-the-wall office on the second floor. “I’m not expecting a delivery,” she said as she opened the door, and then her jaw dropped because Jaiven was standing in the doorway, a parcel in his hands and a canary-eating grin on his face.
“What…” She trailed off, unable to think. He wore the dark green button-down shirt and trousers of the JR Shipping delivery guys, and a pair of beat-up work boots.
“Like I said, special delivery.” He sauntered past her into her office, which was the size of a shoe box and felt even smaller with Jaiven in it.
Louise turned to face him, her arms folded. “Why do I think you don’t usually make deliveries for the company you’re CEO of?”
“This is a special circumstance.”
“I wasn’t aware of a special circumstance.” What she was aware of, Louise thought, was how amazing Jaiven looked even in a delivery uniform, the sleeves of his shirt rolled up to expose his powerful, brown forearms. He’d placed the package on her desk and was now leaning against it, his arms folded in front of him. How anyone could think he was a mere delivery boy for even a moment was beyond Louise. He radiated both power and charisma.