One Night, White Lies (The Bachelor Pact Book 3)

by Jessica Lemmon

  Jerk.

  “Second thoughts?” Reid’s smooth voice interrupted as the elevator bumped to a soft stop. He was watching her with curiosity and not in recognition, thank goodness.

  “Not at all.” She stepped out when the doors parted, pausing in the long corridor for him to lead the way. He palmed her lower back as they walked side by side, and again she became intently aware of him—of the breadth of his shoulders and warm weight of his hand on her body. Of his comforting presence.

  There was an innate kindness to Reid one might overlook upon first meeting him. Probably because he was insanely gorgeous. That sharp jaw, full mouth and the hint of a dent at the center of his chin were so all-consuming it took a few minutes to realize he was human and not a futuristic sex toy designed solely for a woman’s pleasure. Looking at him was a decadent treat—forget kissing him. Only she’d never, ever forget. Not even when she was ninety and gumming her food.

  At the end of the corridor, Reid guided her to the right to a double-doored suite. He scanned his key, and gestured for her to go in ahead of him.

  The suite was about one hundred times nicer than her room. She’d bunked at a hotel across the street from the convention center. Her room had a rattling air-conditioning unit, pilled, nubby carpet and wall hangings the color of pea soup. She’d have to tell Christina the next time her company offered to send her out of town to upgrade the room if possible.

  Conversely, Reid’s room was modern and posh. No piano, but the palette was a tasteful dove gray and pale ocean blue and minimally decorated with stylish furniture. The door opened to a wide sitting room with a couch and colorful throw pillows. A flat-screen television hung on the wall. A kitchenette and bar were on the opposite side, and the bedroom was visible through an open door across the room. Her eyes snagged on that room for a beat, imagining being laid on that stone-colored bedspread under Reid’s blue-eyed attention...

  Her recently earned confidence took a sudden dip.

  “Nice. This is nice,” she told him, her smile feeling brittle and forced.

  “My company spoils me.” He walked to a desk in the far corner, lifted the phone’s receiver and murmured into it while she meandered around the suite. The bathroom was the size of her entire hotel room, the soaking tub wide enough for three people to sit comfortably.

  “Champagne and strawberries are on their way up.” She turned to see Reid stuff his hands in his pockets, his expression handsome and affable. “You didn’t think I’d bring you up here and strip you bare right away, did you? Where’s the fun in that?”

  He untucked his hands and came to her, cradling her jaw. “If you change your mind at any time, Christina, say the word. I’m not owed anything.”

  “That won’t happen,” she whispered. “I need this more than you know.”

  A flicker of concern sparked in his eyes before a flame of desire crowded it out. She rested both hands on his chest, and he took the invitation to kiss her deeply. The only sounds were the soft suctioning of their mouths and the gentle scrape of the material of her shirt as he moved his palms over her arms.

  Drew hadn’t been with anyone since Chef Devin Briggs left her to start a family with another woman. Drew hadn’t been ready for a family. She’d been building her career and enjoying her freedom. Devin, eleven years older than her, had already established his career and was ready to settle down. It’d been a frequent topic of argument between them, and had eventually led to their demise.

  She’d been single since he left, working hard and skipping sleep in pursuit of becoming the very best at what she did. As a result, she hadn’t had time to feel truly lonely. Christina had been there to distract her, chattering away about work or her own guy problems.

  Drew had spent any free time she’d had researching and reading about food service and public relations, or staying up until the wee hours to call chefs in other countries who might be interested in lending their expertise to one of Fig & Truffle’s franchises.

  In short, she hadn’t had the time or inclination to indulge her fantasies.

  Until tonight.

  Her fingers twitched with the urge to undo each button on Reid’s shirt and kiss a trail over his hard chest to the muscular bumps of his abdomen. At the same time, she worried that somehow he would see her—the former her. That the pounds she’d lost would reappear in his mind and he’d recoil, leaving her feeling unworthy all over again.

  Ridiculous, she scolded silently.

  He nipped her bottom lip before peppering kisses on the side of her neck. Her worries dissipated with each press of his lips. Overcome by longing and the sensations in her sex-starved body, Drew gave in to the experience that was Reid.

  He must’ve sensed that she was through talking or stalling, because next he bent and lifted her, propping her back against the wall. He continued kissing her neck and collarbone as she wrapped her legs around his waist. He anchored her there with his hips between her open thighs and—oh!

  Her center lined up perfectly with the hard ridge of his erection, which made its presence known as it pressed against her most sensitive spot.

  “Ready, both of us, then.” He ground against her, sending her into a mental free fall.

  She’d never imagined sex with him would be a reality. When she’d last seen him, she’d been eighteen and awkward and shy and quiet, and at that birthday party where she’d decided to wear the damn bikini, she hadn’t missed Reid flirting shamelessly with the female bartender. While he’d ordered a beer, Drew had sipped on mocktails without a drop of alcohol. It’d been a good reminder of the gaps between them—not only the handful of years separating their ages but also of his class and stature. Of his sheer beauty and her averageness. Like a great sequoia next to a plain maple tree, anyone could see how different they were.

  Tonight, she’d prove to herself she was worthy of the great Reid Singleton.

  “I’ve been ready longer than you know,” she said. His hair was thick and soft against her fingers. He smiled, his lips damp from kissing her. Once again she worried he was looking at her. Really looking.

  She worried he might see that beyond her dark hair and curvy yet slimmer physique was the once-shy younger sister of Gage. She didn’t want to become suddenly undesirable or untouchable.

  So not an option.

  Distracting him as best she knew how, Drew stroked Reid’s crotch, pleased when the material of his pants tented invitingly. He groaned, his tongue plunging into her mouth as he took his sweet time.

  She was ready—absolutely aching to have him inside her. He loosened his hold on her, and she untangled her legs from his waist to stand on her feet. She unbuckled his belt and worked his fly open as he tore his mouth from hers to suck in a breath. He freed her from her shirt and once her lacy pale pink bra was revealed, he froze, his attention on her breasts. They were generous and always had been, but appeared even bigger in the silky demicup bra she’d purchased to match her shoes. Her D cups were swollen and pressed together, her deep cleavage an invitation.

  It was an invitation he eagerly accepted, cupping her breasts and lowering his face to kiss the tops of each one.

  She’d worked hard on her body—keeping her waist trim and legs toned took a lot of work and effort. And since she’d worked hard, she was going to enjoy her reward. Him.

  She unbuttoned his shirt as he slipped the bra straps off her shoulders, kissing her here and there as he did. She ran her hands over the expanse of his golden skin, and he tugged one bra cup down and sucked on her nipple. Her back arched, sending her breast deeper into his mouth, the resulting dampness in her panties a welcome warmth.

  His mouth is the eighth wonder of the world, she thought, dazed by his skill.

  He moved to her other nipple but before he could blow her mind, a sharp knock at the door preceded a call of “Room service!”

  He lifted his face to hers, his eyes g
lazed with arousal. She fisted his hair in protest, and he winced in pain.

  “Sorry,” she muttered, letting him go.

  “No, I’m sorry.” He sent a baleful look in the direction of the door. She didn’t want him to stop or even pause. She didn’t want to give him a single moment to reconsider or change his mind. She couldn’t bear the rejection.

  He lifted her hand and kissed her palm before bending to retrieve her shirt and pressing it over her exposed breasts.

  “Bedroom.” His voice was rusty and sexy as hell. “I’ll take care of this.”

  He crossed the room, his shirt and pants open, his hair a disaster.

  Her grin was downright arrogant.

  She’d weakened Reid Singleton’s knees. What a powerful feeling that was. And he didn’t seem anywhere near done with her yet.

  At the door Reid buttoned his pants and ran his hands through his hair, sending her a wink as she backed into the shadows of the bedroom.

  Five

  Reid didn’t bother closing his shirt or tidying himself much before letting the hotel employee in. He’d ordered champagne and strawberries, after all, which should’ve made it obvious that he was having a romantic interlude. He did tuck his hips behind the door when he opened it. What he was hiding from view would be too much information for whoever would wheel in the dessert cart.

  A shaggy-haired guy who couldn’t be more than twenty-one shuffled in looking bored and tired. Reid retrieved the first bill he saw from his wallet and stuffed it in the guy’s palm.

  Bloody hell. Reid had given him a fifty in his haste.

  The kid held up the bill and blinked at it. “Wow. Thanks, man.”

  “No problem.” Any amount of money was worth returning to his date as quickly as possible.

  Door shut, Reid flipped the safety lock as Christina appeared from the dark bedroom. Her skirt was in place, those incredible shoes crisscrossing up her ankles. Her shirt was still missing—a good sign—and she was wearing a pale pink bra that barely encased her gorgeous breasts.

  Those breasts might be the death of him, but what a way to go.

  She repositioned the cups almost self-consciously as she walked toward him. He knew her breasts were both beautiful and delicious. He’d have to take more time admiring and tasting them. He also wanted to taste those thighs and higher. He’d had her legs around his hips, her molten center warming his straining erection. He needed her, and he needed her now.

  “The cart’s arrived.” Not what he wanted to say, but he thinking was a challenge with all the blood flowing to his nethers.

  “I see that.” Her smile was so sweet that he couldn’t shake the idea that he was taking advantage of her somehow. The way she’d said earlier that she’d been ready longer than he knew hinted that it’d been a while since she’d had a man in her bed. Likely longer since she’d had a man who knew what he was doing in her bed.

  Through the women he’d known, he’d learned that men didn’t make it their priority to pleasure a woman. Which was criminal. When gifted with a beauty like the one standing before him, how could Reid not take his time exploring every inch of that body to learn what turned her on? What made her moan or giggle? What made her gasp in surprise or go to the brink of where only he’d be able to take her...

  Best not to rush if that was his goal.

  He grabbed the champagne bottle by the neck and took it from the ice bucket. His date’s smile slipped as her eyes went to his hands working the cork. Worry puckered her brow.

  “Did you...change your mind?” she asked, and bless her breasts, she actually sounded serious.

  A rough chuckle escaped him as he popped the cork from the bottle. “Definitely not. I’m attempting to be a gentleman.”

  “What if I don’t want you to be a gentleman? What if I prefer hurried over slow?” She glided across the room like a petite runway model, skimming the couch with her fingertips, her shoulders back, those inviting breasts jiggling as she walked.

  “Why? Have you somewhere else to be?” He filled the two flutes and nestled the champagne into the ice before lifting a silver dome to reveal rows of ripe red strawberries and a bowl of melted dark chocolate.

  Her pink tongue touched the corner of her lips.

  “A gentleman wouldn’t rush to undress you right away. A gentleman—” he dunked one berry into the chocolate “—would sample the chocolate off your nipples while feeding you a strawberry.”

  She sucked in an anticipatory breath. He had her full attention.

  “A gentleman—” he carried one of the flutes over to her “—would sip this from your belly button before kissing you where it matters most. Ever had an effervescent orgasm, Christina?”

  The heat in her eyes banked. “I prefer love.”

  A request he’d heard before. Some American women liked that term, he assumed because of his accent. He wasn’t below fulfilling their fantasies.

  He approached with the strawberry, chocolate delicately balanced on the tip. He lowered it to her mouth while saying, “Ever had an effervescent orgasm, love?”

  She took a bite of the chocolate-covered berry, her eyelids, coated in a shimmery gold shadow, sinking shut. She moaned, a soft “mmm” that turned him on far more than it ought to. With this woman it seemed the anticipation of what came next was as exciting as the act.

  Fantastic.

  He polished off the rest of the berry, tossed the stem aside and kissed her. She tasted of chocolate and sweet red fruit. When she looked up at him, her cheeks were flushed, her eyes begging for what he’d promised.

  “You’ve been with the wrong men, love.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  He offered her the champagne, and she took a sip, licking her full, inviting lips, and his erection grew harder.

  “We only have tonight, but that doesn’t mean we have to rush,” he told her. “In fact, since we have so little time together it makes sense to savor it.”

  He thought of this as “the talk.” He didn’t want to spoil the evening with overexplaining, but he wouldn’t go forward before setting the expectation. Where Reid was concerned, there was no possibility for a relationship. He had no desire to go down that road.

  “Believe me, Reid,” she said on a throaty laugh. “I didn’t expect things to get this far.” She touched the dip in his chin and wiggled her finger. “Tonight will have to be enough for both of us.”

  A ribbon of unease curled in his chest. Already he wanted more than tonight, and he hadn’t even had her yet.

  “Unless we change our minds,” he heard himself say.

  “Why would we do that?” She narrowed one eye, her mouth a tempting purse.

  “Are you staying for the entire conference?”

  “I am.”

  “What if you find yourself bored while you’re here and crave my company?” He threw in a shrug like he wasn’t anticipating her answer.

  “Hmm. We’ll see.” With that noncommittal response, she put her palm on his chest and shoved him toward the couch. He was content to let her do as she pleased.

  A side table lamp and the bathroom light glowed, but other than that the suite was dark. Even in shadow, Christina was inviting.

  Despite the added height of her shoes, she had to stretch to kiss him. He held the flute out of reach and wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her soft, supple curves against him and erasing every bit of his memory. He’d promised to do...something. With the berries, or was it the champagne...? She’d entranced him.

  “We aren’t rushing.” That much he’d remembered.

  “No. We’re not.” She stole the flute, drained the remainder of the champagne and set it aside. Then she pushed him onto the couch. “But we’re not delaying, either.”

  She clicked off the lamp and straddled him, her breasts between them. He cupped his hands over her bra, ru
bbing his thumbs over her nipples until the hard nubs beaded beneath the fabric.

  She gasped one word. “Yes.”

  “Does it hurt good, love?”

  “So good,” she agreed.

  He unclasped the bra, freeing those bountiful orbs to the trusted homes of his palms. He took one nipple on his tongue and sucked hard, and she cried out—a sharp, high shout of pleasure.

  When she wiggled her ass on his lap, his hips arched to find her—his cock eager to reach her warm, wet heat, his promises not to rush be damned.

  Six

  With his mouth on hers, it was easy for Drew to forget everything. Her past—their past—her insecurities, her stupid ex-boyfriend, her worries that Reid might recognize her...

  Those yellow jacket-sized concerns had swarmed her mind earlier, but now they shrank to tiny fruit flies before vanishing in a puff of smoke.

  Whenever he touched her, she was lost. Lost when he smoothed his hands up her legs, lost when he palmed her ass beneath her skirt and completely lost when his mouth teased her nipples once more.

  “Yes, Reid.” Damp heat pooled at the apex of her thighs as she moaned his name a second time. It was a plea. A plea for him to take her to physical release, to deliver her from the woman she’d been for the past year-plus. The overworked, sleep-deprived, slay-all-day boss she’d turned into... That woman was nowhere around when Reid Singleton kissed her. She was simply a woman—and for the moment, his woman.

  He let loose her breast and propped his head on a bright yellow pillow. His elbows were locked, his hands wrapped around the spiked heels of her shoes. “You’re beautiful.”

  The words struck like flint to stone. Words she’d always wanted to hear. She’d heard cute a lot growing up. She’d heard pretty once or twice. Hearing the word beautiful from him touched her in a deep, hidden place. He tugged her shoes gently by the heels and smiled. “Keep these on. These are what I first noticed about you. I’m afraid a fantasy brewed as a result.”