Breathless (53 page)

“Do you mind if I sit here?” I ask, batting my eyelashes.

I wonder how I look. After an eight hour shift, it can’t be too pretty.

He angles his head in my direction and my god, is he handsome. Flawless tan skin, dark eyes lined with darker eyelashes, and a strong jaw tinted by stubble. His beautiful irises scan over every inch of my body—appraising and appreciative—I like that.

“Not at all.” His voice is smooth, but rough around the edges—like chocolate speckled with coconut.

I slip onto the stool, cross my legs and lift a finger to the bartender. The bartender looks at me and he’s no one I’ve ever seen before. Another new face. I’m beginning to wonder if this place is becoming incredibly over-staffed.

“What do you drink?” The handsome man asks, staring at the side of my face. I try not to look at him but,
holy shit
, it’s hard. I’m mesmerized by his face. I want to take in every line and feature, but I don’t. Those aren’t the rules in the game of playing hard to get.

“Vodka, mostly,” I say, doing my best to sound indifferent. I glance at him and his dark eyes flare. “What do
you
drink?”

He shrugs. “Something that’s worth paying money for, and tastes less like a liquid you’d use to run your car.” I note a hint of an accent—Australian maybe? He’s covered it up really well with American, but the way he said ‘car’ gave it away. The ‘r’ disappeared and sounded like it’d been replaced by an ‘h’.
Cah… Caaah
… As I play it over and over in my head, it sounds more like a bird call than a word. Either way, it’s kind of sexy.

He signals to the bartender and immediately, he brings a bottle of wine in a chilled bucket with two very, very deep glasses.

Well… I guess he comes here often
. The stranger pushes a glass in my direction. “Since you were
unfortunate
enough to choose the seat next to mine, you have to drink this with me.”

I smile. For a man who looks so unobtainable, he sure is making this really easy for me.

“Okay, Your
Highness
,” I say, pinching the stem of my glass. “I’ll drink your wine, but only if you tell me where you’ve come from and why you look like you want to shoot yourself in the face.”

And just like that, I’ve slipped myself into a conversation with this sexy, sexy man. The rest is almost guaranteed. He chuckles and it vibrates
every
part of me.

“I’ve come from a terrible meeting and I’m hiding down here until everyone is gone so I can be alone in my room.” He pulls the bottle from the bucket and pours me a glass. It’s a small amount and a perfect example of what I hate most about wine drinkers. They have such a big glass, but barely use a quarter of it at a time. We all know they’re going to drink the bottle anyway, might as well fill the cup to the brim. I fight the urge to roll my eyes as he pours himself the tiniest amount too.

“What about you?” He asks me, lifting his glass.

“What about me?” I counter, feeling playful. I take a quick sip of the wine and,
holy shit,
it’s the nicest wine I’ve ever had. It tastes more like grapes than the grapes themselves.

“Where have you come from?”

“Work,” I state simply and he smiles. It’s a gorgeous smile, one that exposes his perfect white teeth and sends my heart beating in all kinds of stupid directions.

“I see. You want to keep this on a strict ‘need to know’ basis.”

“It’d be awfully silly of me to tell a stranger everything about me—including where I work. Besides, after tonight, do you really think we’ll run into each other again?”

He shrugs. “Maybe, maybe not. At least tell me your name so I know who I’m sharing my wine with.”

A simple question, really. “Alix—with an ‘I’ not an ‘E’.”

“Interesting.” He extends his large hand to me. “I’m Jesse.”

I pinch my thighs together. Of course his name is Jesse! Suddenly my hopes are extremely high. They wouldn’t be if I’d never read the This Man trilogy. As if this Jesse could ever fill
those
shoes. I slip my hand into his and the grip he holds me with almost sucks the air from my lungs. Naturally, I imagine the same grip on other parts of my body, maybe in my hair—or on my ass. His hand is rough and big, so big it almost swallows mine and with that, I’m sick of being down here at the bar. I’m ready to be upstairs or anywhere he can take me and show me exactly how to handle a woman. I can barely contain my excitement. I’m practically bursting at the seams. If this were a romance novel, he’d say something freakishly sexy right about now and I’d blush.

“It’s getting late.”

I nod.
Wait for it.
“Yep.”

I wait a few seconds more.
Nothing.
Oh, fuck it. I don’t have the patience to wait for someone else to do the work.

“What do you say we take this wine somewhere else, somewhere…
private.
”

His lips curl into a mischievous smirk and it sets fire to my blood. “You won’t tell me where you work, but you want to be alone with me? That’s not very safe.”

I lean closer and reach out for his hand. I let the very tips of my fingers dance along the back of his hand. Electric pulses flow from his skin and vibrate up my arm. My lips part as energy surges through me and I slowly pull his hand to my lap.

“With your skin on mine, being safe is the
last
thing on my mind.” I uncross my legs and slide his hand further up my thigh, until it brushes past my incomplete pantyhose and on to the bare skin on my thigh. Jesse’s chocolate brown irises flare dangerously close to mine, his breath heating my face as he searches for an explanation to my sudden forwardness. Little does he know, I’ve wanted to jump him from the second he entered the room and, as I said, I’m not beneath going for what I want.

As if someone doused Jesse in cold water, his eyes widen and he yanks his hand back before glancing awkwardly around the room.

This
asshole.

“Let me guess, you’re married?” I ask, scooping up my glass and slamming back the wine. It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve flirted with someone who’s supposed to be taken.

“No.”

I peer at him and watch as he straightens his charcoal tie.

“Girlfriend?”

“No.”

Then what’s his problem? I’m offering sex and it’s not like he has to pay for it. Most men find my body appealing. While I’m not skinny, I’m not full figured either. My body is the perfect combination of soft, firm and perky. Honestly, I feel as good as I did when I was twenty-one so why did he pull his hand away like he felt a monster dick between my legs?

“Discretion is very important to me.” he says, clearing his throat. “Public displays aren’t something I’m into.”

I find myself smirking at him and he frowns, confused that I don’t share the same point of view. I lean in close again until the smell of his expensive cologne engulfs me once more.

“There are people watching… and it doesn’t excite you?”

“Should it?”

I shrug, letting my finger trail along his firm, strong thigh. Underneath my fingertip, his muscles tighten and I imagine the same reaction when I finally get to run my tongue over every inch of his long, thick body. “To some it’s thrilling.”
To me it’s thrilling
. “The thought of touching something everyone else in the room wants…”

I glance over his shoulder at the tiny blonde in the corner of the room who’s glaring in our direction. To spite her, I angle my head and plant a small, soft kiss against his jaw line. I bite my lip against a shudder as his slight stubble scratches my sensitive skin. I
need
to feel it between my thighs. “Do you have a room?”

This is what I want.
He
is what I want. I’m not normally the one to instigate a sexual encounter, but Mr. Jesse here seems to be a tiny bit reserved. It’s kind of cute, actually. I just hope when we get upstairs and we’re alone, the cute disappears and the sexy makes an unforgettable appearance. Not wanting to grope in public is a perfectly rational reservation and I can respect that… if I have to. I pull back enough for Jesse to survey my face.

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea.” He mutters, avoiding my eyes.

“I think it’s a great idea.”

His dark irises flick over my face and linger on my lips for a second too long.
Hook, line and sinker.
My lips quirk at the corners as he reaches for his wine glass and tips the red liquid down his throat.

“Meet me by the elevator and I’ll get a room.”

Inside me, my organs coil and clench as excitement tears through me. I slip off of the stool, grab my coat, and pick my bag up off the floor. I’m unable to keep the smug grin from my face as I saunter towards the elevator at the back of the lounge. As irrational as it sounds, I hope he doesn’t want to do it with my tall, black heels on, because my feet are killing me.

I lean against the elevator, waiting for Mr. Tall, Dark and Handsome to return from reception.

Five minutes pass and as I sigh and toy with the ends of my long, brown hair, he finally strides up to me. Without hesitation, I hit the button on the elevator and we slip inside. When the doors close, his scent envelops me, teasing me beyond belief without even trying.

I lean against the wall and flick my tongue around my closed mouth. Jesse seems uncomfortable. His shoulders are rigid, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his slacks and as I open my mouth to torment him, he clears his throat and lifts his dark, sinful eyes to mine.

“I, uh, I don’t normally do this.”

“What?” I ask, gesturing to the silver box we stand in. “Ride elevators?”

He scowls at me, his amazing eyebrows furrowing. “I’m clearly not talking about the elevator, Alix.”

I click my fingers. “Oh, you mean sex. You don’t fuck strangers often?”

A subtle hint of pink flickers over his features, and it thrills me no end.

“Please, don’t censor yourself on my account.” He adjusts his jacket. “Do you always talk like that?”

“Like a woman who isn’t afraid to speak her mind? Of course.”

I push off the elevator wall and saunter closer to him. He swallows hard and,
goddamn
, it strikes all of the right chords inside of me. Strangely, his vulnerability is a real turn on.

“I’m not a very good girl, Jesse.”

He smirks. “That much is evident.”

I reach for his tie and let the soft, silky fabric slip through my fingers as I stroke the black fabric in slow, suggestive rhythms. Oh, how good it would feel to have it bite into my skin.

“One night and then it’s over. All I want is to peel you from your suit and to have a good time. That’s all. After that, you’ll never see me again.”

A ding rings throughout the elevator signaling our floor, and I glance at the panel.

Floor 53.

I peer at Jesse and he’s surveying my face. I wonder what he’s looking for? Reservation or a change of mind, perhaps? Then, with a sigh, he steps out of the elevator.

Geez
.

Would it kill the guy to be a little more enthusiastic? I follow closely behind him until we reach a room at the end of the hall, and as he reaches out to swipe his card, I notice his trembling hand. I bite back a smile.

“You’re not a virgin, are you?” I tease as I lean against the door frame.

I try to hide my smile, but I can’t and it breaks free. Toying with him is too much fun.

“I’m thirty three years old. I’m most definitely
not
a virgin.” He pushes open the door. “Get inside.”

“Ooh,” I brush past him on purpose and his breath hitches. “Yes, sir.”

Inside, the room is empty. Not empty in the literal sense. It has all of its amenities of course, but it just seems… plain. I’m not sure I like any shade between white and cream. I drop my handbag and coat on the floor as I make my way over to the bed. Thankfully, there’s plenty of room to do all sorts of crazy things. My mind runs wild. I sit down on the soft mattress and run my hands over the top sheet before I flick my attention back to Jesse. He’s standing on the other side of the room with his hands stuffed into his pockets, with his face held in a serious pinch.

“Do you want to undress me, or should I do it myself?” I ask, grinning.

“What do you prefer?”

I roll my eyes. God, does everything have to be so stilted with him? Where’s the passion? The excitement of bedding someone you don’t know? Where’s the fucking panty-dropping humor and statements that leave you breathless? Do authors just make that shit up? Do any of them write from experience, or purely from fantasy? I’ve had sex with a lot of guys, more than I can count on my hands and toes—not much more, but you get the idea—and not once have I ever,
ever
experienced the magic these heroines do. What gives? Maybe it’s all just some sick ploy; write about situations that never happen, get readers addicted, and then make them depressed with their life so they’re never happy unless their face is buried in a book. It’s all a damn scam… that I willingly pay for.

Dammit
, I’m my own enabler.

“Get over here and undress me,” I order, pushing myself to my feet.

He saunters closer. When he’s within range, my heart beat kicks up a few notches until it’s slamming against my ribcage. He smells good. Have I mentioned that before?
Good god
. If I close my eyes, I can almost believe I’m surrounded by a hundred naked male models—hot ones. You know, the ones you see on the cover of GQ and random fitness magazines.

“Why are your eyes closed?” he asks, as I feel his fingers curl around the base of my shirt.

I look at him. If only he knew. “No reason at all.”

I lift my arms and he tugs my shirt off over my head before tossing it to the side. I stand still for a moment as his gaze falls to my breasts. I don’t think I’ve ever been happier wearing a beautiful (and extremely overpriced) bra. His brown irises glisten as he takes it all in before he reaches around me. I cringe as his long fingers grip the straps that connect in the middle of my back. I really,
really
hope he doesn’t break it. Does he know how expensive it is to get a well fitting bra for someone with relatively large breasts? It’s the reason I spend my days off braless, or in a bikini. I inhale his scent as my nose rubs against the fabric of his shirt. Then, I hear two distinct bra clips, as they’re appropriately unhooked. I swallow my disappointment. As much as I didn’t want him to destroy my bra, I kind of did. How hot would that have been? Then again, underwear tearing only happens in novels, doesn’t it? Thanks a lot, Bennett, you Beautiful Bastard. I slip my arms from my bra and Jesse drops it onto the growing pile at our feet.