“I’m seeing someone right now,” I say.
Aaron looks genuinely surprised. “If I had known, I wouldn’t have been so up-front.”
“I’m sorry if I gave you the wrong impression. It’s a very new relationship.”
“Does that mean I can make you reconsider?” He has a wistful expression.
I shake my head. “No. I’m faithful.” In my vows. In my promises. “If you’ll excuse me, I have someone I have to find.”
With a spin, I look around the edge of the dance floor in search of Christian. He’s not here, nor is he at our table. I do a quick glance through the crowd of people meandering near their tables and then head over to the bar.
I step toward the exit, into the grand foyer, and find him standing by the elevator bank. His back is to me, his head down. My feet are quick as I waste no time in waltzing up to him and tapping him on the shoulder.
He turns around and looks surprised to see me standing there.
I want to yell at him, tell him he’s a confusing bastard who is throwing mixed signals around. Either he wants to have this baby with me or he wants me to meet someone new. He has to know that he can’t tell a woman she’s more and then walk away. If I’m smart, I’ll end this ridiculous plan of ours before it goes too far.
I don’t do or say any of those things.
Instead, I do the only thing that feels absolutely right.
I kiss him.
With my hand on the lapel of his jacket, I grip the fabric and pull him toward me, scorching him with a kiss that burns straight to my core.
When his hands grab my face and hip, I don’t hold back as I give him every bit of anger and excitement I have in my body. We’re lips and tongues and hands, devouring each other, just as we did in the park—except, this time, it’s like we’re making up with each other for something … everything.
“You have to warn a man if you’re going to kiss like that,” he says, breathless.
“How do I kiss?”
“You consume me.”
He’s right. I’m completely ravenous. The elevator ping has me looking at the opening doors. “Where are you going?”
His hooded eyes flit to the elevator as his brows curve in. “My room.”
“You were leaving me?”
“I was hoping you’d follow.”
My heart is riled as my body zings with a current. “You got a hotel room?”
He nods slowly. “No expectations.”
My hand is still gripping his jacket. I watch as his Adam’s apple bobs with a hard swallow. I run a hand over the skin and let it travel down his chest.
All our moments have led up to this one. He asked for three dates, and it is the wisest thing he’s ever done. I might have known this man for most of my life, but he’s shown me in three dates what I always knew but never truly acknowledged.
I want this man. Not just for his body, but also for his mind, his actions, and his words.
He taught me to deny my fears. I’m looking ahead.
He showed me his most vulnerable thoughts. I find him even stronger.
He makes me feel like the most desirable woman in the world. And, tonight, I desire nothing more than him.
“I don’t want you to be my friend tonight,” I whisper.
His lips part with a sharp inhale. “How do you want me to treat you?”
“Like a lover.”
The earth stops.
My words have caused a complete cease of time and space. The only moving thing in this world is Christian’s eyes as they dilate black, the promise of my words weighing heavily on the moment.
His chest puffs. His hands grip the silk on my hips tighter, and then he lets go of my dress.
He steps away.
His hand finds the call button, summoning the elevator again. It’s here in an instant.
We walk into the elevator. I stand to one side, him on the other. Our backs against the walls.
The doors close.
Game on.
Christian’s at my side of the elevator, his hands in my hair, his tongue licking my lips and his kisses electrifying me. His body pushes into me, and I moan at the steel of his erection against me, the silk doing nothing to cushion the hardness of him from rubbing against me.
His mouth is on my neck, his hands up to my rib cage, thumbs running over my breasts. I grip his firm ass and pull him further into me.
The doors open, and he grips my hand, pulling me out of the car and down the hall. Our room is on the right. He swipes the card and opens the door.
The urgency of the moment has slowed down a touch at the sight of the gold headboard of the king-size bed. He closes the door behind us and secures the lock.
As he steps up behind me, his hand skims my waist, and his other palm glides down the front of my body, stopping at the top of my thighs. I fall back into him and turn my head to the side. His lips dance on my skin, kissing me from earlobe to collarbone, leaving a chill in their wake.
I place my hands on top of his and move them from my thighs toward the center of my body. The touch of his large hands, hot and heavy over my core, has me pining in anticipation. I run his hands up and down, the friction building me up, wild and heady. With his hands rubbing me over the silk, his mouth goes back to my neck and up to my jaw, willing my mouth toward him.
I lose myself in his kisses once again.
“Why has it taken me twenty-three years to kiss you?” he asks.
“Good things come to those who wait,” I breathe.
“Fuck yes.”
He spins me in his arms, and I step back. I want to take a look at him.
He’s still as polished and princely as he was earlier, except his lips are swollen and his eyes are glazed with lust. This man—this impossible, gorgeous man, who is looking at me like I could save his life—just might be the death of me.
His hand rises to undo his bow tie. It lies undone as he unbuttons the top three buttons of his shirt.
My own hand rises to my neck and runs a trail down my décolletage and over the curve of my breasts. His eyes watch the way my finger dances over the line where silk meets skin as he undoes his cuff links and places them in his pocket.
I grip the zipper in the back of my dress and slowly pull down.
He licks his lips.
I bite mine as I let my dress fall. A beautiful dress, a mess on a hotel floor. I’m left standing in a black lace bra and matching thong.
“Meadow.” His voice is a deep growl as he drinks me in.
“I know you only bought that dress, so you could take it off.”
He doesn’t deny it. “You’re beautiful.”
The look he’s giving me is so intense; I have to close my eyes.
“I feel like the breath is stolen from my lungs. Telling a woman she’s beautiful is too common, but this is the first time I’ve ever said those words and absolutely meant them.” His words cause me to look at him. He takes a step toward me, stopping before touching me. “You’ve always had this alluring quality, a magnetic vibrancy that attracts everyone to you. I think it’s the way you light up when you laugh.”
“I’m not laughing right now.”
“No. You’re a woman ready to be loved, and it is the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.” His hand rises to the side of my face, and his thumb runs small circles over my cheek. “I want you so bad, Meadow. I think I’ve always wanted you.”
I undo his belt buckle and his pants. “Then, have me.”
I glide his zipper and lay my hand over his erection. It’s thick and heavy in my hand.
His forehead falls to mine as he groans in pleasure. Then, his hands are on my waist, and he hoists me up and lays me on the bed.
My bra and panties are on the floor in seconds, and his hands and mouth are in their places. His lips suck on a pert nipple as his fingers pinch the other. His body perfectly lines up with mine. My naked body wraps around his clothed one, taking in his weight, his neediness, and seeking relief for my own.
He kisses down my belly, and his tongue dips into my navel. I giggle with the feeling and then stop as his mouth lowers and hovers over my mound. With a swipe of his tongue, he licks the folds, and I let out an audible gasp as I fall back into the pillow. My fingers are laced in his hair, and he licks and swirls and ravages me like a man dying of thirst.
My body runs hot, and my head goes foggy as he enters a finger and then two. I’m shaking from an unexplainable high. He’s unrelenting, and he works my body until I’m coming for him, calling out his name and preaching to a god I’m almost certain right now is out there somewhere.
Christian lifts his head and smiles at me, and—damn—I’m breathless. He rises on his knees, and I’m quick to get him on his back and straddle him. My body gyrates on him as I finish unbuttoning his shirt. He sits up and shrugs it off. I take the undershirt he has on beneath and lift it over his head. The washboard abs I’ve been eyeing for too long are here in the flesh, under my roving hands and just as perfect as I imagined. I push him back down and explore his body, his corded arms, and muscular chest. He does his own touching—first my breasts and then down my belly and hips.
My curiosity runs deep, and I move over to take off his pants. His erection is pitched in his black boxers. I pull them down and toss them on the floor beside my dress. Then, I marvel at the sight before me. Large and firm, it’s the definition of a cock. And, tonight, it’s all mine.
I pump once, twice, my mouth salivating at the sight of pre-cum glistening on the tip. I lean down and lick it. The hard steel beneath the smooth skin is addicting. I need another taste.
“Oh my God, Meadow. That’s … your mouth … heaven.”
I giggle. “For a man of the medical profession, you sure are at a loss for coherent sentences.” I bob down again and take him deep.
“You have to stop.”
“I’m having fun.”
He grips my head and pulls me up. Our eyes meet, and his are filled with desire. “I need to be inside you.”
Gently, he guides me back down to the bed and settles his body over me. His eyes are firm on mine as he opens my legs and holds himself at my entrance. Slowly at first, he pushes in.
His arms are holding me tight; mine wrap around his neck and over his heart. Our connection never lost. He kisses me as he moves. I arch my hips, and he hits the spot that sends me reeling into the heavens.
He picks up his rhythm.
I grip his chest.
He passionately kisses me.
I raise my hips.
His forehead falls to mine.
I look up into his eyes.
He calls out my name.
I fall apart.
We come undone.
We kiss for a long time. It seems to be something we’ve become brilliant at. We roll over onto the sheets that are now crumpled and tossed about. I hold on to him, savoring the moment because, honestly, I’m not ready to leave it.
There’s a tingling still simmering through me as his muscular thigh slides between my legs. His powerful body makes me feel dainty as he holds me, caresses me. Even though the sex is over, his desire for intimacy is potent.
Christian as a lover. I really like this side of him.
He’s the first to pull away, his hooded eyes lazy despite the hurriedness of our lovemaking. His eyes dance around my face, and a slow, sexy smile builds on his full mouth.
I lick my lips, unsure of exactly what to say. I don’t want to ruin it by making a joke or saying something overly sexy. There’s no protocol for this scenario. It feels like I’ve gone to bed with a man I just started dating, and I don’t want to come off too strong.
A manual would really come in handy right about now. Picture it. “Girls Guide to Dating/Getting Knocked Up By Your Best Friend/Boss’s Son.” I think it’d be a hit. I can even start a blog …
“I have to pee,” I say and untangle myself from his body. I’m about to get up when I realize I don’t want to walk to the bathroom, naked. I pull the sheets toward me and cover up the necessary bits.
“Don’t tell me you’re embarrassed,” he teases from behind me, lying stark naked in all his glory.
“Despite recent events, we’re still friends, and I’d prefer if you didn’t see my jiggly ass walking away.” I lean over and grab his button-down off the edge of the bed. I slide my arms inside and stand up. When I’m properly covered, I face him and do a curtsy.
“Friends.” He’s looking at the plush carpeting of the hotel room.
I scurry to the bathroom and close the door behind me, leaning my back against the door and taking myself in. My reflection shows the afterglow of a woman who had mind-blowing sex—rumpled hair, smeared eyeliner, swollen lips, and a rosy tint to her entire body.
Damn.
I cling the shirt closer to my body and inhale his woodsy cologne.
I had sex with Christian.
My cheeks blush in the mirror as I recall the way his body felt on top of me, inside me. I will have some dangerous fantasies to look back on when this is all over.
When it’s over …
I run a hand over my chest and take a deep inhale. My heart is skipping. If what we felt was an earthquake, the tingles running over my skin are from the aftershock.
We got caught up in the moment. A planned moment, but we still fell into it—hard.
I stare at myself a moment too long, taking in this new me. For a while, I equated sex with treason. The thought of trusting someone enough to let myself go seemed unachievable. How could one enjoy sex after heartbreak? I often wondered. I’m finding, when you give yourself to someone who helped you pick up the pieces, it’s easy.
I freshen up and run my fingers under my eyes to put my makeup back in place. My hair takes a little longer to polish since I don’t have a brush. Despite my just-had-sex look, I’m feeling confident as I open the door. That is, until I see Christian standing at the foot of the bed, wearing his slacks and shoes and holding his jacket.
“You’re leaving.” I try not to sound bewildered.
He runs his fingers over his hair. “I didn’t think you’d want to stay. You don’t have a bag or anything. The only thing you have to wear is the dress. Unless you want to stay. We could—”
“No. Leaving sounds good.” I clear my throat.
Christian booked the room, but clearly, he doesn’t have a bag either, so he must have only planned on having sex. That’s good. We don’t want to blur any lines here. Right?
My dress is now lying on the bed with my bra and panties next to it. I take them off the sheets and hurry back into the bathroom.
“Give me a minute,” I say as I close the door.
My heart that was at the forefront of my chest before slams into my back. My shoulders roll forward as I let out a huff. What did I think would happen? We’d go for round two and make out until the sun came up?
I shouldn’t be so hard on myself. I’m a romantic. I believe in sweet moments and happy ever afters. Not that I necessarily thought Christian wanted one with me. I just never had sex with a man in a hotel room and then left. Then again, I have been out of the dating pool a really long time. Maybe this is what people do in their thirties?
When my clothes are back on, I push my shoulders back and lift my chin, exiting the bathroom with his collared shirt in my hands. “Here you go,” I say with a smile.
His eyes lower as his hand stretches out. “We don’t have to leave. I should have told you to bring an overnight bag. I only booked the room this afternoon and didn’t say anything because I’d told you I wasn’t expecting this. I wasn’t. I just wanted to be prepared.”
“You always are,” I say. “And you’re right. We should go.”
“I didn’t think you’d want to stay and walk out of here in the morning in an evening gown.”
“And do the walk of shame? No, thank you.” I wave a hand in dismissal. “It’s not like I have a ho bag or anything.”
He grins with a hitched brow. “A what?”
>
Grabbing my clutch off the dresser, I tuck it under my arm. “Never mind. You ready?”
His beseeching gaze squints at me as if doing a double take at my nonchalant attitude.
“Almost.” His voice sounds unconvinced as he steps into the bathroom.
The door closes, and I flop to the bed, hitting myself in the forehead with my clutch. “What did you think would happen? You’d cuddle all night and pick out baby names?” I pull the brush out of my bag and give my hair a swipe, making it fray on the bottom—opposite of the look I was going for.
The door opens, and Christian comes into view, drying his hands with a white towel. His shirt now on and tuxedo in place, he doesn’t look like he just had rampant sex.
“Were you talking to someone?” He tosses the towel onto the sink and steps out.
I pop up off the bed. “Just running through my list of things to do tomorrow.”
He nods. “Ready?”
I nod back and then halt. “Do we have to go back to the gala? I don’t feel … fresh.”
He laughs as he opens the hotel room door. “I’ll take you home.”
We walk down the hall to the elevator and step inside. We’re connected in a far more powerful way than ever before, and yet I feel more distant to him than when he was across the country all those years ago.
We step into the lobby and walk out the gold doors onto the red-carpeted steps of The Plaza. There’s a cab dropping people off in front, so he jogs down the steps to claim it and stands by the open back door.
“Share a cab with me?” he asks.
I slide in the backseat. When he takes a seat beside me, he gives the driver my address.
I wrangle my brain, trying to figure out if I want him to come over. Yes, is the first answer that pops into my head. No, is the logical one.
All the pieces fell into place for us tonight, but they’re only pieces. They could easily fall apart.
As we drive up Central Park West, I think about my fountain and the many wishes I’ve made upon it.
I think about the moment Christian and I danced there just a few weeks ago when I told him about my dream. I remember the day he followed me there, waiting for his answer. I gave him one that night. And then there was the kiss we shared in the park. Our first kiss. The fountain was there to celebrate that, too.
A Really Bad Idea Page 17
