by Chloe Cox
“Tell me what’s wrong,” he said.
She opened her mouth, and only barely caught herself in time. Then she settled on an emotion Gavin liked to call “screw it.”
“Everyone’s about to find out anyhow,” she said, and sighed. “The short version is that my super-famous fiancé dumped me a few months back, and it was a secret, kind of? But I saw paparazzi types waiting at the hotel, and that’s pretty much the only reason they’d be interested in me, so the cat must be out of the bag, and I just…do not want to answer questions about it. So I ran.”
She looked up at him and smiled a little ruefully.
“And then pushed you into your private elevator.”
“It was more of a gentle nudge,” he said.
“Fine. Gently nudged you into your private elevator.”
She was smiling again. He hated to ruin it.
“Will they be at your house?” he asked.
Olivia blinked.
“Probably,” she said softly.
“Do you have anywhere else to go?”
Olivia stayed silent, and Gavin frowned. No answer was an answer with that kind of question. He looked at her again, and this time she was looking away.
“Are we in the stratosphere yet?” she asked.
He smiled. “Nearly.”
And at that, the elevator slid to a smooth stop, and the doors opened on his private suite.
Gavin wasn’t really a flash kind of guy, but some things had to be kept up for appearances. This was one of them. Double-height ceilings and floor-to-ceiling windows looking out over Los Angeles and the Pacific Ocean. Some number of bedrooms, most of which never got used. Jacuzzi, sauna, gym.
He did insist on having one private, specially equipped room. He was a Dom, after all. He thought about showing it to Olivia, and his cock started to pulse.
Down, boy.
“This is bigger than my actual house,” Olivia said.
“Make yourself at home,” he said and followed her out of the elevator.
Yeah, all right. A place like this was nice if it meant he got to see that look on Olivia Cress’s face.
“Why don’t I know who you are?” she said suddenly. “I mean, this is incredible. You must be kind of a big deal.”
“I’ve been lucky,” he said, and put his hand to the small of her back to guide her past the foyer.
He touched her, and they both stopped, rigid with it. He could see it ripple through her, the same charge he felt. It almost brought him to his goddamn knees.
“Just lucky?” she whispered.
“So far.”
They stared at each other.
The strap of her dress fell over her left shoulder, where the light hit her. Jesus.
Olivia needed privacy and comfort and the freedom to figure out what she needed. Touching her once more would mean he’d have her, right here, right now, on the cold marble floor. He had to get out of there.
“Catch,” he said.
She caught the key in mid-air, and he smiled. Good eye.
“What is this?”
“I told you,” he said. “I was going to stay the week, but then my brother went and got surprise married, and now one of my deals is going south. I’ve got to get back to Palo Alto.”
She looked at him, then looked at the key.
“Call the front desk and they’ll get you whatever you need,” he went on, and turned his back, headed back to the elevator. If he looked at her for one more second he was going to lose it. “Stay here as long as you like.”
“What makes you think I’ll—”
He turned around and caught her eye. She went quiet.
“You will,” he said. “I’ll see you when I get back.”
He watched the doors close on the most beautiful, bewildered woman he’d ever seen, and he smiled all the way down to the lobby.
Well, that was bewildering.
Olivia stood still, right where Gavin had left her, for a good five minutes after he left. Just holding the key. The key to his private suite.
Was this real?
Given the day she’d had so far, it was not impossible that she was hallucinating. On the other hand, if she was hallucinating, her brain was awesome. She might as well go with it.
She picked up her shoes where she’d dropped them when Gavin tossed her the key, and took herself on a little tour of what literally had to be the fanciest hotel suite in the world. It wasn’t opulent, necessarily, but it was dramatic.
The circular staircase in the middle of the giant front room? Dramatic. The lighting, soft, angled, with points of intensity? Dramatic. And she knew from good lighting. She almost wanted to go stand next to one of the paintings on the walls.
Which—was that an actual Picasso?
“What. The. Hell,” she said to no one at all. She half expected some futuristic robot voice to answer her, and was kind of relieved when she was met with silence.
Soothing, soothing silence. As ridiculous as this was, she desperately needed it. She hadn’t even known she’d needed it until Gavin had offered, but she needed it. And it was all hers.
For the first time in a long time, she smiled a real smile.
And then she made a beeline for the shower.
Olivia spent entirely too long just standing under the showerhead, letting it wash away all her stress. She’d decided that this was not real life; this was a vacation from real life. And she was going to take full advantage of it.
Obviously she was grateful for the circumstances that had landed her the weirdest job in the world, but sometimes she needed a break from being someone else. Most people would assume that someone who was in movies would be set for life, could afford to stay anywhere they wanted, had perfect lives. And she would have no idea how to support her family without movie-star paychecks, but she never knew when the work would dry up. You always, always had to be on.
In the shower, she turned it off.
And she started to sing. It was the one thing she kept to herself, that she only did in private. It was the one thing that made her feel free.
She kept it up, halfway through the score to Damn Yankees by the time she got out and wrapped herself in the softest, thickest robe in existence. She’d have to worry about actual clothing eventually, but she could spend a week in that robe, easily. She danced her way through the bedroom she’d picked, back into that giant front room, and finished big right under the chandelier.
She heard a bell.
It was almost slow motion. She turned her head, her robe halfway down her wet shoulders from all the craziness, and saw the elevator doors slowly separate to reveal…
Gavin.
He looked surprised. She hadn’t known Gavin Colson could be surprised. But it didn’t last long.
She watched his expression change, as he stood motionless, tall and strong enough to make that elevator look like a shoebox, to something else.
Hungry. Primal. His eyes locked on her.
Neither of them moved, or spoke. Olivia felt his eyes on her, and at first she didn’t recognize what it was it made her feel. It had been so long.
He wanted her.
The doors started to slide shut with that soft whisper, and Gavin’s arm shot out and forced them open without apparent effort. He was still looking at her, and she liked it.
He shook his head, and the spell was broken. Wordlessly he walked out of the elevator and turned to a phone, mounted on the wall.
“Send up a week’s worth of women’s clothing,” he said, and his eyes travelled back to her. “Any of the boutiques in the hotel.”
For the first time, Olivia remembered herself. She pulled the robe up over her bare shoulders, but she couldn’t do anything about her wet hair or her bare legs. Well, she hadn’t been doing anything wrong. She was supposed to be alone.
“What size are you?” he said.
Startled, Olivia looked at him, blankly. “Women’s clothing doesn’t work like that,” she said. “You have to know the brand, th
e—”
“Send up one of everything in every size,” he barked into the phone. “Now.”
Olivia swallowed, and tried to regain her composure.
“I thought you were going to Palo Alto?” she said.
“I was,” he said. He was still staring at her. “False alarm. I came back.”
Olivia nodded, and pulled the robe around her a little tighter. She was a good conversationalist. It was part of the job; she could charm anybody. But right now, with Gavin Colson standing twenty feet away from her, looking like a caged animal that wanted her just as much as she wanted him, she couldn’t think of a damn thing to say.
All she could think of was the way that soft cotton robe felt against her bare skin. The way it would feel if Gavin came closer. If he pulled on that robe…
She shook her head. That wouldn’t end well. Gavin was a Dom, the kind of guy who had more sexual experience than she could even imagine, and she was…well, her. She was the woman who had to play sexy on TV, all the while knowing she’d never actually had good sex with anyone but herself. And right now, she didn’t need any more reasons to feel bad about herself.
How on earth was she going to share a hotel suite with this man and have any chance of staying even a little bit sane?
Across the room, Gavin tore his gaze away and ran a hand through his black hair.
“I’ll shower,” he said. “And join you for dinner. Get dressed.”
It didn’t sound like a request.
Three
Olivia Cress, naked. Spread for him. Begging, for him.
Gavin growled as the hot water bounced off his hard shoulders, his aching cock in hand. He couldn’t get that image of her out of his mind. Standing there in the middle of the room, dripping, that robe halfway to falling off.
Fuck.
The things he wanted to do to her. The ways he wanted to see her come, to feel her come around his cock. The way her skin flushed, the way her lips parted…
He wanted to fuck her so well she forgot her own name. He wanted to take all that fear, all that nervous energy, and make it into something useful. He wanted to watch her face as he entered her, over and over again, until she was his.
Gavin roared as he came, his knees buckling as he caught himself. Jesus fucking Christ. If he needed to do this just to get through dinner, what the hell was he going to do all week?
He had no idea what was happening.
At first it was a curiosity, kind of fun. This attraction, this need. Something he wanted to figure out, because it was new, and a Dom of his experience didn’t get to feel something new all that often. Especially not with a woman who thought she was straight vanilla.
But now it had a crossed a line. He’d never wanted anyone this badly, never been possessed like this. He could tell it was going to be torture. And maybe that was exactly what he deserved, torture. There were people back in New Orleans who’d say he deserved worse.
But Olivia was a woman who was obviously interested in BDSM, and who was just as obviously wounded. It wasn’t the break-up, the way she talked about it. But there was something there that made her afraid of what she felt. Of her life. And as a Dom, he had a responsibility to do no harm, at the very least.
This is going to be a rough ride.
He could already feel that pressure building at the base of his cock again. It was like being eighteen again. Madness.
He shocked his system with cold water, grabbed a towel, and walked naked into his private bedroom. It was well equipped, but he didn’t allow himself to get distracted, thinking about all the things he could do with his huge toy collection. He pulled on the first shirt he got out of his closet, a pair of jeans. Keep it relaxed.
He’d left instructions that the clothing be delivered to Olivia, and that dinner be brought up thirty minutes later. Time to face the temptation.
There were racks upon racks of clothing in the living room—he’d underestimated how much clothing the hotel boutiques carried. It was like a silken, glittering tsunami. He grinned at the thought, and wondered what she’d picked.
“So where’s dinner?”
He turned around, compelled by that voice. And then he had to fight to keep his composure. He had to fight hard.
Olivia was wearing a white dress, something that plunged in the front, and was slit high at the bottom. Cleavage and leg and those eyes. He was stunned.
Damn.
“Did I overdress?” she said, her face falling. “I’m sorry, it’s just they sent up all these amazing pieces, and—”
He shook his head. “You look perfect.”
And it was the truth. She didn’t need to apologize for it.
Then she smiled, and for the first time in his adult life, Gavin Colson felt his own heart pounding against his chest.
The elevator bell rang, just in goddamn time. Gavin turned, happy to see that there was nothing in there but the room service cart, and that the meal was under silver. He trusted the hotel staff, but he didn’t want to ask Olivia to do the same. If she didn’t want to, she didn’t have to see anyone else for the entire time she stayed.
“What’d we get?” she asked.
“Let’s find out,” he said.
“You don’t know?”
Gavin grinned as he piloted the cart into the big room. “The guy downstairs has two Michelin stars. I figured I’d let him pick.”
She looked at his shirt, his jeans. “I really do feel overdressed.”
“Maybe on someone else,” he said. “You look like you were born to wear that.”
She blushed, and Gavin squeezed the handrail on the cart a little tighter.
“Tell you what,” he said. “You make the call. Dining room or couch?”
She grinned. “Couch. Always couch.”
Gavin smiled back. A woman after his own heart.
He brought the cart into the less formal living room area, off the main room. It was the room that felt more human. Just a bunch of comfortable couches, a table, a big television. Board games, that kind of thing. A place where people spent time together.
He let her pick where to sit, and she lounged dramatically on one of the settees, making him laugh.
“You should be an actress or something.”
“I’m just waiting to get discovered.”
He looked at her. What he wanted to say would exceed the PG-13 rating he’d set for the night.
And she knew it.
“I’m sorry if I scared you,” he said as he dealt with plates and the rest. “I called the room on my way back, but you didn’t pick up.”
“I was in the shower.”
He paused. That image again. Goddammit.
“You wouldn’t have picked up anyway,” he said, and sat across from her, on his own couch. Safest that way. Except now he had an eyeful of leg.
“How do you know that?”
“You wouldn’t pick up someone else’s phone,” he said.
Fact.
Olivia seemed surprised by it. And then surprised that it was true.
Then she smiled.
“What was with the empty elevator dinner delivery?” she asked. “Are you some kind of recluse? Should I be worried?”
“Listen, if I ever go full Howard Hughes, you have my permission to stage an intervention,” he laughed.
Olivia inhaled at “permission.”
Gavin couldn’t take his eyes off her.
Goddamn she will be a beautiful sub.
Suddenly Olivia leaned forward, shaking her head slightly, and poured herself a glass of wine. Neither of them had touched their food.
She took a nervous sip, and looked up at him over the rim of her glass. Something snapped.
She said, “Ok, I’m not going to say I’m not going to sleep with you, because that just seems like making a point for no reason, and it’s not like I think that I need to make a point, I just—”
She stopped, like she’d tumbled forward without thinking it through. He watched her. Her face betrayed
her. She was sorting through too much, had no focus.
“I will leave if you want me to,” he said. Simple. Calm.
She looked at him, not pleased.
“Come on, how could I say I wanted that? It’s your hotel, and I feel like—”
“There are plenty of other rooms. And I have a house. And a helicopter. I can be in a bunch of different places, if I want. None of them has to be where I’ll bother you.”
“But it’s your—”
“Quiet.”
She stopped talking. Looked at him with big eyes.
“I offered you this suite because you need it, and because you deserve privacy. Not to impose on you. Understood?”
Silently, she nodded. She was watching him, almost as intently as he was watching her.
“Tell me what you want,” he ordered.
“I don’t want you to leave.”
Olivia leaned back, jolted by what had come out of her mouth. Surprised. Gavin wasn’t. But it was interesting to see how she dealt with it.
She swallowed then looked him in the eye.
“I really don’t want you to leave.”
Gavin breathed deeply. “What do you want?”
She blinked. “I don’t know.”
Jesus Christ, she was beautiful. Not just the way she looked. But the honesty in how she handled the unknown. The way she wasn’t afraid to be wrong, or to admit that she wasn’t in control. All that wrapped up in someone who was afraid of how she felt.
He wanted to hold her, and then he wanted to make her scream his name. Instead, he leaned forward and softened his voice.
“You don’t know if you can trust me, so you can’t relax, right?” he said.
She blinked again, and laughed. “How could you possibly—”
“It’s not rocket science, Olivia. It’s just being a person.”
“I guess so,” she said, and took another sip of her wine. “But I don’t know what would…what would change that.”
“I’ll make you a deal,” he said. “I go the moment you tell me to. You never have to see me again if you don’t want to. Not just low stakes—no stakes. You can be anyone you want to be in this room, and then you can leave it all behind. If you want.”
