The Bay Bridge was lit up in white, a gorgeous contrast against the dark blue water and sky around it.
He clicked the door shut, took back his jacket, and hung it on the wall.
Nothing could have stopped me, definitely not that I had no business poking around Nick's room without his permission. I went straight to the balcony door, pulled it open, and stepped outside.
Cold air rushed over my skin. The rain had stopped, but the floor was still slick. I pressed my hands against the railing and peered to the mostly empty street thirty floors below me.
I was up high.
Too high for anyone to see me.
Inside the room, Nick poured two glasses of whiskey on the rocks. He was methodical about it. No rush, like he had all the time in the world.
It gave the nerves racing around my body time to catch up to my brain. The only thing I knew about him was his first name, and I was in his hotel room ready to throw myself on his bed.
His eyes met mine as he stepped onto the balcony. He was tall. Even in my heels, I was three or four inches shorter.
He handed me my glass. I drank quickly. I didn't need the taste. I needed the release from my inhibitions. I set my empty glass on the side table sandwiched between two patio chairs.
His eyes passed over me. He moved closer, so he was three inches behind me, his body heat chasing away any goosebumps on my arms.
"I want to fuck you, Marie, but you need to understand that I do things a certain way."
I made a mental note that I'd told him to call me Marie. "What is that?"
"I'm always in control."
I squeezed the railing to steady myself.
"Am I mistaken, or do you want that too?"
"Yes." I bit my lip. "But what if I stop wanting it?"
"Say stop, and I'll stop."
"That simple?"
"Why make it complicated?" He leaned down, his mouth inches from my ear. "Take off your dress."
I turned so we were eye to eye. Or eye to chin, given our height difference. His expression was intense, hungry.
I pulled the straps of my dress off my shoulders, first the left, then the right. My bra was nothing fancy but his eyes opened wide like it was the best thing he'd ever seen. Those eyes followed my hands as I pushed the dress to my knees and kicked it off my feet. Then they made their way up my body, back to my eyes.
"The bra." He stared back at me.
I unhooked my bra and slid it off one shoulder at a time.
He looked me over slowly, like he was taking a mental picture. "You're beautiful."
Heat surged through my body. I'd never stripped like this for someone, and I was doing it for a stranger. I was standing on the balcony in nothing but a thong and heels.
He traced a line over the cherry blossom tattoo on my side. "What does this mean?"
"They're just flowers."
"Not true." His fingers rested on the Latin quote next to the petals. "Memento mori. Remember your mortality." He looked at me as if to ask for an explanation. "You're a little young to worry about dying."
"I almost died when I was fifteen."
"When your parents did?" He traced the lines of my tattoo again and again.
"Yes. It was a car accident. It left me in the ICU for a week. When I got out, I couldn't walk, and my back was messed up. It took six months of rehab and physical therapy to get back to normal. I have to be careful, do all sorts of exercises and yoga, but I mostly manage okay."
"Is there anything you can't do?"
I took a deep breath. He was asking about sex, if there was anything he needed to be careful about. It was a concern and the main reason why I'd never considered anything casual. I didn't want to have a back spasm on a stranger's bed.
But, mostly, I'd been fine. I shook my head. "I'll let you know if it starts acting up."
"Did you have anyone to help you?"
I nodded. "My sister. She's done a lot for me. Worked full-time instead of going to college. I owe her everything, and I'd do anything for her." Like take a merit-based scholarship at a school across the country instead of accepting her not-quite-boyfriend's manipulative offer to pay for my tuition.
"Where is she?" he asked.
"In New York. I miss everything back home, but mostly I miss her."
The wind picked up. It was cold and I was nearly naked.
Nick must have recognized it in my expression. He rubbed my arms as if to warm my up.
It was incredibly effective.
I ran my fingers over the metal railing. "She's not like me. She's an optimistic, romantic person who sees the good in everything."
"What are you like?"
"I don't know. A cynic, I guess." I shifted so I could feel his chest against my back. "After that accident, I was struck with this knowledge that I could lose everything at any moment. I didn't want to forget that feeling."
He looked closer. "You never forget something like that."
"Do you assume you know everything?"
"Only most things." He pressed his fingertips into my skin. "My mother had ovarian cancer. Stage four. She had a chance of survival, but it meant invasive surgery and a year of chemo and radiation."
"She decided to die instead of fighting it?"
"That is a pessimistic way of looking at it."
"And how did you look at it?"
"I was only nineteen. I was terrified."
I looked back to him. "You get scared?"
"Not often. It was over fast. Two months."
I swallowed hard. "So you know too, how little the world gives a fuck about you or anything you want? That you need to grab it and hold onto it before it's gone."
Nick nodded like he understood. He brought his body against mine. My bare skin pressed against his suit. Even with the thick fabric between us, I could feel the warmth of his body. I slung my hands around his neck and rose to my tiptoes.
He pulled my glasses off and set them on the side table. Almost. He leaned down and brushed his lips against mine. The kiss threw gasoline on the fire raging through me. Any doubts I had were burned away. I opened my mouth to make way for his tongue. He was an amazing kisser, aggressive and in control.
His hands slid around my waist and held me close. My sex clenched. When his hands drifted to my ass, I almost screamed.
The kiss broke, and he stared into my eyes. His expression was so intense, and I felt this need to fill the silence.
"I don't want to talk anymore," I said.
He pressed his lips to mine, and I knew we were done with the conversation part of the evening. Thank God, because I was quickly losing my ability to form a coherent thought.
Nick pushed my panties to my feet. I was naked on that balcony. The air was cold against my bare skin, but I didn't mind. My body was on fire. He was so close to touching me.
Then he was touching me. His hand skimmed my sex, stopping on my clit. The pressure was already so intense. I slung my arm around his neck to keep my balance.
He moved a little faster, a little harder. His other hand went to my chest. He traced circles around my nipples.
His kiss broke, and he stared into my eyes with equal parts care and demand. I stared back the best I could. It was too much. I had to close my eyes to contain the orgasm building inside me.
There.
My body clenched. I tugged at his oxford shirt, moaning as I came.
All my muscles relaxed at once. My knees buckled but he caught me. He lifted me into his arms, carried me into the main room, and laid me on the bed.
Slowly, Nick stripped to his boxers. His body was a work of art. Hard and defined.
And not a grey hair in sight.
He pressed his lips against my neck, then kissed a trail down my chest and stomach. "Spread your legs."
I did.
His fingertips brushed against the sides of my knees. They trailed up my thighs, getting closer and closer. He pressed his lips against my inner thigh. Then closer. Closer.
Then h
e was sucking on my outer lips. My legs rose of their own accord. Nick dug his hands into my thighs to hold them against the bed. He was in control, and I was pretty sure I liked it.
Pleasure built as he licked me up and down. I groaned, my free hand digging into the cool cotton sheets. His tongue was soft and his movements were confident. Finally, I understood all the fuss about oral sex. It was amazing.
My sex clenched, tighter and tighter, then so tight I wanted to scream. His next lick sent me tumbling into an orgasm.
"Nick," I screamed his name as I came. It encouraged him, made his tongue faster, more desperate.
He kissed his way back up my body, not shy about pressing his lips to mine. It was strange tasting myself. Intimate.
I ran my hands down his stomach. When I got to his belly button he recoiled, grabbed my wrist hard.
"Wait." He pressed my hand flat against the bed.
The look in his eyes was clear. He didn't want me touching him. Not his cock.
Okay. It was a shame, but I could manage it.
He reached for the bedside table for a condom and rolled it on. I leaned back, spreading my legs to give him access.
I took a deep breath, bracing myself. He was big.
Nick slid one hand under my ass, holding me in place. His cock strained against my sex. The latex tugged for a moment, then he slipped inside me.
Fuck yes. My body cried out with relief. I dug my nails into his strong back as he thrust into me. He started slow then went faster, harder, deeper. I rocked my hips to match his movements.
There were no words, but his body communicated so much.
Maybe I'd drunk too much of that whiskey, but I felt more than his cock inside me. There were no pretenses. This was Nick, the real Nick.
Every thrust sent me closer to another orgasm. This tall, dark, handsome stranger's body was pressed against mine. The anonymity of it all had me breathless. He was never going to see me again. There was no reason to hold back.
I clawed at his back, panting and screaming without a hint of shyness.
Every time I scraped my nails against his back or screamed his name, Nick moved faster or harder. His body was shaking. His eyes were heavy. He groaned and dug his teeth into the skin on my shoulder.
I bucked my hips to meet him. My heart was racing, my breath was completely out of my control. He felt good inside me. His skin felt good against mine. His lips felt good against mine.
And the night was ours.
When I came, I held back nothing. I screamed and panted and rocked my hips as quickly as I could. Nick dug his nails into my ass, holding my body against his so he could go deeper.
He wasn't far behind. He nipped at my shoulder as he came.
Our bodies untangled. I relaxed into the bed as he took care of the condom. He shifted back, next to me. His expression was soft, like we were old lovers instead of strangers.
"Have you eaten?" he asked.
"No."
"Then allow me." He pressed his lips to mine, pushed off the bed, and stepped into his slacks.
***
The rest of the night was a blur, thanks very much to the powers of rum and diet coke. We ate at some fantastic hole in the wall Chinese place. The food was spicy, authentic. I let everything off my chest, told Nick things I'd never told anyone. About the accident. About how lonely I was at school. About the things I wanted for my future, the way it only included me and my sister—no husband, no children, no pets. No concerns but my career. No one I could lose forever.
Back in the hotel room, we had sex. I fell asleep in his arms.
When I woke, he was gone. There was a change of clothes, all in my size, on the table. Next to it was a present—a white box with a sheer red bow. The card was simple.
Dear Marie,
Happy birthday. Think of me when you wear this.
Sincerely,
Nick
I pulled at the bow until it unfurled then opened the box. Inside was a set of lacy black lingerie. It was exactly like him—classy, elegant, refined.
I changed into my new threads. Knowing the lingerie was under my simple jeans and t-shirt made me feel racy, like I had a secret from the world.
I did. We did. We'd had this night together, and even though we'd never see each other again, it was ours.
CHAPTER THREE
Today
My cell phone's ring rouses me from my daydreams. Sarah.
"Hey," I answer.
"Meet me at 8:30 for dancing? Pretty please."
My former work friend's brand of dance-until-you-find-someone-to-take-home fun is exactly what I need. "That sounds perfect."
"Robin is still fucking that guy from The Gap. She went over there twenty minutes ago."
"Maybe they're having a nice conversation."
"You're not that naive, sweet thang." She laughs. "Club is all ages tonight. Leave your fake ID at home."
"Done."
"It's freezing out. Wear something cute under your coat. And tights or you take a cab. We have this pair here that you'd love—black with these silver hearts. All sweet and innocent like you."
"Funny."
"Ciao, bella."
I hang up and toss my phone on the bed in the guest room. The silence of the apartment amplifies my thoughts.
I dig through my bottom drawer to find the lingerie set he gave me. The sight of it is enough to make my heart race.
I do away with my clothes and pull on the lacy black bra and panty set.
It's almost like he's here. Like he's on the other side of the mirror, staring back at me with his eyes wide and his lips parted. Like he's about to press me onto the bed, peel my thong to my knees, and bury himself deep inside me.
But he's not here.
He's not fucking me.
He's not going to fuck me.
There are half a million eligible men in New York City.
Tonight, I'm going to find one, and I'm going to forget all about Phoenix Marlowe.
***
I meet Sarah at a club on the lower east side. Her hot pink dress makes her easy to spot.
She bounces hello and throws her arms around me.
I hug her back. It's been a while. It's nice to see her.
"You look hot as fuck. You're out for cock tonight, huh?" She throws her brown hair over her shoulder. "Oh shit. Your job thing was today, huh?"
"It was a nightmare. How's Pixie Dust?"
"Same old shit." She takes my arm and pulls me to the entrance. "What happened?"
"The guy who owns the company doesn't think I'm good enough for it."
"Fuck him then."
At nine on a Wednesday, there's no line. We show our IDs at the door—the backs of my hands are marked with swanky black Xs to signify that I am absolutely not to be served any alcohol—and walk inside.
The warehouse-turned-club has tall ceilings and soft red lighting. The dace floor is packed. The room is warm with body heat.
Sarah whispers in my ear, "I'll get you a rum and diet. Meet you on the floor."
She crosses to the bar. I follow a few paces behind, stopping in the middle of the vinyl. It only takes a moment for someone to approach me—a guy in his mid-twenties with strawberry blond hair and a navy shirt. It's a good combination.
"I'm Jason." He offers his hand.
I slide it around my waist. "Let's dance."
I sling one arm around his neck and sway my hips in time with the music. His shoulders slump like he's not sure what to do. I'm easy with my movements for a few minutes, but he doesn't get the hang of it.
Okay. I can work with that. I slide my arm around his neck and take the lead. He steps back like he's scared.
Fine. I excuse myself and dance alone. It's not quite as fun, but there's nothing limiting my movement. One thing about almost losing your ability to walk—you learn to appreciate everything your hips can do. I make figure eights, rolling my shoulders, shifting my weight between my legs.
My attention focuses on the poun
ding music and the motions of my body.
It's like a record skips.
There's this tall man thirty feet away. Dark hair, sleek black suit, perfect posture.
Nick.
His eyes find mine. They're just as demanding as they were in his office, as they were that night in San Francisco. He walks to me with a patient gait. His hand brushes against my shoulder. He leans in close, so his mouth is inches from my ear. "Let's talk."
I rise to my tiptoes so I can speak into his ear. It's the only way to communicate besides screaming. "What are you doing here?"
"This isn't a private club."
"Not your scene either." I step back. "Unless you're here to find a woman to take back to your place."
His eyes bore into me. He points to the red couch in the corner.
I step to the side. "We don't have anything to talk about. You have your company, and I have nothing. You don't have to rub it in."
"This is important."
His grip tightens around my shoulder, more protective than forceful. Heat rushes through me body. It's like I'm on fire. That demanding look in his eyes is enough to undo me, but his hands on my skin?
My breath catches in my throat. I take another step sideways. Nick wants to talk. I want that job. This opportunity is more important than my pride.
"Fine." I follow him to the couch in the corner. It's still loud, but not loud enough to overpower a conversation.
Nick sits next to me. His knee connects with mine. He turns his body towards mine, planting his hand just outside my thigh.
His thumb brushes against the hem of my dress. He moves his hand an inch, like it really was an accident. "I can't have this information get out."
"Which part—that you fucked me or that you chose not to hire me because of it?" So much for swallowing my pride. I really need a better handle on my temper.
"My personal life needs to stay private."
"Next time try using the telephone instead of stalking a girl to a club. How did you even know I was here?"
"Your friend tagged you on Instagram."
"You looked for me on social media?"
I go to push myself off the couch by Nick grabs my wrist.
The Billionaire's Need: An Alpha Billionaire Romance (The Billionaire's Deal Series Book 3) Page 2
