“How about putting that please to better use then,” he commands as he casts me onto his bed. He’s in bossy-pants mode and I’ve got to say, I’m cool with that in the bedroom.
I lift up onto my elbows. My blush-pink shift dress is bunched around the tops of my thighs, and Drew can’t seem to decide where to look first, his roving eyes moving all around my body. I’m wearing two articles of clothing: the dress and a pair of white G-string panties. All part of my master plan for tonight.
“You mean like ‘please get me naked, Drew.’ Or ‘please kiss me, Drew.’”
He loosens his tie.
“Wait.” I scramble onto my knees. “Let me do that… Please,” I add with a simper.
I want to enjoy every moment, every minute, every aspect of my time with Drew, including having my hands on his sexy suit and then not.
He drops his arms and steps within reach, giving me the okay to have my way with him. Our eyes never leave each other as I unknot his tie and let it drop to the floor. Next, I slide my palms under his coat and over his shoulders and guide the expensive cloth down his arms until it slips free of his hard, well-toned body. He breathes a little harder. A little faster.
“This is fun,” I say.
“The longer it takes you, the longer it’s going to take me.”
“Doubtful.” I work the buttons of his shirt from top to bottom. I think he means to return the favor, but I’m pretty sure he can’t wait to lift my dress off me.
“Are you questioning my patience, Al? Because I can and I will take my sweet time with you if that’s a challenge.”
“Hmm…” I push his shirt off him. It’s beautifully clear Drew takes care of himself from the carved muscle detailing his arms and abs. I want to lick him. The thought is so foreign, and animalistic, that I almost cover my face in embarrassment.
Instead, I stick my tongue out and slide it over his pec. His skin is warm. Soft, but hard. The muscle there flexes in response, boosting my confidence. My impact on a man I’m hopelessly falling for.
I pull back. Last weekend Drew got to know me intimately, but he didn’t get to see all of me. I’ve never been shy about my body, but I’ve only shown it to one other man. Everything I’ve done and learned in the bedroom has included a safety net: a person who explored with me and shared the same firsts. A person who loved me. Who might still.
There is nothing safe about this time.
I lift my dress up and over my head and toss it to the side. My nipples are hard points. My breathing is ragged. My stomach quivers in anticipation.
Drew looks at me like I’m a snow cone in the middle of the Mojave Desert. His gaze sweeps over every inch of me, sparking goose bumps to pop up on my skin.
“You are gorgeous, Al.”
“You are, too.” I reach for him again. I can’t help myself.
Only he’s faster. He slams his mouth against mine in a kiss that sets off fireworks behind my eyelids. He brings me flush against him with one hand on my butt and the other curved around the back of my neck. His heart is pounding as hard as mine. His erection presses between my legs.
The hold is possessive. I melt beneath his touch.
We kiss until we need a breath and then he lays me down on my back. His hands make quick work of his belt. I watch as he unbuttons and unzips his pants, pushes them down. He tries to take off his shoes and socks and kick off his slacks at the same time and loses his balance.
I laugh. “What was that you were saying about patience?”
“It’s overrated,” he growls, righting himself.
I lift my arms above my head. Curve slightly at the waist. Press my legs together and bend them at the knees. Bite my lip. My seductive pose works. He loses his balance again.
“You want to play, huh?” His husky voice is laced with warning.
“It seems I do.” I love the playful side Drew brings out in me.
His eyes glitter like light on water. And God, I don’t care if I sink.
He removes his boxer briefs and stands at the foot of the bed to let me visually explore every inch of his six-foot naked body. Except his shins and feet. I can’t see those from my position. Which is more than fine since I’m currently much more interested in his erection. His beautifully thick, long length is standing at attention. For me.
Drew strokes himself. It’s the most erotic thing I’ve ever seen. I like how unabashed he is. I like staring at his fist wrapped around his shaft as he moves slowly up and down.
I shift on the plush comforter, slide my hand down my stomach to rub myself over my panties.
“Jesus,” he rasps.
I’m wet. Achy. Dying for him to come inside me. But I’m also lost to this moment of naughty surrender where we watch each other with lust and abandon. I’ve never felt sexier. Never craved someone so much.
Time passes at a snail’s pace, gifting me the pleasure of Drew’s body and dirty act. Soon, though, it’s not enough. I need his hands on me. His mouth. His body.
“Drew.”
“Yes, gorgeous?”
I stop touching myself and lift up onto my elbows. “Get over here.”
“Or what?” he teases, staying right where he is. He wins the patience game, damn him.
Rather than answer, I use brand-new ninja skills I didn’t know I had to grab him around the waist and pull him down on top of me. He comes willingly, bracing his elbows on either side of me so he doesn’t crush me.
We laugh.
And then finally, he kisses me. His mouth devours mine, but only for a moment before his lips move to my jaw, my neck. He kisses his way down to my breasts where he lavishes each one with a gentle touch, like he already knew how much the soft brushes of his lips over my nipples would make me even more needy for him.
I run my fingers through his hair then lift his head back up to mine.
“Tell me what you want,” he says.
“I want you inside me.”
“Which part of me? My tongue? My fingers?”
I shake my head at the same time I take his length in my hand. He’s hot and slick at the tip and I don’t care if he pushes my underwear to the side again. I just need him thrusting inside me. “This part,” I urge.
He smiles, part playful part depraved. “Say no more.” He slides my G-string down my legs while he regards my body with appreciation. “I could look at you all day,” he whispers.
The feeling is mutual.
Reaching over to the nightstand, he opens the drawer to retrieve a condom. He’s got my full attention as he rolls it on. And my full attention when he parts my thighs and enters me. Slowly. Giving me time to adjust to his size.
I lock my legs around his waist, thrust my hips against his. I’m done with the leisurely state of our lovemaking.
Drew kisses me on the mouth as he buries himself all the way inside me. I cry out in bliss. It’s heaven all over again, only this time there’s something more to it. Being connected like this cracks open my carefully maintained dedication to the past. It gives way to new feelings. Deeper feelings. Afraid of what that means, I focus on Drew’s body. The rhythm of his thrusts, the smell of our arousal. I press my heels into the backs of his thighs. Dig my fingernails into his shoulders. I’m lost to every delicious stroke, sensations blooming hotter and more intense.
We move together in oneness.
And it’s that sneaky thought—being in total harmony with Drew—that sends me over the edge.
Drew keeps a steady pace through my orgasm and when my body goes molten, he drives into me harder, faster, chasing his release on the heels of mine. He pushes in deep, deeper than I’ve ever felt before then goes rigid, groaning in pleasure before collapsing on top of me.
Our bodies are slippery with sweat. Our breathing rapid. He kisses behind my ear then rolls onto his back. I immediately miss his warmth.
Side by side, our gazes on the ceiling, he laces his fingers with mine. The small gesture of keeping us connected means more than he’ll ever know.
> “I’m going to need to repeat that after dinner,” he says.
I grin so big my cheeks hurt. “Okay.”
“With a few changes. But don’t worry, the outcome will be the same.” His cocky, yet lighthearted tone is a ridiculously sexy combination.
“I have no doubt.”
What is in question is my ability to not be affected more than I already am. As much as I worry and wonder if I should run away from Drew, I want to stay.
Chapter Fifteen
Lessons in Affection
Drew
“The tattoo on your hip, does it have significant meaning?” I ask, eating asopao across the table from Alejandra. It’s one of the most delicious foods I’ve ever tasted and I’ve tasted a ton of great food given Ethan owns the hottest restaurant in LA. Not to mention my restaurant downstairs and the others in my family’s hotels. The best way to describe Alejandra’s dish is a cross between soup and paella.
“Gabriela has the same one on her hip. We wanted something simple to bond us when we turned eighteen. To us it means our hearts are always interlinked.” She puts her spoon down, dots the corners of her mouth with a napkin. “Have you ever wanted to get a tattoo?”
I register her question but I lose focus for a moment. That mouth. The wavy shape of her lips that drives me wild with want. Alejandra steals my concentration on a regular basis. She’s unlike any woman I’ve been with before. Sweet, but argumentative. Kind, yet resolute. She’s comfortable with who she is and couldn’t care less about impressing me.
Side note: At the moment, she’s wearing nothing but a hair tie to keep her messy bun in place and my white dress shirt and it’s very impressive.
“Drew?”
“I almost did in college. One night after a fraternity party a few of us went to a parlor to get our Greek letters inked on our arms, but it was late and there wasn’t enough time to do West and me.”
At mention of West, a faint line bisects her brows before she looks across the room. Candlelight throws a shadow across her cheek. I’m a dumbass for saying his name. Tonight is strictly about the two of us.
“What books are you reading?” I ask, to get her mind off my best friend. If there’s a way to bridge the gap between them that works in both their favor, I will do it. I just haven’t had time to think on it.
She rattles off two titles, her favorite hobby erasing her frown. “The second one is a Reese’s Book Club pick, and it’s soooo good.”
“How good is it?” I tease.
“It’s almost better than sex,” she says matter-of-factly.
I laugh. That’s another thing about Alejandra. She makes me feel lighter.
“I’m serious.” Her earnest expression is damn cute.
“So, you’re saying for all intents and purposes, the book can give you as good an orgasm as I have?”
“That’s not what I said, but some books have that potential, yes.” She takes a bite of her stew.
“Got it. Who’s Reese?”
She looks at me like I’m from another planet. “Reese Witherspoon.”
“She has a book club? How does that work?”
Alejandra pushes her stew to the side. “She recommends a book every month and posts it to social media. She has a huge following. She’s made books into bestsellers.”
“Wow.”
“You know,” Alejandra puts her elbow on the table, her chin in her hand. “Reading is something a lot of people do when on vacation. In hotels.”
I nod, taking my final spoonful of stew.
“You’ve been looking for something different to make The Surfeit special.”
“Mmmhmm,” I mutter through a closed mouth.
“You’re kind of famous and probably know people in Hollywood. What if you reached out to Reese and formed a partnership? Whatever book she picks you could buy and put in every room for hotel guests to read during their visit.” She sits taller; excitement twinkles in her eyes. “Instead of chocolate or whatever else you might put on the bed for new guests, you could leave the book! You’d be promoting reading, helping authors, and I imagine having Reese’s name attached to your hotel could only help. Granted, there’s a big cost involved, but think of all the publicity. Reese puts a book club sticker on the book she picks so maybe she could put a Surfeit sticker somewhere? I’m thinking the sky’s the limit here.”
I stare at her as I let that all digest. “That’s a brilliant idea.”
“You really think so?”
“I do. To the best of my knowledge no other hotel does anything like that. We supply a curated publication on local shopping and activities, but you might have hit on something next level.”
“Probably,” she boasts. “And think of all the pictures guests will take with the book. On your property. You could come up with a special cocktail to go with each book. Oh! And you could make Surfeit bookmarks. Even someone who might not be interested in the book will probably take and keep the bookmark.” She makes a sour face. “That is the one downside. Not everyone will be interested in the book. On the flipside, the book selection changes every month so you’ll most likely have some winners and some less favored reads. Your marketing people probably have tools to track that kind of thing and gauge your customers’ habits. The book club has been around for a couple of years so if one month you want to do a throwback because you think the current selection might not be as popular, you could.”
If I thought Alejandra was hot as hell before she started spouting a plan to put my guest services on a new trajectory with crazy new potential, imagine how smoking hot she is now. I’m so blown away, I don’t know what to say. And it’s not her smarts that have me tongue-tied, because I’ve admired her intelligence from day one. No, it’s her honest-to-goodness desire to help me. Hell, to gift thousands of people with a program like this.
“Beautiful, smart, and altruistic. If you’re not careful, you’ll never get rid of me, Al.”
She quickly looks down at her lap. I’m not sure which parts of what I said bother her most, but I don’t regret a single word. I lean over, lift her chin with the back of my hand. “Thank you. I can’t wait to share your idea with my team. Now, I need to do something for you. I know it’s technically something you want to do on your own, but if you’d like a guitar lesson, I’m at your service.”
“You have a guitar here?”
“Yes.”
“Could you teach me how to play a whole song?” Gone is her apprehension and in its place is the pure, unguarded radiance that makes it hard for me to breathe.
“Did you have a certain song in mind?”
“No, not at all. I wouldn’t even know where to start. Obviously, I need something easy. I’ve never even held a guitar before.”
“Tonight’s your lucky night, then.” And yes, I mean that in more ways than one. I get to my feet. “Come on. I’ll clean up the dishes later.” I pull out her chair. She stands and walks with me to my bedroom. I’m playing with fire here, opening myself up in a way I haven’t since that horrible night in college, but with Alejandra I’m operating on instinct.
“How long have you played?” she asks.
“Since high school.” I pick up the straight-backed desk chair in the corner of my room and put it down facing the foot of the bed. My mind wanders back to an hour ago when we watched each other touch ourselves before I buried myself inside her. My dick twitches remembering how tight she was, how perfect, how her muscles clenched around me when she came. Being with her in that way rocked my world and there is no going back. I want her in a way I’ve never wanted anyone else, and yet there’s her ex looming over our heads in a way I’m not sure how to remedy. He’s coming back.
If I come on too strong, I’m afraid she’ll run. If I don’t come on strong enough, I’m afraid she’ll leave.
“Have a seat,” I tell her, pushing aside what comes next. We’ve got two weeks until my grandmother’s birthday party so she’s mine at least until then.
As she sits, I walk into
the closet and retrieve my guitar. Alejandra tracks my every move as I walk back out, around the bed, and sit at the foot, facing her, our knees almost touching.
I take a moment to admire her in nothing but my dress shirt, the top two buttons unfastened, the hem hitting the middle of her pretty thighs. She’s sitting up straight, hands clasped in her lap, her legs pressed together, feet flat on the floor. A few wisps of hair have escaped her bun and frame her face. Her student pose is sexy as all get-out, and I’m ready to teach her every fucking thing I know.
“First rule of guitar playing,” I say. “Relax and have fun.”
“I can do that.”
“Quick rundown of the parts. Neck, bridge—” I touch each part as I go “—headstock, turning pegs, frets. You hold the guitar like this.” I rest the bridge of the guitar on my right thigh under my arm, the neck in my left hand. “The back of the guitar should touch your stomach and chest so that your body cradles it. Your right hand will strum and your left hand should be able to move smoothly up and down. Like this.” I demonstrate then pass the guitar to Alejandra.
“Give it a try and don’t be discouraged if it’s uncomfortable. It takes time to get used to the position.”
She hits it out of the ballpark on the first try.
“That’s great,” I tell her.
“It’s awkward but with practice, I guess you get used to it.”
“You do.”
“Can I ask you something?” She holds on to the guitar, making slight adjustments to get more comfortable.
“Anything.”
“When I first met your grandmother, that morning in the lobby, she said it was a shame you didn’t play anymore. But here’s a guitar, here with you, rather than at your house.”
We gaze at each other. As always, I see compassion. Kindness. I’m not sure what she sees.
“I’m guessing you stopped playing after what happened in college, which is completely understandable.”
I nod.
“But you loved it too much to quit forever, and I’m glad. That would have meant that bitch won and that’s unacceptable.” She hands me back the guitar. “Play something for me?”
Hot Shot (American Royalty Book 3) Page 15
