Total pages in book: 127
Estimated words: 122382 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 612(@200wpm)___ 490(@250wpm)___ 408(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 122382 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 612(@200wpm)___ 490(@250wpm)___ 408(@300wpm)
“Oration isn’t really my thing. Oral, however . . .” And there is that wickedness again.
Nerves and anticipation occupy my thoughts as he slides his arm around me, and we move back to the desk.
The key slides over the counter. “Can I get you some help with your bags?”
I don’t think she’s being facetious, but I almost die on the spot anyway. Nothing says one-night stand like a couple without bags.
“That won’t be necessary.” Matt is much cooler in his response—all suave insouciance. In other words, he has zero fucks to give.
I expect he’s had more practice at this than me.
We make our way to the elevator, and moments later, the doors glide closed.
I’m doing this. Really doing this!
I’m going to spend the night with a modern-day courtesan, a man who pleasures women for money. I bite the inside of my lip, giddy suddenly with the notion, because there’s no way Matt is a hired suit, a date to accompany you to a wedding or a business dinner. He’s too accomplished, too sensual, too plain hot for that. He’s definitely a full-service kind of escort, because what woman could keep her hands to herself?
I tense a little when his arm slides behind me, his hand cupping my hip. “You okay?”
I nod, not trusting myself to speak.
“See that handrail?” he whispers, pressing his mouth to my ear. “It’s just the right height, don’t you think?”
“Hush,” I hiss, even as my attention slides to the brass rail running around the elevator car, when what I want to ask is The right height for what? A barre class? Something to hold on to while the man rocks my world?
I don’t, obviously. We’re not alone in this tiny space, thanks to a uniformed attendant just a step or two away. The hotel is old-world fancy, and fancy people must not know how to use their fingers. Something tells me Matt knows how to use his fingers as they tighten on my hip with a squeeze. Then slide around to cup the round of my ass cheek.
“To alleviate the height difference, darlin’,” he adds, all feigned innocence and familiarity, as though we’re an old married couple instead of a pair that just checked in without luggage. “Kissing you is always a delight, teacup. Sitting you on the rail would just give the old neck muscles a rest.”
The elevator attendant, a lady of a certain age, glances briefly our way before smothering a soft, endeared smile. Of course, she’s completely unaware of Matt inching the fabric of my dress higher from behind.
Teacup? I mouth, unimpressed. “Because I’m small and dainty?” I say, leaving off fragile.
“Of course.” He leans closer, his next words a lower, hotter whisper. “And something I want to put my lips to.”
I swallow a gasp as his fingers slide between my legs.
“Right. Here.” His words are all hot breath against my neck as he curls his fingers in a torturous tease.
I close my eyes against the onslaught of images. His hands on my thighs, pushing them wide, the brush of his stubble, his tongue and his lips teasing, working me until I can barely breathe.
A ding sounds, and the attendant announces the floor number. “Have a good evening,” she says as we step out.
“Thanks. Me too,” I reply, turning beet red immediately. “You too, I mean,” I add, ignoring Matt’s chuckle.
“I thought you said you had nice manners.” I point an accusing finger at him as the doors glide closed again.
“I thought you said I was nice.” He wraps his hand around mine, my index finger still pointing. Everything south of my waist tightens as he closes his teeth over the knuckle. “I’m really not.”
“It’s all an act, huh?” My question sounds husky as his lips fold over my finger, and he gives a rumbling noise of assent. He watches me, his eyes playful, but there’s an intensity there too. The kind that makes my heart thump and my body tingle. I feel like I’m burning, but for the cool, damp tip of one finger as he pulls back.
“I’m not nice at all,” he murmurs.
“Are you trying to disappoint me?”
Matt suddenly pulls my body flush with his. My hand falls to his chest, the muscle and sinew underneath reacting deliciously to my touch.
“I wouldn’t dream of it.”
“Good. Don’t wanna make things too easy for you,” I whisper, tracing my thumb over a button on his shirt.
“You prefer to make it hard?”
A heady anticipation floods my veins as he gently tilts my head.
“Innuendo much?” I find myself whispering.
“You started it.”
“I—”
He swallows the rest of my response as our lips meet in a kiss that’s light and teasing. Notes of whiskey and champagne, lips lingering before those kisses deepen, until they’re filled with aching and promise. His thigh suddenly comes tight between my legs, tenderness traded for hot breath and a desperate sort of gracelessness. He feels so hard and so real as my fingers run over him, when he grips my butt and my back hits the wall.