Chapter 39
That’s a big promise
Harley
Iwaltz inside the Evangelista Lounge, and my step falters.
Woah.
My feet were rooted to the marble for a long time when I was downstairs admiring the breathtaking results of the recent renovations of this hotel. The elegant and sophisticated décor that welcomed me in the lobby extends to this lounge.
I shake out of my stupor and make my way to the bar.
My eyes widen at the showstopping displays of orchids in rectangular vases sitting at opposite ends of the bar.
Spectacular.
I would’ve sold my soul to have the Bymark Hotel as a client when I had my corporate floral business.
It’s the here and now, Harl.
There are a few men sitting alone at the bar, but only one of them has an empty stool next to him. When he turns his head to the side and exposes his gorgeous profile, I smile.
I stride across the lounge, soaking up the vibe.
Thirty-dollar drinks, sixty-dollar appetizers, and twenty-dollar desserts weren’t part of my reality when I was barely scraping by.
I guess it is now.
I tap on my role-playing partner’s shoulder.
He turns around.
I dial up my smile. “Is the seat next to you taken?”
He gives me a languorous onceover. “It is now.”
I move to the stool and hitch my body on it.
In a city where multimillionaires and multibillionaires abound, there’s no shortage of men in suits in New York, but none of them scream suit porn like the blue-eyed god sitting next to me.
My fake boyfriend selected a light gray suit that is no doubt bespoke. The H cufflinks adorning his white shirt elevate an already impeccable suit to cover model levels. I’ve spotted the same ones from Hermes on Ciara’s husband. I guess they’re a must-have accessory in a rich dude’s wardrobe.
My gaze travels up.
His hair, that usually looks like he’s run his fingers through it too many times in frustration, is neatly combed. His 5 o’clock shadow is so darn sexy, I want to feel the burn of it between my thighs.
“Are you objectifying me?” He arches a brow.
I am. “I was appreciating the fact that serendipity made it so I’m seated next to a man who wears a suit like he was born in one.”
He glances over his shoulder. “Plenty of other guys in suits in this lounge.”
“Really?” I frown. “There are other men here?” I shrug. “Hadn’t noticed.”
His lips part in a slow smile.
Wow.
It’s the second time since moving in with him that he’s graced me with such a precious gift. “Watch it, buddy. You might knock me off my seat with that dazzling smile.”
Said smile grows wider.
A waitress appears. “Can I get you anything, ma’am?”
“I’ll have a French 75, please.”
“Coming right up,” she says. “Would you like another one, sir?”
Kaz gulps down the remainder of his drink. “Yes, please.”
With that, she’s off.
“What’s in a French 75?”
I drop my clutch on the bar and use my hand to enumerate each ingredient. “Sparkling wine, gin, lemon juice, and a dash of simple sugar. A lounge like this one would probably use champagne instead of sparkling wine.”
“You have a fancy palate.”
“That’s a bold statement considering you don’t even know me… yet.”
“Let’s remedy that unfortunate situation. I’m Beckham,” he says. “What’s your name?”
“McKenzie.”
He extends a hand, and I shake it.
“Pleased to meet you,” he says.
“Same.”
We hold each other’s gaze for a long beat, and I topple head first into the ocean of endless abyss of gorgeousness that are his eyes. I could float there for an eternity.
The waitress returns with our drinks.
We thank her.
She nods and moves to the other side of the bar.
I take a small sip of my drink.
“Is it to your liking?”
“It is,” I say. “Have you ever had a French 75?”
“Until a few minutes ago, I didn’t even know that was a drink.”
“Do you want to try?”
“If you don’t mind?”
I slide my drink toward him.
“Thank you.” He turns the glass so the imprint of my lipstick faces him.
He lifts the drink and takes a sip by placing his lips over the imprint of mine.
I arch both brows.
Why was that simple act sexual?
He drops the glass on the bar. “It isn’t what I expected.”
I frown. “Oh.”
“What?”
“You’re wearing my lipstick.”
“That was intentional,” he says. “It was my subtle way of touching my lips against yours.” He licks his stained lips.
“Let me wipe that off.” I grab the napkin and reach for his lips, but he snatches my wrist.
“I haven’t given you permission to touch me, little one.”
The warning in his voice sends flurries of tingles straight to my clit.
I’m caught off guard.
His gaze drops to my mouth for a beat and the muscle in his jaw flexes.
We lock eyes onto each other for several heart-pounding breaths until I lower my hand.
“Good girl.” What I read in his gaze disarms me. Desire. Want. Need.
I shift in my seat.
He plucks the napkin from my fingers and wipes my lipstick off his lips.
I take a long gulp of my drink to cool down my lady parts.
He gives me another onceover and sinks his teeth into his lower lip.
I’ve never seen anything as sexy as my fake boyfriend-slash-role-playing-partner in this moment.
The way he’s staring…
Like he could eat me alive.
“You look stunning in that dress.”
I hope he’d like it.
“That color on a gorgeous blonde like you could stop traffic. The bright shade brings out the gold in your pretty green eyes.”
I blush. “You’re full of compliments.”
Once again, Judith scored. The ocean-blue sequined pareo skirt that hits below the knee and ties up at the front of the waist combined with the silk sleeveless tank top with a sexy deep V in a matching shade, the designer silver strappy heels, silver clutch, and white gold hoop earrings with diamonds make me feel like I have ten million dollars stashed in my bank account.
I turn on my seat so I’m facing him. “Under these lights, the blue matches your eyes.”
“I’m flattered,” he says.
He takes a sip of whatever liquid he has floating in his tumbler.
I enjoy a little more of my drink.
“Let me guess,” he says. “You had a hard week, and now you need to let some steam off.”
I cross my legs, making sure to hold my skirt so I don’t show any skin above the knee.
His gaze drops.
When his eyes lock onto mine again, the temperature in this lounge has risen by one hundred degrees.
“Yesterday, I came home early and caught my boyfriend fucking his married boss in our bed,” I say. “No wonder the bitch always gave me the stink eye.” I shake my head. “I kicked the cheating bastard to the curb.” I shrug. “Good riddance.”
“You don’t sound heartbroken.”
“Catching him cheating on me was a relief, Beckham. The relationship wasn’t going anywhere. We had been living like roommates for far too long.”
“The romance had fizzled out.”
I nod. “He used the excuse of working late and not wanting to disturb me when he got home to sleep on the couch. That had become his bed for the last six months. Lying, cheating scumbag.”
He leans in close.
His expensive cologne drifts to my nostrils, along with a copious dose of pheromones.
“Were things hot and heavy between you and your boyfriend before they turned cold?”
“For the first four months, it was exciting, but the moment we moved in together…” I sigh. “Everything between us became boring. And then I find out in the year we’ve been living together, he’d been cheating on me for six months. No wonder he was ignoring me.” I sigh again. “Thank God for BOB.”
He furrows his brows. “Bob?”
“My collection of battery-operated boyfriends.”
He nods a few times. “I can solve your problem.”
“I don’t follow.”
He leans close until his lips touch my earlobe. “McKenzie, you need to be properly fucked to make up for so many months of neglect.”
A little zip of awareness scuddles down my spine as those words land. The sensation is so delicious, I'm tempted to squirm as need pools in my core like warm honey.
He scoots his stool closer so our seats, thighs, and arms touch.
He turns his head in my direction, pins an elbow on the bar top, and places a hand in front of his mouth as a shield.
“Forget about ending a dry spell. I want to ride you so hard, you’ll lose your voice for the coming week because you’ll be screaming out my name at the top of your lungs as I make you come over, and over, and over again. ” His voice is doused in whiskey.
I press a hand over my chest to catch my breath.
Maybe I need to douse my body in whiskey to cool down.
I scan behind the bar, searching for any waiter privy to this salacious conversation. They’re all busy slinging drinks and chatting to patrons to pay us any mind.
“I want to ravish your sinful body in every possible position, against every fucking surface of my hotel room. All. Night. Long.”
Yes, please.
“I don’t want to leave an inch of you untouched.” His breath is warm against my ear, his husky voice doing things to me. “When I’m done with you, I’ll have turned you into an addict. A junkie who gets off on my cock.”
My panties erupt in flames and my pussy is on the verge of liquefying into a pool of lava, and ruin the carpet at my feet.
I swear, the A/C in this swanky lounge must be faulty.
I swipe above my upper lip and fan myself.
“Too hot to handle?”
I stare at him, my pulse pounding. Way too hot to handle. “That’s a big promise.”
“Here’s the thing about me, McKenzie, I always—always—overdeliver.”
My toes curl in pleasure in my strappy heels. I’m so aroused, I could climb into his lap and grind against him like a cat in heat until I come. His sexual magnetism has been off the charts from day one, but this evening, it’s at Richter scale levels.
He reaches inside the pocket of his jacket, pulls out a hotel card, holds it between us before dropping it on the bar countertop. He slides it toward me. “You take me up on my offer or you go home to your collection. What will it be, McKenzie? Beckham or BOB?”
An electrical current sizzles through me, lighting up every nerve ending.
I grab the card, open my clutch, and drop it inside.
I meet his gaze. “Beckham. Definitely Beckham.”
His lips break into a smile so blinding, I swear it’s enough to knock me up.