Chapter 14
14
I sit on the gigantic bed for a minute, to catch my breath. It’s nice to have a moment alone, after a very intense few hours. I’m tempted to call Cleo because I feel like talking to someone, but then she’d want every detail and it’s not good timing. She’ll ask too many questions about the sleeping arrangements and I can’t even go there yet.
The room is palatial. An entire wall of windows showcases the view of the water, shimmering with silver moonlight and dotted with a few anchored boats.
A high-vaulted ceiling has painted white beams, and a dark-wood ceiling fan shaped like palm fronds spins slowly. Expensive-looking table lamps give the space a low, golden light. I turn off all but one. It’s the kind of over-the-top luxury that takes a little getting used to.
I unlock the sliding glass doors and open one halfway, to let some air in. I can hear music playing in the distance.
Then I contemplate the bed I’m going to be sharing with Alexander Maddox, investment mogul, CEO of Maddox Enterprises, elusive grump, and one of Manhattan’s most eligible bachelors. It’s a little daunting, but at least the bed is big enough to sleep a family of six.
I honestly didn’t see him coming. I already feel like I’ve changed. Something about being around him makes me feel…powerful. Feminine. The way he looks at me with that dark fascination. The sound he made when I sucked gently on his tongue.
He’s a force to be reckoned with. The most infuriating man I’ve ever met. I can admit he’s also the most gorgeous, by a country mile. Magnetic and bossy as hell. Built like an elite athlete. A very well-hung one. Not that I have a lot of experience with things like that, but I haven’t exactly grown up in a vacuum. The man is obviously exceptional, on every level.
I still haven’t recovered from the feel of that gigantic thing he’s packing from when I sat on his lap.
The goodnight kiss ramped up the memory, igniting my body like he’s lit little fires along my bloodstream—and between my thighs, where I’m wet again.
I’ve never experienced this kind of reaction to a man before. I feel flushed and strangely reckless.
And I’m relieved to see that there’s a mountain of pillows I can discretely use to make a barrier between us.
Do I want to?
Of course I do. It’s ridiculous to get carried away by a staged kiss with a total—okay, not total—stranger.
He’s not a stranger when you know what the ridges of his cock feel like pressed up against your softening pussy. And that his tongue tastes like whiskey and mint when it sinks into your mouth and tangles silkily with yours.
I’ve already been more intimate with Alexander Maddox than I’ve been with anyone else in my life.
But I remind myself that it’s an act we’re putting on, and nothing more. It doesn’t mean anything. He’s probably out there flirting with a flock of socialites as we speak.
Can a man get a colossal hard-on as an act?
I mean, I don’t think so, but what do I know?
It makes me wish I wasn’t so inexperienced. I’m pretty sure you can’t fake chemistry like that, though. Sparkling, magical chemistry that’s playful but at the same time…scorching hot.
But maybe that’s just another part of the act.
It’s confusing.
I’m flustered by the crazy reactions of my body, especially when my common sense is telling me to get real. He paid a lot of money to make this whole charade convincing. Most likely that’s all that’s happening here.
I get up to check my phone again for messages from Josh. Or anyone else, including detectives and whatnot.
The only texts are from Cleo.
Hope you’re having fun!!!
Txt me if he’s being an a-hole and I’ll get Noah to do some damage control!
Txt me when you get a chance!
Hope it’s going well!!
I text back a quick reply.
He’s not being an a-hole. Everything is fine
The venue is OTT beautiful and so far we’ve managed to successfully trick the evil ex. I’ll msg you tomorrow xx
Then I go into the bathroom and turn on the shower, peeling off my dress. I’m slightly mortified to find that my tiny lace panties are absolutely saturated. Yikes.
The shower is heavenly. Three shower heads offer various levels of massage, releasing a fraction of the tension knotting my shoulders. I let the water sluice over my skin. Over my breasts and the tight peaks of my nipples. Down my stomach and over my hipbones.
Between my legs.
God, I’m so sensitive there. I almost feel like I could…get there, just from the sensual flow of the water.
As horny as I might be, I’m not going to get myself off in the shower when my fake date could walk in any minute. Most likely he’ll be another hour or more, but still. I’d rather be safely tucked into bed, hopefully sound asleep.
I turn off the shower, grabbing a fluffy towel and wrapping it around myself.
My small suitcase has been placed in the corner and I flip it open, searching through the clothes Cleo packed for me.
Cleo, what the hell?
Not only are the only pajamas a tiny, tight-fitting, slinky little white satin and lace number, it also barely reaches the tops of my thighs.
I keep searching.
Cleo!
She didn’t pack a single pair of panties.
There are two tiny bikinis but I don’t really want to wear my bathing suit to bed. I almost tell her off by text message but I’m very aware that Alexander could swan in at any moment and I’m standing here dressed in nothing but a very see-through piece of lace and nothing else.
I quickly dry off my hair, running a brush through it. Then I brush my teeth before padding back into the bedroom, fishing around for my charger to plug in my phone and crawling between the soft sheets.
The minute my head sinks into the plush pillow, I can’t help it. I sigh. This bed is ridiculously comfortable.
My heartbeat starts to even out and I turn on my side, facing away from Alexander’s side of the bed, curling into the fetal position. Which makes my tiny nightie ride up, exposing my ass.
Cleo!
I tug it back into position as best I can.
And I forgot to put up the pillow barrier next to me.
But it’s fine. I’ve never slept in a Californian king before. There’s plenty of space between his side and mine.
This is going to be fine.
Except that the tiny pulse is back again. There.
What if…I mean, when you think about it, it could be…maybe…a very convenient scenario to…cash in my V-card.
There’s no doubt he’s the best candidate to come along so far. He’s beautiful. He’s allergic to commitment, so I won’t have to deal with an actual relationship, which I’m not ready for anyway. And, if that giant cock I felt through my dress is any indication, he’s ready.
I could have a very brief fling with the hot billionaire then make a run for it at the end of the weekend. Then I wouldn’t have to wonder anymore. I could rip off the bandaid, so to speak, and re-emerge into the real world armed with experience, a nicely padded bank account and a brand new outlook.
It’s a win-win. Isn’t it?
Do it, whispers the newly voracious little devil on my shoulder. Cash it in. He’ll be rough. Punishing, in the best kind of way. And very, very thorough.
The thought makes my body feel warm and softly electric.
It would be so easy to tempt him. Just roll over and kiss him again.
Would he let me?
Of course he would. Gently suck on his tongue, like you did when you were sitting on his lap. When he groaned like an animal. This time, when you touch his chest, he won’t be wearing his suit. His big, buff body will be warm and hard and hair-dusted.
God. I’m hot. I feel so restless. My pussy feels slippery and lightly swollen.
Get a grip, girl!
It takes a while, but I gratefully drift into a soft, dreamy sleep.
I dream of that dark challenge in his blue, blue eyes.