Chapter 18
18
I open my eyes. I wait for the familiarity to settle, used to feeling a little unsure of my surroundings. I live in Soho now.
But I’m not in Soho. A ceiling fan circles slowly above me and everything comes rushing back.
I’m in Alexander Maddox’s hotel room. In the Hamptons.
My fake date.
Oh my god. We spent most of the night…having hot, crazy sex.
Very unprotected hot, crazy sex.
I’m going to need to think about this, about what I’m going to do. My period is due in a few days. Maybe it’s too late in my cycle. Maybe it takes more than…four times.
Oh shit.
I groan even though I can’t summon even a single iota of regret. Even though I really, really should be able to.
This is bad.
I turn to his side of the bed, gasping at the new aches and pains in my body. I’m very sore. My virginity has been well and truly cashed in. Repeatedly and extremely thoroughly.
God, it was so amazing.
Alexander’s gone. There’s a note on the pillow and a single red rose.
Good morning gorgeous,
You looked so peaceful I couldn’t bear to wake you. I’ve gone fishing with Blake and the others. I’ll be back in a few hours. Call room service when you’re ready and they’ll bring you breakfast. You’ll be hungry. Then I’d like you to sleep some more, or relax by the pool, swim, order more room service and wait for me.
P.S. You’re the most beautiful, sexy, perfect and delectable woman in the world. I’ll spend the entire fishing trip thinking about you and counting the minutes until I can see you again.
A
Wow.
The hot, grumpy billionaire is…sweet. And romantic.
Yesterday, I wouldn’t have believed it. But now I know better. I’m not surprised that Alexander Maddox is as insistent and ruthless in bed as he is out of it. But he’s also a very attentive, tender and dedicated lover. He lavished me with so many orgasms I lost count.
He made sure he got his way, but he felt me so deeply. He made sure my pleasure was the priority, and that my pleasure worked his. He played my body like Yo-Yo Ma plays his freaking cello.
My stomach growls.
He’s right, I am hungry. Starving, in fact. I feel like I’ve run a marathon.
Gingerly, I sit up. I’m sore in places I didn’t even know I had muscles. I climb out of bed, adjusting to my new body. The one that’s been made love to so thoroughly I feel like a completely different person. A freer one. A more powerful one.
The bed looks like a three-day orgy took place in it. There’s a light smear of blood on the sheets.
Yikes.
How many times did he come inside me? Three? Four? Five?
I really can’t believe we got so carried away. I can’t believe I got so carried away and I can’t believe Mr. Control Freak did either. I only just met him, but it seems out of character for him. I mean, who does that?
Who jumps into bed with an almost-stranger and has unprotected sex with him all night long, throwing all caution to the wind just to have simultaneous multiple orgasms for the very first time in her life?
Me, apparently.
That’s not okay. You need to deal with this.
I will. But I carefully slide the a-lot-of-very-real-issues-to-worry-about circular thought process into a file near the back of my brain labeled I Definitely Will Worry About All Of Them, In Excruciating Detail, Maybe Even Later Today, But Not Right This Moment.
There’s a white terrycloth robe in the open closet. I put it on, tying the belt. Then I pick up the hotel phone. For reception, press 1, it reads.
They pick up on the first ring. “Good morning, Miss Ivy. We’ve been waiting for your call. We hope you’ve had a restful sleep. Do you prefer coffee or tea?”
“Um…coffee please. And could I please order some fruit?”
“Do you have any special dietary requirements, Miss Ivy?”
“No, but if you have any fruit?—”
“Mr. Maddox has selected a wide variety of dishes for you, Miss Ivy, among them a platter of fresh-cut organic fruits sourced from ethically-selected growers worldwide, including Hawaiian pineapple, locally-grown watermelon, New Zealand kiwis, coconuts imported earlier this week from Thailand, Georgia peaches, and seventeen others, which I’d be happy to list for you if you’d like.”
“Oh. No, that’s fine.”
“Wonderful. We’ll have your nutritious and rejuvenating breakfast delivered to your room within ten minutes.”
“Okay. Thank you.”
Wow, this place has amazing service.
I use the ten minutes to take a quick shower. It’s strangely emotional watching the rivulets of water on the white stone of the shower floor, tinted with my own blood and the evidence of our lovemaking.
It was as beautiful as it possibly could have been. I wish we could do it all over again.
I’m glad I waited for him. Even if I never see him again after tomorrow, I’ll always have this piece of him, this memory of what I can only describe as…well, the best night of my entire life. It sounds dramatic and it is. It felt so good to be treasured. To feel so beautiful that a man like Alexander Maddox couldn’t control himself and didn’t want to. There’s a power to that that I’ll take with me. I’ll hold it—and him—close to my heart for the rest of time.
That might not be the only thing you’re holding.
I’ll deal with everything I need to deal with, like I always do. And I’ll get on with rest of my life.
Hot sex with my fake date was…incredible. But I can’t let myself be deluded into thinking it was more than that. Maybe sex is that connective. How would I know? Maybe it’s one of those things that bonds two people just because it’s the most intimate act of them all.
It felt like more than that.
It felt life-changing and extraordinary. I feel like I could…fall for him. He was so beautiful, so big, so freaking good at?—
There’s a loud knock on the door.
I turn off the shower, quickly dry myself and put my robe on, padding to the door—making a small detour to pull the duvet up over the sheets—to open it.
“Greetings, Miss Ivy.” Three waiters are standing there with rolling trays full of silver domes covering at least twenty different plates, as well as juices, coffee and a bottle of champagne on ice. They start wheeling them into the room.
“Wow, this is so much food.”
“At Mr. Maddox’s insistence, Miss Ivy. He wanted to make sure you had enough to eat.”
A woman dressed in a hotel uniform follows the waiters, carrying a huge bouquet of gorgeous pink peonies. She sets them on the table. “For you, Miss Ivy,” she smiles. “From Mr. Maddox.”
They unload all the plates, removing the silver domes and arranging everything sort of artfully, then they wheel the carts to the door. “Have a wonderful day, Miss Ivy.”
“Thank you.”
I’ve never seen so much food in my life. There’s the fruit platter—which alone could feed me for a week—scrambled eggs, bagels with cream cheese, smoked salmon and capers, an antipasto platter, fresh bread with butter and jam, rashers of crispy bacon, hash browns, a basket of croissants, donuts, little cartons of different flavored yogurts, cereal, French toast and waffles with maple syrup.
I couldn’t eat all this in a month, but it does look delicious and my stomach growls again at the sight.
I pour myself a cup of coffee and make a small plate of fruit, adding a few pieces of bacon and a chocolate croissant, carrying it out to the patio, grabbing my phone on the way to check my messages.
It’s a clear, perfect day and very warm. The water is calm and a few boats are out, making wakes. In the distance, along the shore, I can see the rows of chairs lined up in front of the altar and hotel staff busily getting ready for the wedding.
I have one message from Cleo.
CALL ME
And none from Josh. Damn it, Josh. You better have taken care of it.
I take a selfie with a backdrop of the view and send it to Cleo.
My phone immediately rings with a FaceTime call.
I almost don’t answer it, but then she’ll worry and there’s no point putting off the inevitable. “Hey, Clee.”
“I want to hear about everything. How was your night?”
“It was…good.” I almost smile at the understatement, but I make a point of not being too obvious. It was extremely hot and exceptionally orgasmic. It was also somehow absolutely perfect.
“How did the whole sharing one bed thing go? Was it awkward?”
What to say? “No. No, it was fine. I slept really well, actually.” Not a total lie. Those last few hours of sleeping in were the restorative REM kind of sleep.
I will end up telling Cleo at least most of what happened, but I can’t do it now. I’m still only halfway through the weekend and at this point, anything could happen. Plus I’m not quite ready to talk about what happened last night. It’s a monumentally big deal and I need to process it before I can provide a detailed tell-all to my very inquisitive bestie.
“Is he being nice?”
“Yes, he’s being nice. He’s actually not as grumpy as I was expecting.”
“That’s good. Is he there? Am I on speaker?”
“No, he’s gone fishing with the groom and a few other guys from the bridal party.”
“I’m glad he’s being civilized, Ive. I give Alexander a hard time because he’s always scowling at everyone when he comes to meetings at IE, but I’ve always thought there’s a lot more to him. His brothers always say his bark is worse than his bite and that he’s carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders, but somehow his heart of gold remains intact.”
It’s a nice description, and it fits.
“He’s just a hard nut to crack,” she adds.
Actually not that hard. “You should see the breakfast he ordered for me.” I wander inside and point my camera at the table full of food.
“Holy shit. And flowers? Wait…did you guys…hook up?”
“What?” I laugh. “Of course not. He was just saying thank you. For doing this whole fake date thing.” I hate lying to her but she’ll go absolutely apeshit if I tell her the truth, and I’m still figuring out how to navigate this whole situation. It’s hard enough to come to terms with the thought of what I’ve just done, I can’t yet deal with the reality—and saying the words will make the whole thing much more real.
Oh and by the way, Clee, Alexander Maddox just boned me into next week. It was my very first time and my very first orgasm—as well as my second, third, fourth, fifth and sixth—and now I can barely walk. Oh, and we also didn’t use protection of any kind whatsoever so I could possibly dealing with ten different kinds of fallout from that, any one of which could completely change my life, and not necessarily in a good way. But how are you?
It’s a lot. So I choose the more forgiving path, at least until I can talk about it with her in person. “He’s been a complete gentleman.” In public. In private, he’s a well-hung caveman with mad skills and a dirty mind.
“What time’s the wedding?” she asks, totally buying my lie.
I know she’ll forgive me when I get a chance to explain everything. “Two o’clock. Until then, I’m going to go work on my tan by the infinity pool.”
“Wear that little animal print bikini I packed for you.”
“Thanks for not packing me any undies, by the way.”
She giggles. “Sorry. I might just be veeerrry secretly hoping that you two will fall madly in love and ride off happily into a beautiful sunset together.”
“Yeah right.” My heart skips a beat at her description. I have to remind myself that isn’t going to happen. Alexander is not my handsome billionaire boyfriend and—hot sex or no hot sex—I’m still here to play a role. I pull the tiny shred of animal skin fabric out of my suitcase. “You mean this one?”
“When he sees you in that…all bets are off. You’re going to totally scandalize the Hamptons. God, I wish I was there to see their faces.”
“Do I really have to ‘scandalize’ anyone?”
“Of course you do.” There’s a beep at her end. “Oh, Sam’s calling me, sweetie, I have to go. Send me a picture of you by the pool and have fun. Call me later.”
“Bye, Clee. Tell Sam I said hi.”
We end the call and I stand in front of the full-length mirror. I let the robe drop and pull on the minuscule bikini.
Cleo’s not wrong. This bikini really might scandalize the Hamptons. Two small triangles of fabric barely cover my nipples, revealing the rest of the fullness of my breasts almost completely. The lower triangle barely covers the parts it’s supposed to cover. And it’s a thong.
I turn, getting a view of myself in the mirror from different angles. I’m really not sure this is a good idea.
As though Cleo’s reading my mind, I get a text at that exact moment.
Don’t second guess it. You look freaking hot and you know it. WEAR IT. And work it, girl! You’re a smoke show and everyone wishes they were as gorgeous as you. Love u xx
I sigh. I love my best friend more than anyone, but she really can be infuriating.
I finish my breakfast, brush my teeth, grab my bag and sunglasses and head for the pool.