Three
CLARA
I already knew my answer was yes.
Whatever this man wanted to do with me, the answer was yes. I’d go rob a bodega right now if he asked me. His ice-blue eyes made sure of that. I’d never seen a sexier, more intense gaze. If I looked at him too long, I felt hypnotized.
And maybe tonight I’d also get dickmatized.
Nash didn’t break eye contact as he reached into the front of his suit coat. He pulled out a golden keycard, which sparkled slightly in the moody lighting.
“Do you know where this key leads to?” he asked.
I thought he was being cheeky, so I scoffed. “I’m hoping room 3903.”
“It’s not just that.” He set the key on the bar, sliding it my way. “It’s the penthouse of the hotel. It can be all yours, if you want to go wallow. Or I can join you, if you want a distraction.”
Excitement blossomed in my chest. Of course I wanted the distraction.
I wanted Nash to distract me in every way possible.
Because I was sad. More than that, I was curious about him.
I could postpone wallowing for a little longer.
Knowing that he lived in the city was even better because that meant I might see him again—except, wait.
I was supposed to be an out-of-towner. Remember the story, Clara! I was Scarlett, transient CEO.
“What an interesting proposal,” I murmured.
“A penthouse proposal.” He winked.
“I’d love to go up.” I picked up the glittering keycard, turning it over in my hand. “With you.”
He jerked his chin into a nod, squeezing my hand softly before swinging his attention to the bartender.
He closed out with Seth, covering my tab too, of course.
I tried to hide my relief as I glanced at the bill.
A true CEO wouldn’t have minded that number but holy shit I wasn’t used to dropping coin like that on a night out.
Think like a CEO. Come on.
It was getting harder to remember who I was supposed to be.
Nash had me opening up, sharing parts of myself.
I wanted to bare my soul to him, or at the very least my ass.
He slid the receipt to Seth, then offered me his arm.
He towered above me; he had to be at least six three.
Standing beside me, he seemed so much more intimidating than when we’d been on adjacent bar stools.
“Ready?”
My heart pounded as I walked alongside him. Once we left the sultry cocoon of the restaurant, the bright lighting of the hallway felt like a harsh slap of reality. Maybe he’d have second thoughts, spot my wrinkled pants and no-brand blouse, and see right through my facade.
Nash seemed unfazed, purposefully walking toward the elevators. He unlaced his arm from mine, instead pressing a hand to my lower back as he leaned down to whisper in my ear.
“You’re even more beautiful in the light.”
I bit back a smile. “You’re taller than I realized.” And a lot more gorgeous, but CEOs were used to gorgeous men, I reasoned.
His lips curled into a grin as he stopped at the farthest elevator in the row. He prompted me to swipe the penthouse card, and the doors immediately opened.
“Oh wow,” I blurted.
He gestured for me to enter first, and I stepped into the mirrored elevator, my gaze bouncing off our multiple reflections.
“Just for us?” I tried to keep the excitement out of my voice.
“It goes straight to the penthouse.” His gaze locked with mine, a brow tilting. Which reminded me that a true CEO would have more experience with penthouses. With private elevators. With all of this.
“Of course.” I let out a cool laugh. “I’d expect nothing less.”
Hopefully, he wouldn’t realize that under my blouse, I was just three poor public university students in a trench coat.
I stifled a laugh—my thoughts got silly when I was drunk—and leaned against the wall, doing my best to look alluring and not-pitiful.
On the day that a boyfriend breaks up with you, it was important to not look pitiful.
The elevator began soaring upward at the same time Nash stepped closer to me. Electricity crackled in the air; his icy blue gaze settled on me.
“Scarlett. Can I finally kiss you?”
My answer was somewhere between fuck yes and can we get married? The martinis had done their job tonight, and part of that job was giving me the resolve to grab Nash by the front of his shirt and tug him closer to me.
His palms caught his weight on either side of me, pressed against the mirrored wall.
Nash’s lips, full of heat and curiosity, landed softly against mine.
A moan bubbled inside me at the first touch of the velvety kiss.
His big hand found the curve of my neck as we kissed, pushing up to the base of my skull.
Goosebumps flared along my forearms, up the tops of my thighs.
As we sped into the second and third kiss, I knew I needed so much more from this man.
The elevator glided to a stop, but we barely noticed.
When the doors slid open, Nash glanced back, then he dove back in, and we kissed some more.
His tongue pressed past my lips, searching, unlocking the next level of heat and passion.
I let the moan float out of me, pushing my hands into the heat of Nash’s body.
My fingertips tripped over the taut muscles hiding beneath his perfectly pressed suit.
Nash tugged on my hair, causing my neck to tilt.
His kisses skated over the exposed skin there, ending with a soft bite.
“Inside.” His nostrils flared as his gaze fell to my lips. “I’ll make sure you forget that other guy’s name.”
Heat pooled in my core. Had I ever heard anything hotter than that? I wouldn’t have been able to produce my ex-boyfriend’s name in that moment. Nash’s mission: accomplished.
He disentangled himself from me and led the way into the penthouse.
My gaze bounced off sleek angles, marbled backsplashes, gold-accented everything.
The penthouse was large enough for several families to live comfortably, and we hadn’t even seen the bedrooms. Amber lighting flickered to life, seemingly on its own.
We went straight to the living room, which featured a breathtaking view of the night skyline.
I picked out the Chrysler Building and Rockefeller Center while he shrugged off his coat, draping it neatly over the back of an overstuffed armchair.
“This is wonderful.” And then, because I remembered who I was supposed to be, “Almost as nice as my penthouse.”
My roommate at our shared shoebox in Brooklyn would have been laughing if she could hear me.
“Can I get you anything?” he offered.
Think like a CEO. I swept a calculating look across the living area.
I wanted it to seem like I was really analyzing it.
Did this meet my standards? Fuck yes it did.
But maybe I didn’t want Nash to know that.
There were a few things I didn’t want Nash to know, and all of them centered around the fact that I was a lower-middle-class nobody clawing for recognition at a city job.
My salary had a cap; this evening didn’t need to.
“You could get on your knees and eat my pussy.” The words flew out of my mouth so fast even I hadn’t realized they were coming. I swallowed a squeak—that was so not like me—and tried to pretend I was the type of woman who would say something like that.
Nash’s expression went from soft and hospitable to dark and feral. I could see his pupils dilate on the spot, and hell if that didn’t make me fall a little bit more in love with him.
“Scarlett, you are the woman of my dreams.” He erased the distance between us in two powerful strides, scooping me against him for a hungry kiss. Without breaking the seal, he hoisted me into his arms, carrying me deeper into the living room.
I giggled, swatting at him, even though I wanted more, more, more of this.
I’d never had such a fun and spontaneous night with Preston.
Nash set me down on a long, curving couch, more of an art piece than a relaxing place to watch TV.
An appreciative grunt escaped him as I fell back onto it.
He worked on popping off my gold heels, undoing my belt, unbuttoning my pants, peeling everything off me and tossing it aside.
His gaze roamed my bare legs, my extremely basic black panties, my olive green blouse.
“What do you like best?” He pressed a kiss lazily to the inside of my knee, his blue gaze pinning me to my spot. “Soft? Hard? Nipple play? Tell me.”
I didn’t know how to answer. No man had ever asked me that before.
“Don’t be shy,” he prompted.
“Tongue?”
He laughed. “Yeah, I was planning on that.”
“Why are you so hot?”
Nash dared to bat his eyelashes at me. “I should ask you the same thing. Give me this pretty pussy. I’m hungry.”
He jerked me by the hips, pulling me closer to the edge of the couch.
He propped my legs up on his shoulders, looking far more enthused about the space between my legs than I’d ever seen any man.
It was almost unsettling—we barely knew each other, how could this be real, did he actually enjoying eating women out like this?
But my thoughts melted away as soon as he pushed my panties to the side and those velvety kisses found my core.
Clara Whitehall wasn’t a woman who’d spread her legs like this for a stranger, but Scarlett sure fucking was.
Nash scooped my asscheeks into his big, strong hands.
His tongue flattened my clit, his feral gaze steady on me as he licked and sucked and spat.
Low growls of pleasure drifted out of him as he assaulted my clit.
I wanted to watch every second of this display, but the pleasure was too good.
Too liquid. Too hot. My eyes fluttered shut and I melted into the expensive couch.
My thighs clamped around his head as he slid one finger inside me, then another.
He pulled back, looking up at me with shiny lips.
“You know how fucking good you taste?”
“Must have been all the martinis.”
He dipped down, dragging his teeth across my clit. I squeaked, bucking my hips toward him. Fuck, I was so close. My chest heaved as he sat back on his heels, looking me over.
I’d never felt so sexy as I did in this moment. Only because of what I saw reflected in his eyes.
“All right, Star.” He already had a nickname for me. Warmth spread through my chest.
“Star?”
“Yeah. Short for Scarlett. And because you burn as bright as a star when you’re spread out like this.” He palmed the enormous ridge in his black pants, wetting his bottom lip. “Now what do you think, Star? You ready for this cock?”