Chapter Four
Morgan
The hotel exuded understated luxury, with gleaming marble flooring in the lobby along with brass and mahogany accents throughout.
I caught sight of a bar, and I could hear piano music drifting from the lounge, but Liam and I weren’t interested in another public setting.
With my hand in his, we headed straight to the check-in desk.
He surprised me by asking for the best suite they had. I didn’t argue. If he wanted to spend a fortune on a hotel room for just one night, who was I to stop him?
The room was on the top floor and certainly extravagant, with a massive king-sized bed and floor-to-ceiling windows that offered a breathtaking view of the city.
New York was truly amazing, I sometimes forgot how alluring it could be since I’d lived here my entire life.
But seeing it from this point of view, with tall buildings lit up against the night sky, I was awed by the splendor of it all.
Liam crossed to a small sitting area and picked up the laminated room service menu on a round table by the sofa and perused the offerings. “Ah, yes. This is perfect.”
He picked up the phone before I could ask what he was talking about and pressed a button.
“Do you still have room service available?” he asked the person on the other end of the line. “Great. Please send up a slice of cake.” He glanced back at me and asked, “Vanilla or chocolate?”
“I…umm, chocolate.”
He repeated my preference into the phone, then hung up.
I raised an eyebrow at him. “You ordered me cake?”
He shrugged. “I thought it was only fitting that I treat you to a slice for your birthday since I know how much you like it.” He grinned at me. “I pay attention, Morgan.”
Yes, he did. His thoughtful gesture, and remembering a casual comment I’d made at the bar, created another little flutter, spreading a pleasant warmth through me. It wasn’t just attraction, but something more…intimate. Definitely a moment of sincerity I hadn’t expected from a stranger.
I slowly crossed the room to him, brushing my fingers along the smooth fabric of his tuxedo jacket before sliding my hands beneath the lapels and splaying my palms on his firm chest. He was about a foot taller than me, so I had to tilt my head back to look up at him.
“You really didn’t have to do that,” I said, though I was pleased that he had.
“Maybe not,” he said in a low voice as his gaze dropped to my lips. “But I wanted to.”
The air shifted, and something electric pulsed between us now that we were completely alone. Emboldened by the desire already coursing through me, I pushed his jacket off his shoulders and down his arms, never breaking eye contact as it landed on the carpet behind him with a muted thud.
His hands found my hips like it was instinct, his grip steady, certain, and warm. Unlike the man at the bar earlier while I’d been dancing, this claim was welcome. Liam’s touch wasn’t rushed or rough, though it was deliberate, like the way a confident man touched something he already knew was his.
He pulled me closer, his thumbs tracing slow circles through the fabric of my dress. The soft friction sent a rush of heat straight through me, tightening my nipples against the lace lining of my bra. My breath caught as our hips aligned and the warmth of his body pressed against me.
This close, his scent was darker. Smoky with a hint of bourbon, and something faint and clean, like rain on wood. I tipped my head back to meet his gaze, transfixed by the quiet intensity in the way he looked at me.
“You clearly do pay attention,” I murmured, my voice barely above a whisper. “So what else have you noticed?”
A slow, seductive smile curved his lips. “That you’re pretending to be calm and composed right now.” His thumbs brushed higher along my waist. “And you’re going to fucking love it when I make you lose control.”
I laughed huskily as I slid my fingers up the front of his shirt, stopping just beneath the open collar. His pulse beat steady and strong, and I wanted to lean forward and run my tongue along the base of his neck just to taste his skin. “You’re awfully sure of yourself,” I said.
He smirked. “Oh, I’m definitely confident you’ll have an orgasm or two before I’m through with you.”
I couldn’t suppress a shiver at his promise, or at the way one of his hands slid around to my back, then lower, cupping my ass in his palm. He dipped his head slightly toward mine, and my lips instinctively parted for him while anticipation swirled in my belly.
Before our lips connected, a sharp knock sounded at the door, shattering the seductive moment. I dropped my forehead against his chest, unable to stop the low, involuntary groan that slipped out before I could catch it.
Liam sighed in resignation. “Room service here has impeccable timing,” he said in a dry tone.
He stepped back with obvious reluctance.
The loss of contact was disappointing, leaving a chill where his body had been just moments ago.
While he crossed the room I sat down on the couch.
He opened the door, exchanged a few polite words with the man on the other side, then returned with a covered dish.
He set the plate on the small table in front of the sofa, sat down beside me, then lifted the silver dome with a flourish, revealing a large, single slice of chocolate cake. The scent was rich, dark, and decadent.
“Your dessert, Birthday Girl,” he said with a grin.
I couldn’t help but smile right back. “You’re really going to make me eat cake before you kiss me?” I teased him.
His gaze dropped to my mouth, then slowly lifted back to my eyes. “Who said I couldn’t do both?”
He let that promise hang in the air between us as he picked up the fork, cut off a small section, and lifted it to my lips.
I let him feed me, and the first taste was an explosion of luscious flavor on my tongue.
I moaned, turning the sweet moment into a sensual one.
Liam’s eyes darkened with desire as he continued feeding me a few more bites, the air between us thickening with sexual tension.
“Good?” he asked, his voice lower now, a bit rougher.
I nodded, my tongue darting out to catch a smear of chocolate at the corner of my mouth, very aware of how his gaze tracked the movement. “Better than good.”
He looked pleased, like he’d gotten the exact reaction he wanted. “Then I think it’s my turn to taste.”
Instead of feeding himself a piece, he dragged his finger through the frosting and brought it to my bottom lip, spreading it slowly across.
My breath caught. “Liam—”
He didn’t let me finish. His mouth was on mine before I could process what was happening, his tongue sweeping across my lip to taste the chocolate, and me. His claim wasn’t gentle. Wasn’t tentative. It was deliberate and consuming, and it made my head spin.
I made a sound, something between a gasp and a moan, and felt him respond immediately. His hand slid into my hair, angling my head exactly where he wanted it, while his other hand moved from my knee up my thigh, his palm hot on my skin.
I parted my lips, giving him access, and he deepened the kiss with a low sound that vibrated through his chest. He tasted of chocolate and bourbon, and it was completely my undoing.
My fingers curled into the front of his shirt, needing something solid to hold onto as I pulled him even closer.
The city outside blurred to nothing, a smear of light beyond the windows, and suddenly there was only the press of Liam’s body and his dark, irresistible pull.
He didn’t rush. He kissed like a man who understood the value of control and how to wield it. Each slow drag of his mouth against mine, intentional. Every sweep of his tongue told me he wasn’t just chasing a reaction, he was learning all my subtle nuances.
That realization hit harder than it should have. He was a stranger. This was supposed to be simple pleasure, an escape, a night to remember. But there was something in the way Liam touched and kissed me that made it impossible to pretend it was something so casual. At least for me.
Focusing on the desire I couldn’t deny, I arched into him, my breasts brushing his chest, seeking more of everything with this man. His kiss deepened, the rhythm shifting from patience to hunger, and the low sound he made against my lips sent a shiver racing down my spine.
My trembling fingers fumbled over the buttons of his shirt, eager to touch him. I managed to free a few before my hands flattened against his warm, smooth skin, my palms gliding over his broad chest and tracing his sculpted abs.
For a man who kissed with control, he burned hot beneath the surface. And for a woman who came here wanting just a hot, memorable night, I feared I was already in much deeper than I’d ever intended.
When he finally pulled back, we were both breathing hard.
“Christ,” he muttered, his thumb brushing along my jaw. “I’ve been wanting to do that all night.”
“Then why did you stop?” I asked breathlessly.
“Because if I keep kissing you on this couch, I won’t be able to stop.” His hand slid higher on my thigh, his thumb grazing across the front panel of my damp panties. “And when I finally get you out of this dress, I want to take my time.”
Heat flooded through me, settling low in my belly. “Maybe I don’t want you to take your time.”
A slow smile curved his mouth. “Oh, you will.” He leaned in again, lips brushing across mine. “Trust me.”
If that was the case, then he was right. I didn’t want an uncomfortable couch for what he had in mind. I wanted that roomy, king-sized bed to spread out on.
I stood, reaching for his hand. “Come with me.”
He followed without hesitation, the air between us vibrating with everything unspoken as I led him toward the bed. I slipped the Birthday Girl sash over my head and tossed it aside. I stepped out of my heels, then turned around and looked at him over my shoulder.
“Would you mind?” I asked, referring to my zipper.