Chapter 1 #2
Her fingers tapped at her glass for a moment, then I watched as one fingertip stroked along the stem. I swallowed a groan. No matter what Olivia hoped I might gain from an acquaintance with the woman at my side, this was probably nothing more than a friendly drink.
At just over six feet tall with a shaggy, russet kind of vibe—a full beard I kept trimmed short and curly auburn hair just a bit too long because I never had time for a haircut—I was what most women seemed to consider as a harmless big brother type.
Even at a convention full of nerds, it made sense for a woman alone to seek out a friendly presence rather than braving a bar full of annoying dude bros on the prowl.
I could do that. I could be a shelter for her, a shield while she celebrated her mysterious success and then went on her way.
In fact, I was so committed to not being a dick that when Eden’s hand settled on my knee, I almost choked on a sip of my drink. It wasn’t aggressive, not even suggestive, not yet—just warm and tentative.
“I’ve never done this before,” she said softly, “but Milo…I wondered if you might like to continue celebrating with me. In your room. Tonight.”
Shock zipped through me, followed by lust so potent I couldn’t breathe. For one brief, embarrassing second, I wondered if I was being pranked, but another flare of vulnerability appeared in her eyes as she waited for my response.
Maybe I should say no. Maybe it’d be better to enjoy the evening in the safety of this public space and then tuck her into a cab.
But if her vision of celebration could double as my consolation, was I really going to deny either of us?
“Yes, Eden,” I replied, my voice low. “I’d like that very much.”
The smile that split her face was radiant, but it was the way her fingers tensed on my knee that swept the breath straight out of my lungs. I set my hand over hers and she rotated her palm, twining her fingers with mine.
“Do you want to finish your drink?” she whispered.
“Not really,” I whispered back, grinning.
Eden released my hand for a moment to grab some bills from her purse and laid them on the bar, then she caught my fingers again and pulled me toward the lobby.
Thinking that maybe my luck had finally turned around, I followed her to the elevators. The doors closed behind us and her lips parted for one breathless second as we stared at one another, then she moved.
Straight into me.
I caught her at the waist just as her arms went around my neck, caught her mouth as it lifted to mine. She tasted like strawberries and champagne and all my darkest fantasies. With my fingers tangled in her thick locks, I kissed her until I forgot where we were.
The elevator dinged when we reached my floor, breaking through the haze. We stepped apart, those few inches clearing my brain just enough to realize we needed to move before the doors closed again, then I led her to my room.
We paused just inside the door when she tangled her fingers in my hair and dragged me down for another searing kiss. It consumed me like I wanted to consume her—every taste, every sound, every touch—then she took my hand and led me toward the bed.
“Eden,” I breathed against the soft skin of her throat. “You’re sure about this?”
“Yes.”
Her response was beautiful in its simplicity, forceful in the confidence behind the word, and I wanted to drop to my knees and thank my lucky stars for sending this siren into my path.
“I only have one condom,” I said, though I was more than willing to make it count.
“I have plenty,” she replied, scraping her nails gently up my ribs as she shoved my shirt upward until I yanked it over my head. “My cousin sneaks them into my purse every time I see her.”
“Tell her I said thank you.”
Her laugh turned into a gasp as I trailed my lips along the neckline of her dress, making my way around her body until I stood behind her. She sighed, swaying slightly, as I kissed the nape of her neck.
“You said you’d never done this before. You’re not a—”
“No. No, I meant propositioning a stranger,” she replied, tilting her head so I could run my lips up the side of her throat.
“Right.” Her pulse leapt under my caress, so I said, “It’s my first time doing something like this, too.”
I felt her muscles ease, just the faintest release of tension, and she turned her head to smile at me over one shoulder.
I’d never had a one-night stand, never slept with someone I hadn’t known for virtually my whole life—the wonders of living in a small town—and knowing that we were in this together emboldened me further.
“Now, Eden, I’d like to undress you.”
“About time,” she teased, but a blush crept along her cheekbone before she turned to face away again.
I lowered the zipper of her dress with excruciating slowness, dragging my knuckles along the ridges of her spine before pushing it off her shoulders to reveal a frilly pink petticoat and a black strapless corset thing.
The sight of them destroyed my commitment to drawing this out until she was ready to combust.
“Holy shit,” I breathed. “What is this called?”
“A bustier?”
“Bustier,” I repeated, committing it to memory—both the word and the sight.
“You like it?” she asked.
“It’s going to haunt my fantasies for the rest of my life.”
Her hazel eyes danced at my awestruck reaction when she turned around and shoved the fluffy petticoat down over her hips, revealing black satin panties that matched the top.
I coasted my hands over the sleek fabric, teasing her nipples through the layers until she gasped, then she spun around again.
“There’s another zipper.”
This time, my patience was shot. I slid it quickly down and peeled back the sides of the garment, letting it fall to the floor as I stepped up behind her and let my hands wander across her bare skin until she turned to unzip my jeans and shoved them down.
With each article of clothing we shed, I forgot more and more about the disappointing text from my landlord.
Christ, she was a gift.
“Please, Milo.”
“Please what?” I asked, experimenting with varying pressure on her nipples, listening for the hitch in her breath as she arched into my touch.
“Take me to bed.”
We were only a few feet from it, but I swept her into my arms and laid her against the pillows. She reached up to unclip the daisy from her hair, tossing it to the pile of clothes on the floor.
I explored her tattoos, both the flowers along her collarbone and a shooting star on one side of her ribs, tucked right under the curve of her breast. She trailed her fingertips over my beard, murmuring her approval of its softness, then through the hair on my chest and over the stomach that would never house a six-pack.
Given the way she dragged her nails over the skin there, the way she purred deep in her throat as her hand moved lower, Eden didn’t seem to mind.
We spent what felt like years exploring each other. Decades, centuries, I had no way of knowing how much time passed as I teased her, tasted her, sought out every hot spot of pleasure she possessed until she begged me to fuck her.
As if I had the ability to refuse.
When I finally sank into her, one word reverberated inside my head like the strike of a gong.
Paradise.
Each gasp, each moan, each purr from her throat echoed around us like music. She was lush and round, soft as silk under my hands and lips. That vulnerability from earlier didn’t convert to shyness—she knew what she wanted and didn’t hesitate to ask for it.
And that chemistry between us led to the most intense orgasms I’d ever had.
As though the hotel room surrounded us in a bubble, separate from the outside world, we didn’t talk about anything personal between rounds. No last names, no hometowns, no careers. It was like a dream, a fantasy where nothing existed outside of touch and taste and overwhelming sensation.
Eventually, after we used up the row of condoms she had in her purse, she fell asleep sprawled across my chest. I drew mindless shapes over her hip, nuzzling the wild mess of curls haloing her face, until I drifted off, too.
After the best night of my life, I opened my eyes to glaring sunlight that highlighted the generic decor of my hotel room. The only proof it wasn’t a dream were my clothes scattered across the floor, and there, tangled with my crumpled tee, a bright pink daisy.
This time, I was the one left utterly alone.