Chapter 3
3
R AIN
I pick a table across from the bar––far from the live music––and occasionally, I glance outside.
The snow looks like glitter across the sidewalks, snow flurries swirling in the wind as thick fog cloaks the leafless trees.
The streetlights glow over the scenery.
“Your Marinated Heirloom Tomato Salad, Miss.”
I nod graciously as the server slides the plate onto the table.
“Anything else you’d like to order?”
“You can leave the menu on the table. I’m waiting for a friend,” I say, smiling confidently.
“Sure. No problem.”
The man walks away while I glance at the door as if I expect company.
It’s only theater, and no one cares.
People are busy with their food and drinks.
The atmosphere is warm and relaxed, with quiet dialogue and laughter wafting through the air.
Once I realize I’m pretending for nothing, I shift my focus to my plate and enjoy my dinner.
A few minutes pass.
“May I join you?” a voice tinged with a smile says politely, summoning my eyes up.
A tall, good-looking man, maybe in his thirties––possibly younger––locks my gaze.
We search each other’s eyes, a faint smile clinging to his lips.
He wears a dark, high-end suit, a button-down white shirt, and an elegant burgundy silk tie.
He holds a drink, the other nonchalantly tucked in his pocket while waiting for my answer.
He studies me with great interest.
Gingerly, I press the napkin against my lips, ensuring my lipstick remains intact while swallowing my last bite.
“Excuse me?”
“Seemingly, the person you are waiting for won’t make it tonight,” he says.
Tilting his head to the side, he flashes a flirting smile, hinting at me that he knows what’s going on.
He’s probably heard that line before from women like me.
“Are you a guest of the hotel?” he asks.
Holding his eyes, I slowly shake my head.
“Are you?” I ask.
A knowing grin stretches across his lips as if he had just solved a puzzle.
“Mm-hmm,” he murmurs, his smile reaching his blue eyes. “May I?” he asks, pointing at the seat in front of me.
“Sure.”
A moment later, he sits across from me, poised and elegant, comfortable in his skin, quite a match for the woman in the mirror back home.
He brings his glass to his lips and takes a sip while I scan his sculpted hands.
“I’ve never seen you here before,” he says, unbridled curiosity flooding his eyes.
“I can say the same thing about you,” I retort, poker-faced.
Amused, he chuckles, his azure eyes sparkling.
“Hmm... A great sense of humor. I relish that. It’s a rare quality in a beautiful woman,” he says, tossing me the compliment without much fuss, displaying solid confidence in his skill.
“What would you like to drink?” he asks, his eyes already on the sommelier.
“I don’t drink… Usually,” I murmur, blood rushing to my cheeks. “Not tonight,” I add as he cuts his eyes at me, telegraphing a questioning look.
He studies me for a second, but I talk first.
“No... You can’t ask that... It’s not polite,” I comment.
“I can’t ask what?” he asks, intrigued.
“How old I am.”
A slow, lopsided smile curls his lips as he ponders for a moment.
“I really like you,” he says before ordering another drink for himself.
My gaze sweeps his broad shoulders, masculine jaw, clean-shaven skin, and smooth hands that bear no rings or a wedding band.
The pleasant contrast between his white shirt and wine-colored tie catches my eye, the smooth fabric of his suit agreeing with his expensive watch.
All speak of good taste and zest for life. And taking genuine pleasure in living.
Watching someone like him for a change is a wonderful distraction, a delightful pause from the drudgery of everyday life.
“I like you too,” I say, my words free of inflections and emotions.
“So, if you’re not staying in this hotel, what brought you here tonight?” he asks, watching me from above the rim of his glass.
“You mean besides waiting for someone who’ll never show up?” I ask, tossing a flirty smile at him.
“Yeah, besides that...” he says, setting his drink on the table.
“Same as you. Curiosity.”
“Hmm... Interesting.”
He narrows his eyes at me, silently observing me, a faint smile curving his lips.
“I’m a writer, so I like to watch people,” I say in a serious voice this time.
“Seriously?”
“Yes.”
“Am I going to be in your next book?” he asks, his forget-me-not eyes twinkling between his dark lashes.
A sultry, lazy smile lines his lips.
Blood pools in parts of my body that have nothing to do with my cheeks.
“It’s not that kind of book,” I say boldly, holding his gaze, although a shiver sweeps my spine.
We share a stare for a few more moments before he peels his gaze away from me as if he’s found his answer.
“Is there anything else you’d like to order?” he asks.
“No.”
He motions to the waiter before rising to his feet, holding his hand out for me.
Looking at him, I follow his example, my hand connecting with his smoothly.
The server stops in front of us.
“Charge it to my account,” he says curtly.
The server nods in response.
“Yes, Sir.”
“Have a wonderful evening, Miss,” the man says politely, sliding my chair back in its place.
The stranger and I stop briefly to retrieve my coat before heading to a private elevator.
We ride up in silence, his hand holding mine as if we’ve planned this evening all along.
As if we’re sharing a life together outside this hotel.
The elevator pulls to a smooth stop before the doors slide open with a whisper. We enter his suite a few seconds later.
Gallantly, he helps me take off my coat and shrugs out of his suit jacket.
He walks to a small bar.
“Do you want something to drink?”
He glances at me over his shoulder.
“Seriously, now,” he murmurs.
I give him a small smile.
“No. Thank you.”
I strut to the large windows overlooking Manhattan, splay my fingers over the glass, and look down.
What a difference a few hours make.
A dark square of misery outlines the window where I sat a couple of hours ago, only a few blocks away.
The buildings with small apartments look almost identical.
They’re ugly, gray, and economical.
Crammed and utilitarian.
The perfect place to butcher dreams.
“What’s your name?” I ask without turning, his footsteps echoing behind me.
“David... David Moore.”
He rests his palm on the small of my back.
He has a soft, gentle touch.
“What about yours?” he asks.
I stay silent for a moment before I glance at him over my shoulder.
“You can call me Red,” I murmur.
A smile lights up his eyes.
“Red… Sounds good to me,” he says softly.
Smoothly, he wraps his arm around my waist, prompting me to turn to him.
A warm grin floods his eyes, setting off his handsome features.
I take the glass from his hand, place it on a side table, and run my fingers over his neckline, undoing his tie.
He observes me in silence, enjoying every moment.
Then I remove his tie and work on his buttons before sliding his shirt open and running my fingers across his hard chest.
Holding me against his body, he lowers his mouth to mine and claims my lips.
I kiss him back. Softly and teasingly. Capturing the aroma of cognac still lingering on his lips.
Without breaking the kiss, I pull his shirt from his pants and peel it off his shoulders.
He slides one hand to my backside, the other curling around my neck.
Hot between my legs, I stroke his pecs and kiss him harder, feeding my growing hunger.
He deepens the kiss, and my breaths roll faster, my body tensing as my center tingles.
Still locked with him, I unfasten his belt.
Swiftly, I run my fingers down, sweeping the ridge of his erection.
He stirs against my hand.
“You’re good,” he murmurs against my lips.
“I’ve learned from the best,” I say, giving him a smile while stroking him.
He pulls me into him impatiently, his rock-hard cock grinding against my body.
Our lips connect again, our tongues swirling and dancing, locked in a stroking feast.
Running his hand down my back, he pulls the zipper open and helps me shimmy out of my dress.
He takes me in with obvious satisfaction.
“Damn,” he murmurs, pleasantly surprised, taking inventory of my lace-encased breasts and the satin band barely covering my slit.
His hands go down, touching me with gentleness, spurring heat across my skin.
He removes my bra and tears off my panties, his gaze floating down, a raw need glinting in his eyes.
Hooking my fingers inside the waistband of his pants, I nudge him to the couch.
Distracted, he lowers himself on the sofa and takes off his pants, his eyes glued to my body.
My eyes stall on his erection before I give him a quick once-over.
He’s studying me, amused.
Smiling, I roll my lip beneath my teeth.
“I’ll suck your cock later… I just need to get on that thing right now,” I say bluntly, pointing to his groin.
Blood flushes his cheeks.
“Fine by me,” he says, ripping a plastic foil and rolling a condom down.
I set my knees on either side of him, straddling his lap.
Smoothly, I position him at my entrance and slide down his hard length.
His gaze stays on my face as heat breaks out across my skin.
I pull my eyes closed, indulging in that sensation.
“You’ve missed it…” he murmurs, a smile threading through his voice.
I flip my eyes open and nod.
“Come here...” he says, nudging me to lean on him.
I tilt forward.
Bracing my back with one arm, he palms my butt and guides my hips against his thrusts.
My eyes and voice quickly get heavy.
Arm fastened around my waist, he pulls me down as much as he slams into me.
“Fuck... You’re so fucking tight,” he says, his eyes losing focus, flushed with pleasure. “You feel good, Red.”
“You too, baby,” I say sincerely.
More blood pools on his face.
I roll my hips, feeding on the hunger flashing through his eyes before I tilt my head down, grab the back of his hair, and slip my tongue between his lips.
He holds me tight against his body, passionately claiming my mouth, and a shudder breaks through me.
The harder he kisses me, the harder I ride him, and the more aroused he becomes. I need him, and he needs me, and there’s no time to discuss anything else right now.
I break the kiss and pick up the pace.
Moaning and panting, I ride his cock, my gaze locked with his, rivulets of sweat trickling between my breasts.
“I’m fucking coming...” I say quietly, teetering on the cusp.
His fingers sink into my hips as I grind against his hardness, looking for relief.
Staring into his eyes, I experience a delicious orgasm.
My pulse racing. My heart pounding. My brain flooded with wild flashbacks of how this used to be.
It’s been too long.
And now this feels just right.
It’s bliss and relief.
A soft smile tugs at his lips.
He pushes to his feet as I slow down and wrap my legs around his waist.
A moment later, he walks with me and presses my back against the glass wall facing Manhattan.
My skin gets cold, and my chest tightens with apprehension.
Glancing over my shoulder, I notice the trees and the cars––and how small they look down in the street––and more panic runs through me.
He props me firmly against the glass, and I begin to quiver.
“Don’t be afraid. Nothing will happen. I promise you,” he says, burying me in his arms.
He crashes his lips against mine, and I respond, starved for his mouth.
Within moments, I’m warm again, my fear fading quickly.
“I told you,” he purrs against my lips before taking my mouth again.
He drives his hard cock into me as I clutch his neck.
“That’s good,” I breathe out while he hammers me, the back of my head tapping the window with every thrust.
He cuffs the back of my neck, flexes his arms around me, and crashes into me with force.
Throbbing tension rises sharply before breaking into a million bits of pleasure.
Growling quietly, I sink my nails into his chest.
A curse breaks away from his lips before he shudders too.