Chapter 9
I FOUGHT THE URGE TO pace back and forth in the hotel room. I’d done every bit of shower, shaving, and primping I could think to do. Unless I intended to leave the door unlocked and get started without him—an option I’d spent a fair bit of time considering—there wasn’t anything left to do but wait.
When I came up with the idea for the hotel, I’d been feeling kind of badass.
If Ford insisted on doing our cooking thing at my place, I could insist on sex offsite.
I sent him a text with a time, day, and the number of the hotel room I’d booked, and laughed when he sent a purple horny devil emoji in reply.
The breath might have caught in my throat a bit when he messaged that he couldn’t wait to lick me off his fingers the way I had the powdered sugar from the beignets, but I still felt mostly in control.
He owned the food; I owned the fuck. At least that had been the plan before the waiting started.
I wasn’t worried about him showing up. I knew he’d come. Honestly, I couldn’t say why I was nervous—just that I was.
I made one more pass in front of the bathroom mirror to make sure my makeup looked the way it had the other four times I’d checked.
I’d debated lingerie, but in the end opted for a skirt and silk blouse suitable for work.
Or it would have been, if the black lace bra I wore underneath wasn’t visible.
Maybe I should take the blouse and skirt off and meet him at the door in nothing but my heels.
There was no way on God’s great green earth I was getting rid of them a second before I needed to.
I toyed with the top button, running through my options, and jumped at the knock on the door.
I managed the presence of mind to peer through the peephole to see Ford standing on the other side.
He wore those great slacks, the ones that sat low on his hips, and a crisp dress shirt in pearl gray with the cuffs rolled to reveal strong forearms. He had one hand tucked in his pocket and the other in front of him, raised as if he were prepared to knock again if I didn’t hurry up and answer.
Everything about him projected confidence.
The kind of confidence I needed to feel if this afternoon was going to go the way I intended.
I’d picked a time in the middle of the afternoon for two reasons.
I didn’t want Ford to have to take time off work for this and this time came with its own natural limits—both his and mine.
I’d been careful to schedule a six o’clock dinner meeting with a new client, limiting the amount of time we had to fuck and the possibility of an awkward spend-the-night conversation.
None of which mattered if I didn’t let him inside.
I steeled my nerves, opened the door, and was rewarded with Ford’s smile at seeing me.
I had a fraction of a second to feel the warmth spread through me before he stepped into the room and pulled me into his arms. Needing a moment to reconcile my plan for the afternoon with the reality of Ford holding me, I pressed my face to the warm skin at the base of his throat.
I inhaled, breathing in the scent of him—something spicy with overtones like good tea, too rich to just be soap. And delicious.
I kissed the triangle of skin bared by his open collar and traced a path over his pulse point with my tongue.
His heartbeat jumped, and my lips curved against his skin.
He was as affected by this thing as me. I could do this.
Armed with a newfound and unearned confidence, I tipped my face up for his kiss, losing the last of my breath as his lips met mine.
This man intoxicated me, the effect stronger than any cocktail he’d made me.
I had to get a grip—fast—or I was going to go tumbling over a cliff I’d never navigated.
“Clothes off.” I slid some prosecuting attorney into my command and watched his eyebrow quirk in response. “You handled the cooking lesson. The fucking is mine.”
I tipped my head to the side, daring him to contradict me. Instead, he grinned and reached for the buttons on his shirt.
I could do this. I could totally do this.
When I’d come up with my Charlotte-owns-the-fuck plan, I might not have taken into account the full impact of Ford in the actual flesh, but there was no backing down now.
I bit my bottom lip and crossed my arms, pushing my breasts together while I watched Ford slip the polished cotton from his shoulders.
His gaze met mine and I heard him exhale in a way that made it clear he was working as hard as me to maintain control. I had plans to make sure he failed.
He stripped off his shirt, giving me an unobstructed view of his chest—strong, tan, with a light dusting of hair—and I made an appreciative noise deep in my throat.
I didn’t think I’d ever get tired of looking at him, and my plan for the afternoon gave me plenty of time to do just that.
He took in a deep breath, expanding his chest in a way that might have been distracting if he hadn’t already been reaching for the buckle of his belt.
He slid the dark leather free from the waistband of his slacks with a snap that made me swallow. Hard.
In moments, he’d shed his pants and shoes, pausing just long enough to catch my gaze before sliding off his boxer briefs, baring himself completely. He stood in all his naked glory, his thick cock already hard enough to make me clench my hands to keep from reaching for him.
Fuck me.
“Now what, cher?” He watched me like a man completely comfortable in his own skin. Which, all things considered, he had every reason to be.
I let my gaze wander appreciatively over every inch of his gorgeous body, counting my inhale to regain control before the next bit of what I’d planned.
“On the bed, cher.” I mimicked his endearment but smiled so he’d know I meant it affectionately. “Lay down, head on the pillow, hands on the headboard. And don’t move them, no matter what.”
“Whatever you want.” He arched an eyebrow at me but didn’t waste any time, stretching out on the bed and positioning himself the way I’d instructed.
I reached for the buttons on my blouse, loving the way his expression focused more intensely on me with each button I slipped free of the silk.
I made quick work of sliding the blouse off my shoulders, dropping it on the chair beside the bed.
I’d debated how much clothing to remove before I joined him, but watching the way his gaze followed my movements made the decision for me.
I reached behind me, putting a little extra arch into my back, showcasing my black lace-clad breasts in a way I hoped was as distracting for him as seeing him strip had been for me.
Unfastening the catch on my skirt, I slid the zipper down and pushed the fabric over my hips, letting it pool at my feet.
I shifted my body sideways before bending to pick up the garment and was rewarded with Ford’s audible breath.
Good. We were in this together, and we were going to stay in this together until I took him over the edge.
I paused for a moment, considering, before reaching around to unfasten the catch on my bra.
Shimmying out of the lace, I stood in front of him wearing nothing but my panties and heels.
He raised his head to look at me, and I saw the moment he considered letting go of the headboard. And the moment he reconsidered.
I tugged my bottom lip between my teeth, my gaze locked on his. My breasts felt tight, heavy, nipples pebbled in the cool air of the hotel room. I didn’t think I’d feel right again—whole—until I got Ford’s hands on my skin, and I’d told him he wasn’t allowed to touch me. Stellar planning.
It was okay; I had goals. My pleasure was one of them; making him lose himself in his was the more important.
Loathe to step out of my heels a moment before I needed to, I hooked my thumbs in my panties and slid them down over my hips, kicking the damp scrap of lace out of the way.
I’d been wet since before Ford arrived. Having him stretched out naked and oh so ready dialed up the volume on my arousal to dangerous levels.
Staying in control was more important now than ever. He’d been the master when we cooked together, setting the stage and giving me an experience I hadn’t expected. I wanted to give him back some of that.
“My God, you’re beautiful.”
The honest appreciation in his voice stopped me.
I’d started with the same insecurities most women did, but somewhere along the way, I figured most men didn’t care about the things we obsessed over, if they even noticed.
It made it a lot easier to get comfortable with my body.
Something about the way Ford said the words flipped everything upside down.
Knowing he found me beautiful should have made me feel more confident, but the raw edge to his voice had just the opposite effect.
There was no artifice. I didn’t get the sense he was angling for something.
He was telling me his truth, and it made me vulnerable in a way I hadn’t felt before.
“Thank you.” I squeezed the words passed my suddenly tight throat and took a few steps closer to the bed.
The best way to get over my nerves was to get on with things.
I stepped out of my heels, missing the extra inches immediately.
Crawling up his body, I let my hair trail over his thighs, stopping to bite gently above the crease at his hip.
His hard cock brushed my cheek, bobbing slightly at the touch.
I nuzzled the dark patch of hair at the base, exhaling against his skin without letting my mouth touch him, and felt his stomach tighten.
The urge to run my lips up his shaft and take him into my mouth was intense, but I forced myself to ignore it, kissing my way up his chest. His chest expanded as he breathed in, fighting for control.