Twelve
“I chose this life. I know what I'm doing. And on any given day, I could stop doing it. Today, however, isn't that day. And tomorrow won't be either.”
~Batman
“What do you mean it hasn’t arrived?”
“Let me help, Elliot.” Nadia placed a calming hand on his arm and spoke softly to the concierge in Hungarian.
Great. This was just great. He had five days here and no one had a fucking clue where his belongings were.
The airport told him they’d deliver everything once it was located. Other than the items in his carry-on and the clothes on his back that reeked of a day’s worth of travel, he was screwed.
After speaking to the concierge she edged him away from the counter. “Elliot, there are shops. We can get you something to wear.”
He wanted his clothes. “I know that, but this is ridiculous. Five hundred dollars’ worth of luggage and God knows how much in clothing.” He wasn’t being cheap. It was the principle. “How do they just lose a person’s personal belongings?”
“It happens. Come on. Let’s put your carry-on in your room and we’ll visit some stores.”
He sighed, exhausted. It was still early, but he hadn’t slept the entire flight. “I think I need to rest.”
“Okay.” She led him to the elevator. “I’ve never been in this hotel before. It’s very luxurious.”
He’d booked the Four Seasons, unsure how much time he’d be passing in the hotel while she visited with family. Now, limited by his lack of wardrobe, he was grateful for the amenities.
The elevator dropped them off on the top floor. The tower suite was at the end of the hall, the most private room they offered. As he slid his key into the door, they were greeted by the scent of freshly pressed linens and soap. Nadia gasped as he flipped on the light.
The large king bed was dressed in ivory and draped in gauzy fabric that hung romantically from the ceiling. Overstuffed club chairs and ottomans faced the foot of the bed. Cozied between the two chairs was a small accent table with a bottle of champagne on ice.
“This is magnificent,” she said, awe coloring her expression.
She fell to the bed and the lush blankets rippled in her wake as she stretched and sighed. Shutting the double doors, he placed his lone bag on the chair and stared at her.
Catching him watching her, she smiled slowly. “You’re staring again, mister.”
He blinked but didn’t look away. “I can’t help it. You’re beautiful.”
Her eyes turned shy as her lashes fanned low. Rolling to her hip, she held out a hand. “Come here.”
Everything inside of him wanted to rush to her while his muscles locked up and held him in place. With halting steps, he approached the bed and placed his hand in hers. She tugged and he sat on the edge of the mattress.
No matter how much he tried to appear relaxed around her, he wasn’t. Crawling beside him, she crept to her knees and he drew in a breath as she slid her leg over his lap and straddled his thighs.
“Wh—what are you doing?”
“Are you always so tense?” Her warm breath fanned over his cheek and his body hardened. “Relax.” Her body lowered and he grunted, mortification choking him. There was no way she’d miss his raging hard-on sitting like that.
His hands hovered at her hips a moment and then touched down, catching her weight. “You should get back—”
“Hush. We have plenty of time.”
For what? Several seconds passed, rife with excruciating intimacy as she looked directly into his eyes. His heart hammered like a metal mallet in an empty room, echoing throughout his body.
“Nadia…”
“Elliot?”
“I don’t know what your intentions are, but—”
“My intention is to help you relax.”
She was doing the exact opposite.
Delicate fingers loosened his tie and she whispered, “This is a lot of hotel for one man. You might get lonely here all by yourself.”
You can keep me company. Fuck, he was hard. Did she not realize the effect she had on him? “I’ll manage.”
His conscience seemed trapped in a polarized battle with his libido. Everything inside of him itched to toss her to the bed and climb on top of her, kiss her, touch her… But that was insane. His pulse seemed to move south, throbbing hard along the length of his dick. This was not good.
Her dark gaze held his as she slid his tie out from under his collar and tossed it onto the floor.
His throat went dry as he swallowed. “Careful with that. It’s my only one.”
“Oh, no.” She pouted, mocking him. “What will you do without a pressed tie?”
His insides jerked, his defenses coming out of the lust induced coma and rising to like a shield. “You’re making fun of me.”
“Of course not.” Her hips shifted, pressing into him as her fingers tunneled through his hair, destroying his part. She grinned and nuzzled her nose against his. “Did you know this is how Eskimos kiss?”
Conversing soothed the irritating panic building inside of him, but the more she touched him the more challenging it became to maintain an outward calm.
His luggage had drifted to a secondhand thought, his sole focus now the beautiful woman on his lap.
If he didn’t focus on their dialogue he might do something too forward and she might never sit on him like this again.
He wanted her to sit on him like this every day for the rest of his life.
“It’s actually a greeting used by Inuit. Traditionally, it isn’t nose to nose, but nose and lips to cheek or brow.”
She cocked her head, her long hair tumbling down her arm. “Show me.”
“How the Inuit kiss?”
She nodded, her expression blank and her full lips tempting. Even nuzzling her was dangerous. She was too beautiful, too perfect.
“Do you not want to kiss me, Elliot?”
He wanted to kiss her and so much more. Drawing in a breath, he slowly leaned forward, his eyes watching hers as he pressed his nose to her cheek, lightly teasing his lips along her soft skin and breathing her in.
“They breathe their loved ones in,” he rasped, loving her intimate scent as he softly nuzzled her throat and shut his eyes.
She shifted her arms loosely around his neck, pressing her nose to his cheek and breathed deep. “I like the way you smell.”
Her mouth dragged over his jaw where his beard had grown in and she licked him, humming as her tongue slowly, sensuously scraped over the stubble. His body hardened, encroaching on a point of pain, and his fingers tightened on her hips. The effort it took to hold his control was agony.
“This is how Americans kiss,” she murmured, pressing her lush lips to his.
His eyes closed as his heart thundered, his jaw trembling as she gently teased his mouth.
“And this is how the French do it.” Tipping her head, she slid her tongue between his lips.
Breathing deep, he tightened his grip as her fingers massaged their way back to his hair. Her body slowly rocked over his, awakening every part of him as she deepened the kiss. Pleasure turned to pain as his desire rapidly grew.
Pulling back, he drew in an unsteady breath.
She smiled nervously. “You always pull away from me. Why?”
His heart was racing, his body hot and hard. “It’s too much. When I kiss you … I feel like everything…” Tightens. Throbs. Yearns. Hungers. “It hurts, in a way I can’t describe. I feel weak yet strong.”
Her hands brushed over his shoulders and down his chest, toying with the line of buttons on his shirt. “It doesn’t have to hurt, Elliot. It can feel very, very good.”
He shivered under her touch, waiting for her to stop, at the same time praying she wouldn’t. Swallowing tightly, his mind flashed with erotic images he’d seen in movies and on television, coming up short when he tried to picture himself doing some of those things to Nadia.
He wanted to. He just didn’t know how. “I don’t want to disappoint you.”
“You won’t.”
He’d never ogled magazines plastered with airbrushed women or chanced his computer’s safety by scoping out pornography on the Internet, but now he wished he had.
He had absolutely no finesse with women beyond knowing point A connected with point B.
His fascination with her breasts could occupy him for days, but what fascinated her? He couldn’t screw this up.
His hand lifted, hovering between them then dropped to the bed. Damn, this was frustrating. Glancing away, he muttered, “Tell me what to do.”
She eased back and studied him for a silent moment, pulling his attention back to her with a gentle touch to his jaw. “You want to do more?”
Nodding tightly, his finger teased under the hem of her shirt, barely touching the inside of the material. She said she liked a man who knew what he wanted. He definitely wanted her.
“Yes.”
Her hand covered his, her hold light. Easing back, she lifted his palm and set it over the swell of her breast. “You can touch me here.”
His heart beat erratically as he cupped her through the layers of clothing. His body swelled under her weight as blood pumped heavily through his veins. She was so warm.
She hummed softly as his thumb dragged slowly over her curves and her nipple beaded beneath his gentle touch. Swallowing, he rasped, “Can I see you?”
She reached for the hem of her shirt and lifted, exposing her trim, tan belly where a tiny jade stone flashed. She tossed it toward the pillows.
He sucked in a breath as her bra—black lace—filled his view.
She was the sexiest woman he’d ever seen, and she was here with him, sitting on top of him, as his girlfriend.
A shiver of excitement snaked through him, triggering things inside of him, and he quickly looked away, blanking his mind and silently begging for self-control.
Please no…
“Elliot? Is everything all right?”
He swallowed as he tried to focus on her question as well as not coming in his pants. “You’re very beautiful.”
She turned his jaw, drawing his gaze back to hers. “Then why don’t you look at me?”