CHAPTER 7 Millie Monroe
Do You Want to Chance It
Oh my God, Archer Bradley just kissed me.
And it wasn’t just a kiss, it was the kiss.
The one every kiss going forward will be compared to.
One for the books. It was passionate and sexy as he pushed me up against that wall, like he couldn’t wait to get me down the hall to his room to kiss me there, like it had to be right here.
I’ve never been kissed like that. Not ever.
I’ve been around the block a time or two, but Archer Bradley is something special. Maybe it’s because he’s a celebrity. An athlete. One of the rich and famous, an elite star in his field. He’s the champagne. I’m the beer.
When his question came, it felt like it was from so far out of left field that I couldn’t seem to pull together my thoughts to tell him that I haven’t been with anybody in months.
I’ve never been in a serious relationship.
My longest boyfriend was Jake, the guy I dated my senior year of high school. I didn’t have sex with him.
I didn’t lose my virginity until I was a sophomore in college. I was twenty, he was twenty-two—a senior. We went out on a few dates, and he was nice enough. We slept together a few times, and we ended it when he graduated from college and decided to take a job offer in California.
The only other guy I slept with, and this is beyond embarrassing, is a guy I worked with at Renegade’s for a while. His name was Kenny, and he bartended only on weekends to put himself through college.
We worked a late shift one night and ended up fooling around in Chip’s office. The next time we were on the schedule together, we had sex in the back of Kenny’s truck.
It happened once.
He quit Renegade’s the next day. Apparently he had a girlfriend, and I had no clue.
So I haven’t exactly been met with a whole lot of good luck when it comes to these things.
I’ve never knowingly done the one-night stand thing, but it’s starting to look like tonight is my night.
I want it to be. Maybe I’ll even bring it up on my blog—not the who, necessarily, but if I’m supposed to talk about every aspect of this resort, it wouldn’t hurt to mention that the rich and famous stay here, too.
He already told me he was single. Hopefully that wasn’t a lie. I never really thought to ask about that in my pre-Kenny days.
I wonder how long it’s been for Archer. How many women he’s been with. Probably a lot.
Compared to him, the guys I’ve been with before him feel like blips on the radar. Like they were mere boys, but he’s a man. All man. Damn, though, that boner on my hip. He’s a lot of man.
He knows what he’s doing when he kisses, so I already know that the next part is going to be spec-fucking-tacular.
He taps his keycard to the door, and a green light flashes. He opens it and steps in first, and I follow behind him, a little in awe of what I’m seeing here.
Damn. I thought my suite was nice. It looks like a budget motel compared to this masterpiece of a suite.
The first room we walk into is styled as a living room with floor-to-ceiling windows.
A large, white sectional couch is situated in the middle of the room, pointed at a television sitting on a console with more windows behind it.
There’s a table with six chairs around it behind the couch, and beyond that, a door leading to a balcony that appears to run the length of the bedroom as well.
Near the couch are gorgeous end tables holding lamps and décor along with a coffee table where a basket and several magazines sit.
One side of the couch is a lounger that runs along the wall of windows, and I can only imagine lying there looking out at the view.
You know, naked. With Archer slowly sinking into me from behind.
My stomach clenches at the thought.
There’s a door that leads to the bedroom, and I assume a bathroom is in that direction as well.
“Here’s home for the next, uh…little while,” he says, and I can’t help but wonder how long he’s staying here and whether there’s a chance this will go beyond just tonight.
I won’t get my hopes up. I know what this is and why I’m here.
The chances of actually talking to him again after tonight are slim to none.
He’ll find someone different to warm his bed every night he’s here, surely.
Those calves are practically invitations in themselves to get up to his room and get naked.
My eyes flick down to them. “Has anyone ever told you that you have nice calves?”
He chuckles. “I can’t say they have.”
“Well, you do.”
“Thanks. You have nice tits.”
I raise a brow. “If you think they look good, you should see what they taste like.”
He shakes his head a little. “How did I get so lucky?”
I twist my lips a little into a crooked smirk, tilting my head for a second before I say, “Because of my own shit luck that every table was taken.”
He laughs, and he moves toward me and hooks his arm around my waist to haul me closer to him. I set my hands on his chest as I peek up at him. He’s tall. I’m around five feet, four inches tall. He’s got close to a foot on me. Six-three or four, maybe. It’s hot as fuck.
Our eyes connect for a few heated seconds. I revel in this feeling, this sort of bliss in the anticipation of what’s to come here between us in the next few minutes.
He bends down toward me again, but his lips don’t brush mine sweetly at first this time.
Instead, his lips capture mine and hold me captive.
It’s deep and intense straight away this time, as if we’re continuing the intensity from where we left off out in the hall.
I wonder if we do get to experience this again whether it’ll be this intense every time.
I may never know.
I’ll probably never know. It’s not even worth thinking about.
Instead, I bury myself in the moment. I memorize every stroke of his tongue against mine. When he pulls from my mouth to trail his lips down my neck, I breathe him in, the scent both fresh and rugged at the same time, like soap and mint and whiskey all at once. It’s masculine and sexy.
His lips move back to mine, and I tangle my fingers in that light brown hair I’ve been studying all night.
The strands are soft between my fingertips, and he tightens his hold on me as he slips his fingertips beneath my shirt, his big hand warm and rough from batting, fielding, and throwing as it moves along the smooth skin of my back.
He groans as he pushes his hips toward me, and he pulls back from our kiss so he can rasp in my ear, “You feel so good.” His other hand moves under my shirt, too, as he takes my earlobe between his lips and sucks there while I shiver under him.
“Mm,” I moan, my hips swaying, rubbing against the front of his shorts as I reach under his shirt, too. His skin is warm and tight, and my fingertips trace the strong muscles beneath the surface.
His mouth moves back to mine, and he’s taking his time, kissing me slowly, deeply. Connecting with me when this was never meant for connection.
I guess nobody said we can’t exchange numbers when it’s all over, but I’m still trying hard to keep my expectations based in reality. It’s quite the feat considering all of this feels like a dream.
He pulls back from me, and he looks as desperate as I feel.
“I didn’t bring condoms,” he confesses, and shit, neither did I.
I didn’t come here expecting a hookup, especially not on night one.
“I didn’t either.” I clear my throat as I back up out of his arms. “Are you, um…you know…” I nod awkwardly toward his cock.
“Yes. I am. I get regular checkups, but I don’t sleep around.”
“Okay,” I say, feeling a pulse of relief at that, though I’m not sure why. “I don’t, either.”
“Are you on the pill?” he asks.
I shake my head, and he seems a little relieved by that. “No, but I should be fine based on where I am in my cycle.”
“Do you want to chance it?” he asks.
“I want you to fuck me until I’m screaming your name, if that’s what you’re asking.”
His eyes darken at my words, and then a lightbulb seems to go off over his head. “Wait, I know where I might be able to get one.” He fishes his phone out of his jeans, and he walks over to the table. He picks up a card and taps something out on his phone.
“Where?” I ask.
“Why don’t you get naked and let me handle it?” he suggests, and I can’t help but laugh. I wait until he appears to have finished typing his response before I speak.
“I’d rather not be naked if someone’s going to show up at the door.”
“Oh, right. Okay, well, then we’ll wait.
” His eyes are hot on me as he walks back over toward me and takes me in his arms. He stares down at me as if he’s having trouble coming to terms with whether or not this is real, and I can definitely relate.
He lowers his head and presses his lips to mine, and we’re interrupted a moment later by a knock at the door.
“That was fast,” I say as he reluctantly pulls out of my arms to answer the door.
“Perks of floor twenty-six,” he says with a wink, and then he turns and opens the door.
A man stands there with a basket. “Good evening, sir,” he says, and he’s doing his best not to peek into the room at me.
I could’ve probably been sprawled out naked, and this dude is so well trained to be discreet that he wouldn’t have even looked.
“I’ve prepared a wide selection of options along with additional personal items if you’d like to choose which—”
“Thanks, Clive. This is perfect,” Archer interrupts, and he grabs the entire basket and closes the door, flipping the deadbolt and the swing lock for good measure to prove it’s fine for me to go ahead and strip naked now.
This guy cracks me up. He carries the basket over to me, and it’s definitely packed full of…well, personal items.