Chapter 7
Jordan
Natalie turns her head, eyes wide, lips parted, and the look on her face is enough to make me consider carrying her out of the restaurant over my shoulder.
I have enough restraint left to avoid it.
Barely.
“Lesson two,” she whispers.
“Yes.”
“Am I even remotely ready for this lesson?”
“No.”
Her throat moves. Her eyes drop to my mouth, then lower, to my hand under the table. She does not move away from me. She has not moved away once since I touched her in the booth, and that matters more than I want it to.
I slide my thumb once over the inside of her thigh. Her fingers tighten around her fork.
“Natalie.”
She looks up.
“Do you want me to end this and take you home?”
The question costs me more than it should. I want her in my bed. Under my hands. I want that black dress gone and her hair spread over white sheets while I find out every sound she makes when no one can hear but me.
Wanting a woman does not mean my restraint is gone.
Her brows knit. “Home?”
“Yes.”
“My apartment?”
“If that is what you want.”
Her lips part again, and for a moment she only stares at me. Then her eyes sharpen with something nervous and brave.
“What if I don’t?”
My cock hardens so fast I have to lock my jaw.
There she is, learning how to ask.
I lean closer, keeping my voice low. “Then tell me what you want.”
Pink climbs her throat. “I don’t know how to say it.”
“You start with the truth.”
Her fingers curl around the edge of the table, and she looks down for one second before forcing her gaze back to mine.
“I want to go with you. Wherever you want.”
The words come out quiet and shaky, but they are hers, and I take them like a gift I have no intention of giving back.
I signal the server for the check without taking my eyes off Natalie. “Good girl.”
She draws in a breath, and her thighs press together around my hand.
I feel it.
I let her see that I feel it.
The bill is paid in less than two minutes. I do not rush her out, though every part of me wants to. My hand stays at the small of her back as we leave the restaurant, and this time she leans into me before I ask.
Progress, and the dangerous kind.
The valet brings the car around. I open the passenger door for her, and she pauses before getting in, looking up at me with the kind of nervous courage that strips me down to the bone.
“Where are we going?”
“The Everpine.”
Her eyes widen. “The wedding hotel?”
“Yes.”
“But the rehearsal isn’t until Friday.”
“I booked the suite from tonight through Sunday.”
Her mouth opens, closes, then opens again. “It’s Wednesday.”
“I know.”
“What about work tomorrow?”
“I own the company.”
“That is a very annoying answer.”
“It is an accurate one.”
“What about clothes?”
“I’ll make a call.”
“My clothes?”
“Anything you need will be waiting.”
She stares at me like I am insane.
Maybe I am.
I have spent years keeping my life ordered. Then Natalie Mullen walked into my office and ruined my discipline.
Now I am taking her to a hotel two days early because she said she wanted to come with me. I would burn through a hell of a lot more than a workday for that.
She lowers her voice. “Are we still pretending?”
The question hits harder than it should.
I step closer, caging her between the open car door and my body without touching her.
“You can call it practice if that makes you feel better,” I say. “I haven’t pretended a damn thing.”
Her breath leaves her.
Then she gets in the car.
The drive to the Everpine takes fifty minutes.
I count every one.
Natalie sits beside me with her hands folded in her lap, too quiet for a woman who normally fills silence like it offends her. I let the quiet hold until she turns her face toward the window and whispers, “I’m nervous.”
“I know.”
She looks at me. “That is usually the part where people say not to be.”
“I’m not people.”
“No,” she says softly. “You really are not.”
I reach across the console and set my hand over hers. She turns her palm up and laces her fingers through mine, pulling another thread of control loose without even trying.
The Everpine is lit gold when we arrive, all stone, dark wood, and mountain wealth pretending to be rustic. The manager meets us before Natalie can start worrying about check-in. He gives me the key cards and tells me the wardrobe delivery is already in the suite.
Natalie’s head snaps toward me.
I look at the manager. “Thank you.”
He leaves.
She whispers, “Already?”
“I texted after you said yes.”
“When?”
“When you were looking out the window.”
“You are terrifying.”
“Yes.”
Her mouth trembles like she wants to smile, but the nerves are back. I take her hand and lead her to the private elevator.
The doors close, and the air changes.
She looks down at our joined hands, then up at me.
“I haven’t done this before.”
Everything in me goes still.
The elevator rises. My blood beats hard once, twice, then settles into something darker and more controlled.
I knew she was innocent. I knew from the way she reacted, from the way desire surprised her, from the way she looked at me like every touch was a door she had never opened.
Hearing it from her mouth is different.
I turn toward her fully. “Say exactly what you mean.”
Her cheeks go red, but she does not look away. “I’m a virgin.”
The admission changes the shape of the night. It puts something precious in my hands, and every rough part of me has to learn patience fast.
My grip on her hand tightens once before I ease it.
“All right.”
Her brows pull together. “That’s all?”
“That’s enough.”
“You don’t mind?”
I step closer. Her back brushes the elevator wall, and her fingers tighten around mine.
“I mind that you think I would.”
Her eyes soften.
Hell.
I touch her face, thumb sliding over her cheek. “Tonight only happens if you want it.”
“I want it.”
My control strains.
“Say it again.”
“I want you.”
The elevator doors open.
I lead her into the suite before I kiss her, because if I put my mouth on her in the hallway, we may never make it inside.
The presidential suite is quiet, the lights low, the mountains dark beyond the windows. Natalie barely has time to look around before I close the door and turn the lock.
The sound makes her shiver.
I see it.
I walk to her slowly. “Last chance to tell me to take you home.”
She shakes her head.
“Words.”
“I want to stay here with you.”
Good.
I take her mouth.
The kiss is slower than the ones in my office, deeper, built to take her nerves apart piece by piece. She leans into me with a soft sound, hands sliding up my chest, and I catch her waist before my control can turn greedy.
I undo the clasp at the back of her neck, the same one I fastened earlier. The dress loosens under my fingers.
Her breath breaks.
“You’re shaking.”
“I’m excited.”
I lower my mouth to her ear. “That is a prettier word for it.”
She laughs, breathless and small, and the sound cuts through me.
I pull the dress down slowly, watching her face for fear. I find nerves, heat, and a trust that makes my chest feel too tight.
The black fabric falls to the floor.
Natalie stands in front of me in delicate underwear, soft curves, flushed skin, and wide eyes.
“You’re gorgeous,” I say, voice rough. “Every inch of you.”
Her lips part.
“Jordan.”
“I mean it.” I trail my fingers over her waist, slow enough to make her tremble. “Soft here.” My hand moves to her hip. “Perfect here.” My thumb brushes the edge of her bra. “And all of it mine.”
Her breath catches.
I lift her and carry her to the bed. She gasps, arms locking around my neck.
“I can walk.”
“I know.”
My answer pleases her. I see it before she tries to hide it.
I set her down on the bed and strip off my jacket, then my tie. Her gaze follows every movement. When I open the buttons of my shirt, her breathing changes.
“Look all you want,” I say.
Her blush burns brighter. “I was briefly observing.”
“You can do more than observe.”
I take her hand and bring it to my bare chest. “Touch me.”
She does, softly at first, fingertips tracing muscle, scars, and ink. Then her palm flattens, and I feel her confidence grow by a fraction.
“Good,” I say.
Her thighs shift together.
I see that too.
I kneel on the bed and cover her body with mine, careful with my weight. She opens for me naturally, making room, and the first feel of her beneath me nearly ends every decent intention I have.
I kiss her mouth, her jaw, her throat. I taste the flutter of her pulse. My hand slides down her side, over her waist, to her hip, and she arches like she is learning her own body at the same time I am.
Nobody has touched her like this.
I will.
I reach behind her and unclasp her bra. She lifts enough for me to slide it away, and I take one full second to look at her.
Her arms twitch like she wants to cover herself.
“Don’t,” I say. “Let me see you.”
She freezes, cheeks burning, but her arms stay down.
I kiss my way down her chest and take one nipple into my mouth. She cries out, hands flying into my hair. I suck gently at first, then harder when her hips lift.
“That’s it,” I say against her skin. “Let me hear you.”
“Jordan.”
My name, wrecked already.
I move lower, down the soft curve of her stomach. Her body tightens when my fingers hook in her panties.
I look up. “Still want this?”
She nods quickly.
“Words.”
“Yes. Please.”
Please.
That damn word.
I slide her panties down her legs and spread her thighs with both hands.
She tries to close them.
I do not let her.
“Don’t hide from me. You’re beautiful.”
Her face burns. “I don’t know what I’m doing.”
“You don’t have to.” I kiss the inside of her knee, then higher. “That’s my job tonight.”
Her breath catches when my mouth touches her inner thigh. I take my time, kissing and biting gently, letting her get used to the heat of my mouth near the place I want most.
When I finally drag my tongue through her pussy, she jerks off the bed with a broken sound.
I hold her hips down.
“Jordan.”
“I’ve got you.”