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Actually, I haven’t. I’m usually the one who calls the shots and waits for men to show up, not the other way around. That must be why I’m so nervous. I hate not being in control. It feels like everything in me is unraveling and spiraling out.
I take a deep breath. In. Get him out of your system. Out. Stop obsessing.
I stand at the door and hesitate again.
This is such a bad idea.
My fist rises of its own accord and knocks on the door with a confidence I don’t feel.
“It’s open,” I hear a voice call out from the small square vent near the door. A female voice.
What the hell? I look up to check the room number again — 1320.
“I’m looking for Ryan,” I answer, feeling all kinds of stupid.
Maybe I got the room number wrong? I’m about to reach for my phone to call Ryan when the guy’s baritone comes through.
“Come on in, Stella.”
I freeze. He’s in there.
Dear God. That woman in there had better be Room Service.
Did I interrupt something? He told me one hour. Did that mean he had someone else scheduled before me?
Is he just finishing up with her?
Oh hell no. What sort of things is this guy into? Steeple chases?
Suddenly, I want to run.
But I’m too curious at this point not to depress the handle, push the door open and step inside.
It’s a luxurious hotel room, as I’ve come to expect of any piece of real estate belonging to Xavier, my friend’s husband.
As my eyes adjust to the darkness, I see that the room’s thick curtains are drawn, and it is furnished in deep rich browns and velvets. Dimmed golden lights peek from recesses in the walls and ceilings. A huge four poster bed that screams of decadence dominates the center.
I take my time looking around, because it’s easier than dealing with the scene playing out before me.
There’s a dark-haired woman kneeling on the floor with her head bowed. She’s naked.
My gaze finally comes to rest on Ryan. He’s sprawled over the plush chaise by the wall, his shirt fully open to reveal tanned skin and abs I might be tempted to go over and run my hands all over if I wasn’t so shocked.
He’s on the phone, speaking in low tones, and appears to be giving the person on the line some stern instructions. A glass of dark liquid hangs carelessly in his other hand.
I notice how the bulge in his pants grow the more I stare, until it tents his pants obscenely.
Oh dear. He likes this. He’s into threesomes. Fucking kinky bastard.
I’m not a blushing virgin, but I prefer my men one at a time, thank you very much. I want all of my partner’s attention focused on pleasuring me, and only me.
I take another discreet glance around. Could there be even more women or men lurking around? Any more surprises here today?
I finally glance at the woman on the floor and then back to Ryan, a wordless question in my eyes.
Ryan finishes the call and with an impatient flick, tosses the phone to the side.
“Come here, Stella.”
