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“What do you mean someone like you?”
She waves her hand up and down her body and then fans it out toward me. “Oh, come on. You look all muscled and hot and I’m Plain Jane in a fancy dress.”
My eyes narrow. “Now, Princess, I’m only going to say this once so listen up. It’s not the dress that makes you beautiful. It’s the curves I want to grab, the plush lips I want all over my body, and those eyes…” I trail off for a moment, lost in the rich depths of her surprised gaze. I shake my head to free myself. “That damn dress is doing nothing but hiding up all the parts of you I’m aching to see.”
Her gasp is sharp. She takes a deep breath and then her shoulders relax. “I’m June.”
“Ryan. And if it’s something you want, Princess, I would love to help you out of that dress and make you feel real good.”
“Is this where I tell you that I like long walks on the beach, Pina Coladas, and getting caught in the rain?”
“Did you know that song is about cheating?”
“No.” Her eyes widen, and her mouth drops open. “Say it isn’t so.”
I shake my head and chuckle. “I’m afraid so. You’ll need to listen to the lyrics next time it comes on. What do you do for a living? You know, aside from entertaining little girls at a birthday party.”
“How about no personal details? I don’t think I can do complications right now.”
Be still my beating heart. No personal details. Where has this woman been my whole life? Not sharing personal details allows me to skip right over rule number seven without breaking it or even coming close.
Rule number seven: do not and I repeat, do not, get mixed up in a woman’s baggage.
No good ever comes from unpacking someone else’s suitcase and peering inside. It only leads to complications, broken promises, and goodbyes. Trust me. Don’t do it. Don’t even look.
Plus, I wouldn’t have to tell her anything about me. God knows that never ends well. Once a girl finds out who I am, it generally makes it really hard to sneak out in the middle of the night. Those little dollar signs flash and a stage-two clinger turns into a four-plus, which solidly violates the aforementioned rule number five.
“Perfectly fine with me. So, favorite sexual position or is that too personal?”
She makes a choking sound and takes a quick drink of her cocktail. “Sorry. I guess I’m not used to someone being so forward. My… ex… well, he only liked one position and I didn’t get much from it.” June looks at her hands, a pink blush spreading across her cheeks. “So I guess I don’t know.”
I lean to the side, resting my elbow on the bar and my chin on my curled fist, assessing her as she fidgets in place. Most of the women I’ve been with have been very sexually experienced, but there’s something about giving this woman some of her firsts. Fulfilling her fantasies. Leading her in an exploration to find out what she truly likes and more importantly what gets her off. It has my heart racing with excitement and my cock hardening, straining against my jeans.
This woman—June—just keeps getting better. If I were a romantic or looking for anything other than a hookup, I’d say she’s perfect. Every inch of her. From her rich brown eyes that hold so much emotion to the thick lashes that line them to her plush, pillow-like lips I need to have on mine. Or elsewhere.
“Perhaps the better question is, what kind of things would you like to try?”
She glances down, her cheeks flush again, and her tongue darts out to wet her lower lip. “Jeez, do you have a pen and paper?”
“Maybe we should go somewhere without all these distractions so I can take notes.” I smirk and then wait for her to make the decision.
She stays quiet for a moment, debating with herself. I can see it written plainly all over her face. She wants to go but she’s unsure. Her eyes search mine and then she takes a deep breath. “I’ve got a room at the hotel across the street.”
I can’t help the wide smile that stretches across my face. The things I’m going to do to this woman. “The honeymoon suite?”
“Quite possibly. I might even have a jacuzzi tub in the room.”
“Check please.”
Five
June
I’m nervous. I’m excited.
I have absolutely no idea what I’m doing. I’m well out of my league, no question. A couple hours ago I was getting ready to marry a man that was—okay, fine, he was super boring. Well, boring until I walked in on his extracurricular activities. And now? Now, I have a gorgeous mountain of a man who could potentially give me those multiple orgasms that I always thought were a myth. Unless of course, he’s a big fat liar and can’t even deliver a small envelope.
The key card shakes in my hand as I pull it out of a side pocket from my gigantic purse and bring it toward the door. The weight of tonight and what it could be, the potential freedom this could give me, sends my stomach plummeting to the ground. I’ve never had a one-night stand or a casual relationship. My experience is limited to Paul. We lost our virginity to each other at twenty-one. I thought it was romantic, but now I realize it’s just sad.
