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Moving forward, I grazed my lips over the spot below her ear, satisfaction rumbling through me as she shivered. Just as I moved to envelop her in my arms, the lift pinged, and she walked towards the opening doors. I followed her down the carpeted hallway to her room. The lock chirped at a swipe of her key card, and then we were inside. Floor-to-ceiling windows gave a view over the Glasgow cityscape, and the suite was luxuriously decorated in dark, golden tones.
‘Nice room,’ I said, shucking off my jacket and hanging it neatly over the back of a chair. The living space had a series of leather sofas, a kitchenette and dining area. Vixen picked up a remote control, flicking a music channel onto the TV and pumping up the volume.
‘Mmm, looking to be extra noisy tonight?’ I said, moving towards her before wrapping my arms about her waist and pulling her to me.
‘No fun in the silence,’ she replied, her kohl lined eyes meeting mine.
One of my hands skated up over her dress, and I cupped her chin, tipping her mouth to mine, desperate for a taste of her.
Before I could capture her lips, she diverted my mouth to her throat. ‘I don’t like kissing.’
Swallowing down the disappointment, I pressed my lips against the hot skin of her neck, pouring my need against her beating pulse. I fucking loved kissing. The heat, the passion, the driving intimacy. It wasn’t unusual for playmates to avoid it, particularly if they were a couple, but every time it left me feeling unworthy. Good enough to fuck, but at arm’s length.
Focusing on the way her heartbeat quickened against my lips, I nipped and sucked my way along her collarbone. Her fingers tucked into my hair, directing my mouth to where she wanted it.
A dull vibrating noise broke through my concentration.
‘Sorry,’ she said breathlessly. ‘I’ll just get that.’
Grabbing her phone from her purse, she gave an apologetic smile before ducking into what I assumed was the main bedroom.
To pass the awkward moment alone, I admired the artwork on the walls of the living room before moving towards a series of doors. A quick freshen up wouldn’t go amiss. The drinks from the bar were already sitting heavy.
Opening the first revealed a small cupboard holding an ironing board and other bits and pieces.
The second was a dark room. Reaching around the doorway, I found a light switch and flicked it on. Bright light illuminated a small, messy bedroom. Takeaway containers littered the desk along with multiple abandoned paper coffee cups. A pair of man’s boots lay discarded against the end of the bed. It didn’t line up with the neatly put together Vixen here for a one-night stand at all.
My brow creased. Was it one of those family rooms which were adjoined? Had the hotel left the wrong door unlocked?
A reflection in the desk mirror caught my eye. Photographs and pieces of paper were stuck all over the wall behind the door. I walked into the room, letting the door close behind me as I focused on the images.
The McGowan mansion, but from afar.
Me walking down the street on the phone.
The pretty red-headed singer with her mouth wrapped around my dick.
What the fuck?
There were dozens of photos spanning back over weeks. Sweat pricked at the back of my neck while my eyes went from picture to picture, trying to absorb the information.
Vixen was stalking me?
With a shudder, I grabbed a handful of the photos and shoved them in my pocket, hoping they’d be useful in finding out who the hell the little psycho was somehow. I needed to get out of the room first though.
Pulling the door ajar, I peeked out. The main living area was still empty. Thank God. Her call must have been taking a while. My body screamed with the wrongness of being there as I made my way to the exit, knowing I just had to get downstairs to the front desk. With my breaths sounding deafening with each step, I glanced over at the other bedroom door, praying it remained shut. While I could probably give as good as I got if she attacked me, I’d much rather let the police deal with her. If she was mad enough to stalk me, track me down online and lure me there, what else would she be capable of doing? Did she have a weapon?
My palms slicked with sweat as I reached for the door.
Almost there...
‘Alfie?’ Her voice was still low and sultry. Securing my hand on the handle, I looked over my shoulder and gave what I hoped was a convincing smile.
‘Just going to fetch us some champagne.’
‘No need. There’s plenty in the mini bar.’ A steeliness entered her voice.
I pressed down on the handle, but it didn't budge. Some sort of contraption was fitted around it, preventing my efforts to open the door. I clawed at the obstacle in frustration, yet it refused to move.
