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“What do you want to do?” And why do I want so much for it to be plain and simple fucking? That’s what I want him to say. I want him to promise mind-blowing marathon sex in that king-size bed. I want to feel him inside me. If this is only going to happen for one night, I want everything. Might as well, right?
“I have a few things in mind.” He doesn’t bother with a towel, strutting around naked. I guess I would, too, if I looked like him. I’m not quite as comfortable yet, so after rubbing myself dry, I close the towel around my chest.
“So long as I can get away with wearing a suit. That’s really all I have with me.”
I expect a scowl, but all I get is a shrug as he washes his hands at one of the two sinks. “I’ll give you my card. You can go shopping wherever you want, so long as you make sure to pick something that’ll look good on the town tonight. I’m thinking cocktail or nicer.”
“You’re offering me your credit card and telling me to go shopping? Is there a dollar limit?”
“I’m not offering. I’m giving it to you. And you’re going to use it—without a limit,” he adds. “I’ll trust your judgment.”
The only problem is, considering what I just did and am strongly considering doing again, my judgment is what I’m questioning more than anything right now.
“You have two hours,” he finally announces. “I want you looking good from head to toe.”
“But where are we going?”
Dread and anticipation mix in my gut when the corner of his mouth pulls upward. “Leave that to me. What, do you think I’d steer you wrong?”
It’s better if I don’t answer that one.
COLTON
The problem with making as much money as I have in as short a period of time is a person tends to get jaded.
I’ve experienced things I never could have imagined back home. I’ve seen a lot of the world, met fascinating people, own all the toys—the cars, the jet, the townhomes, all of it.
In other words, there isn’t much that can impress me anymore.
Which is why I almost laugh at myself, sitting here at the bar in the hotel, waiting for my unexpected New Year’s gift to step off the elevator. I made it clear I wanted her ready to go by eight o’clock, which will give us plenty of time to have fun before midnight.
I tap my fingers against the shining wood, checking my watch, willing her to arrive while pleasant conversation goes on around me. People having drinks before going out to continue the party. I sip my bourbon, willing myself to stay calm. This is hardly the first time I’ve ever exercised self-control.
But damned if it isn’t the most difficult.
One thing I didn’t do earlier is touch her, and now my hands are aching to feel her body under them. It’s not enough to watch her give herself pleasure. I need to be the one doing it.
Who could have guessed shy little Harper Adams could put on a show like the one she gave me?
Before the night is over, she’s going to be doing a lot more than that.
What makes me smile to myself is knowing it won’t take a lot of convincing. She might pretend she’s only doing this to keep her job, but there was nothing about her performance earlier to even hint at her being an unwilling participant. She was willing, all right. It got her hot, showing off for me, which only added to my satisfaction. A silent give and take, the two of us egging each other on.
I need to stop thinking this way, or I’ll come in my pants.
Hanging from the back of my chair is a small shopping bag. I ran an errand of my own this afternoon, and knowing what’s waiting for her has me ready to go up to the room and demand she move her ass.
Turns out, there’s no need. From where I’m seated, I have a clear view through the lobby, and my heart threatens to burst from my chest when I see her step through the sliding doors.
I called her a goddess earlier, and I meant it, but it’s never been truer than it is at this moment. The sight of her in a low-cut, curve-hugging black dress is almost enough to knock me on the floor. The cut of the fabric accentuates her full tits and luscious hips that sway slightly as she strides across the lobby. Her legs look a mile long in a pair of silver stilettos that I can’t help but imagine gripping as I drive myself into her. By the time this night is over, those heels are going to dig into my shoulders.
She tosses her thick, red hair over one shoulder before tucking it behind her ear, and I’m reminded of how nervous she is. It’s almost touching, especially when she’s trying so hard to hide it.
“Did I do a good job?” she asks by way of greeting once she reaches me.
I can’t find the words. She’s overwhelming, the sight and smell of her taking over my awareness until I’m ready to take her here and now. But she wants reassurance, so I force myself to put my thoughts together. “I’d answer, but I’m too busy making sure none of the guys in here lay a finger on you.”
She blurts out a high-pitched laugh of disbelief. “Get out of here.”
