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I take in the scene in front of me, my breath catching for a completely different reason because the breathtaking fifty-foot-high glass prism showpiece of the Sovereign’s design reaches its peaked glory on this roof. That in itself is awe-inspiring enough, but the moment I spot the table for two set up inside the structure, I struggle not to say fuck decorum and strip myself bare for the man right then and there.
Barrett’s gait is long and determined as he makes his way to my side. I lift my chin to look up at him, expecting—more hoping—for something to happen, be it a cheek kiss or even a hand touch. But it doesn’t happen. Instead, he smiles down at me with a grin so devilishly wicked that has my knees threatening to give out beneath me.
“You look fucking amazing, Alyssa,” he murmurs.
Needing to regain the power, I swing my hip out and shrug. “What? This ol’ thing?”
He leans in toward my cheek, my breath hitching as I wait for his lips to brush against my skin. Warm air fans across my ear as his mouth hovers above the ultra-sensitive spot on my neck, sending waves of awareness coursing through my body. "The dress is fantastic, but those shoes . . ." he growls, and I swear I'm catapulted halfway to climax just from that sound reverberating through me, ". . . I can't wait to feel them digging into my back when I bury my tongue inside you."
I reach out and wrap my hand around his biceps, holding on for dear life as my body threatens to melt into a puddle on the floor. My touch seems to spur him into action, his arm quickly snaking around my waist and keeping me steady.
“I’m not used to women falling at my feet,” he muses, our faces now mere inches apart.
“Oh, I’m sure,” I shoot back breathlessly, the mere presence and proximity of the man messing with my brain. Needing distance to clear my head, I go to step back out of his embrace but he tightens his grip, trapping me there.
His eyes roam over my face. “So quick to move away, Kitten.”
“I—”
He dips his mouth close to my ear again. “Relax, Alyssa.”
“Dinner . . .” I rasp, biting my lip as I struggle not to squirm under the heat of his intense gaze.
“Those lips have been on my mind all afternoon,” he murmurs, his eyes fixating on my mouth again.
“Why?” I ask, dazedly. He continues to stare for a few more moments, my breath quickening at the feel of his hard body against mine and his heat surrounding me.
As if a switch is turned, he slowly moves his hands down my body to rest on my hips, steadying me before taking a step back, breaking the connection. “We’ll get to the why, later . . . much later . . . but first”—he gestures to the prism—“I must feed you.”
“Oh,” I reply, shaking myself out of my daze. The change in mood has me reeling a little and now I’m not sure where this night is headed, or what might come of this date.Maybe I haven’t read him right at all…
“How was the rest of your day?” he asks casually as he leads me over toward the table.
"Ah, yeah, it was good," I reply, recovering quickly. "How was yours? I did look for you, you know?" I want him to know that this game of ours isn't all about play for me. I'd already decided to find him at the airport before he ended up tracking me down himself.
His eyes dance with amusement. “I’m glad to hear that I wasn’t just imagining our connection on the flight then.”
“No, not at all,” I say demurely. “The martini was a nice touch, but it’s not a miracle worker.”
Stopping in front of a black tall-backed chair, he pulls it out, gesturing for me to sit down. “My day was eventful. I had a few meetings and then I spent the rest of my time making the much more important and enjoyable arrangements for tonight.”
“A successful endeavor, it seems.” I smile as I take the offered seat. He pushes me in and rounds the table. “And how exactly did you manage all of this?” I ask, waving my arm to gesture to the room, the table, the whole date. “The roof is VIP access only.”
“I have contacts,” he replies smugly, and a little suspiciously. He looks over my shoulder and nods just before quiet orchestral music fills the air around us. Moments later, two dome-covered plates and a bucket holding a very expensive bottle of champagne are left on the table by Kyle who then bows his head and disappears.Not just a porter then.
“You’re not some secret partner in the hotel, are you?” I ask, narrowing my eyes at him.
He chokes back a laugh. “Alyssa, if I owned this hotel, you’d be staying in my room, and we’d be eating this naked in bed having already acted out everything I said I wanted to do to you on the plane.” I don’t even try to hide the shudder that courses through me.
Needing a distraction—anything to stop me from jumping into his lap and making that happen then and there—I turn my head to see Kyle lighting candles in one corner of the triangular room and working his way around until we’re bathed in soft yellow light. My eyes scan the room, mesmerized by the effect of the flickering flames against the glass.
“Champagne?” Barrett asks, capturing my attention again.
Seeing him standing over the table with the bottle poised over my glass, I can’t resist the opportunity to screw with him a little. “Oh . . .” I murmur, studying the label and frowning in mock disappointment. Our little space falls silent and it’s well worth it to see his bravado stutter before I take pity on the man and put him out of his misery. “Yes, please.”
His eyes widen before he chuckles and shakes his head. “You’re definitely going to keep me on my toes.”
“I’m a woman of many talents, vertical positions notwithstanding,” I retort, earning me his dark hungry gaze again. He leans in deeper, never looking away from me as he expertly pours my drink.
