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“Of course, I do! I hate it! But Rose deserves to know her father, and I won’t deprive her of that right even if I want to kick him in the balls every time he smirks at me and tells me how his girlfriend is a better mother than I am.”
“I’ll kick him for you,” I offered.
She smiled at me. A crooked smile that began at her lips and ended in her eyes. I wished I could trace it with my tongue.
“Get me into bed first,” she said, and I stared at her in surprise.
CHAPTER 4
CELINE
Icould have bitten my tongue off!
“The hotel bed! I meant get me to the hotel first,” I stammered, feeling my face flush. “I’m sorry, but I’m exhausted.”
I didn’t know what it was about this man that made me think, say and do inappropriate things. Look at how I dry-humped him earlier, instead of kicking him in the nuts when I had the chance. He broke into my house and overpowered me before I could slam the saucepan upside his head. I didn’t know what came over me. One minute I was fighting him off like a cornered animal, and the next, I was melting in his arms like a starving sex kitten.
Sure, Marcus Donovan looked like an angel. A fallen one, to be precise, with that pouty full mouth and the chiseled jawline that I could cut myself on. His thick, dark hair was cut short, making him look even more severe. But he wasn’t the first handsome man I had seen. So why did I come so close to losing my head?
All I knew was that when he pinned me to the sofa with my arms held tightly over my head, my breasts brushed against the hard muscular wall of his chest and his legs pushed mine wide apart so that his dick was directly against my crotch. My slightest movement set off the most delicious friction and my eyes were almost rolling back in my head before he made a snide comment about it. The asshole.
I sighed as I admitted that I was being slightly unfair. It wasn’t his fault that I hadn’t been laid in ages. That was the only explanation for why I was primed and ready to go off like a Fourth of July rocket. Marcus Donovan had been nothing but a gentleman after our inauspicious beginning. Hell, he had even shielded me from gunfire. I couldn’t hold his hotness and my reaction to it against him, I decided.
“The hotel is booked,” he said, checking his phone.
“Great! I’m ready,” I said, picking up the small gym bag I always kept ready for emergencies.
I had packed a week’s worth of clothes in my rucksack, and I desperately hoped I wouldn’t have to pay for the laundry service at the hotel. I wondered if he had booked us into one of the cheap motels near the airport. I shrugged on a leather jacket and followed Marcus out the door with one last look around my house.
I hoped Arjun didn’t blow it up in a fit of spite. This house was all I had. It was small, but it was mine. The other dancers at the club lived in fancy condos in Greenwich Village, but I settled for this house because I was still paying off college loans. That fancy art degree had turned out to be pretty useless, and I’d taken up dancing at the club when I realized how much strippers made in tips. Brandon had turned his nose up at my job, but I had no choice. Unlike him, I didn’t come from old money.
My mother didn’t even know who my father was. I was the product of a crazy, ecstasy-fuelled night at the Burning Man. She hadn’t been much of a mother to me, preferring to spend her evenings at the local bar than at home, and I’d had very little contact with her after I left for college. She knew about Rose, but she didn’t care.
Well, it was her loss, I told myself as I locked the door behind me.
“Where’s your car?” I asked, shaking myself out of the past.
Marcus led me down the street and my footsteps slowed when I realized that he didn’t bring a car. Marcus Donovan had ridden to my rescue on a motorcycle.
I could almost feel my uterus spasm in delight at the sight of the beast. Fuuuuuck! Why was God punishing me like this? I’d always had a thing for bikes and bikers. Marcus pulled a spare helmet off the side of the bike and handed it to me. I watched as he put on his helmet and threw a muscular leg over the bike. My inner muscles clenched at the sight and I felt a gush of wetness escape me.
“Are you afraid of bikes?” he asked in surprise.
I shook my head and clipped my helmet in place.
“Hang on,” he murmured when I hopped onto the seat behind him.
I slid my hands around his middle and held on for dear life as he roared off down the street. To my surprise, we got on the Grand Central Parkway. This was the way to Central Park, and I knew that the hotels in that area were bloody expensive.
“Where are we going?” I yelled over the roar of the bike.
Marcus didn’t reply, maybe because he was focused on weaving through traffic expertly, but in less than thirty minutes, he pulled up in an alley behind a fancy hotel. I looked around and saw a uniformed bellboy waving to us from a fire door. Another bellboy ran to take my bags.
“What the hell is this place?” I asked in an agonized whisper as I allowed my rucksack to be slipped off my shoulders.
I was expecting a motel. This was no motel. This was….
“The Ritz Carlton,” drawled Marcus.
