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If I don’t do this soon, he can claim breach of contract, such as it is. Sure, Camille said she had that cuddle guy, but this is my first time doing this, and I’m sure they don’t give a free pass to first timers. Either we have sex and I get my money, or we don’t and I won’t.
But after all the bickering, is he even in the mood?
Anderson, the man I hated for almost half my life, cants his head to the side as he smirks at me. “Are you in there?”
“Um, yes. I am.”
He reaches up for my face, and at first, I start to pull back. But then I remember I’m supposed to be here for him to touch. So, I just freeze. When his fingertips touch my cheek, I fight a shiver. His thumb runs over my bottom lip and when he pulls away, there’s whipped cream there. He licks it off. “You had a little cream there. Thought I’d help.”
That was the most satisfying sexual thing to happen to me in over two years. Dear God. What in the hell.
I gulp and lightly joke, “Can’t take me anywhere, can you?”
His wry smile sets me on edge. But it falls quickly. “Are you finished?”
I haven’t even begun. “Yeah. I think so.”
Again, he takes my plate to the trolley, then his own, but this time, he sets the silver domes on them. “I presume you’re done with everything? Unless you want more. I’ll load up your plate, if you like?—"
“No. I’m good.”
He putters with things there, and it’s only then that I see it. He’s stalling. Oh my god, he’s nervous, too. It’s not as though he has to clean anything in this situation, yet he’s organizing and reorganizing the plates. After everything, he’s not sure how to start this.
Clearly, he’s interested in me that way. He wouldn’t have spent all this money to get me alone in a room otherwise. And given this isn’t a prank of some kind, he’s … he’s here for a reason. I’m the reason. But he won’t make the first move. Maybe I was too abrasive, or he thinks I truly hate him.
None of that matters right now. I need the money. I can’t wait for him to get off his ass about this. There’s less than five hours left to go, and if I wait for him, I do not know if he will give up.
It doesn’t hurt that he’s only gotten better looking with age. And that damned smirk thing … why does that work for me? It’s like a naughty smile that tells me exactly what he’s thinking, and what he’s thinking about is the dirtiest thing I can conjure.
That’s it. I have to make the first move. I’m done waiting.
So, I get out of the bed and pad over to him, wrapping my arms around him from behind. His whole body stiffens up in my arms. He murmurs, “What are you doing?”
“I thought I’d see if you wanted to do what … we’re both here for.”
Slowly, he turns around to face me. It is impossible to admit that I have always found him attractive, even when he was an asshole. Admitting that felt wrong. But I did back then. Now, though, when all arrogance has fallen from his face and a line of confusion forms between his brows, he’s even more attractive.
Every other guy I’ve been with, the moment I brought up sex, that was that. It was time for sex. But Anderson isn’t jumping my bones. In fact, he looks concerned more than anything else. “June, you don’t have to do this. I promise.”
I smirk up at him. “And you’re going to pay me almost four hundred thousand dollars just for a nearly naked breakfast?”
He half-smiles as he thinks of what to say, so I pull him to my lips for a kiss. It’s tentative at first, just to see if he’s for real. I think I surprised him—it’s like he’s being careful as he kisses me back.
After a moment, though, he wraps me in his arms and slants his mouth over mine, deepening the kiss. His fingers weave into my hair, gently tugging to tip my head back more for him. The touch sends sparks through me. His tongue sweeps into my mouth, and before I know it, I’m gone. It is the best kiss of my life.
Whatever confusing, psychological damage this might do to me in the future, tonight, I don’t care. I want the man who haunted my nightmares.
Chapter 14
JUNE
Anderson presses his forehead to mine and breaks the kiss. “Are you sure this is what you want, June?”
“Yes.”
With that, all his caution is gone. He holds me tighter to him, kissing me roughly. Fuck, finally. I dig my fingernails against his tuxedo shirt to find his thick shoulders. It makes him growl into my mouth. That growl spikes my pulse, and that pulse swims through a river of champagne, so I’m warm and supple all over.
I’d hated myself for the secret attraction I’d harbored for him all this time, and something about this feels so wrong, and that only makes me hotter right now. I’ve never done anything remotely like this. Every guy I’ve been with only got to this point with me after at least a few dates, and with the intention of carrying on a relationship. I was not the one-night stand girl, and certainly not the sells-sex girl.
