“Okay, it’s debatable.”
"Based on what criteria?" He asks, and somehow my body is against his. The firmness beneath his suit and the bulge in his pants kill whatever buzz I had from my drinks.
“The time of day, how many drinks I’ve had, and how generous I’m feeling.”
Carson leans forward and whispers in my ear, “What do I have to do?”
“For what?”
“To be the recipient of your generosity?”
He gives me a cocky smile, and I know Quanesha is right, and Rachelle approves with a hearty, Yes, hunty!
I am really losing it.
"What if I'm not looking for anything serious? I came to have fun. Do some grown folks thangs and head back to my life."
“Like what?” He asks.
“I just want some dick with no complications.” I’m not here to find a man. End the drought and get that damn promotion seems hard enough to tackle.
His blue eyes blaze pure white with lust. "Then, I got you. Tomorrow, my place at seven."
The large man taps his arm, and within seconds he whispers his apologies, and I'm left alone.
Oh my god! Bish is about to get her groove on!!!
Chapter 7
Days pass, and my schedule demands my attention and my time, but my thoughts are never far from Rachelle. Tonight, we lay awake on the phone as if she's not sleeping in my hotel. I want to be there, but not if I can't take her out and do things the right way.
“How’s writing the script going?”
She groans, and I chuckle. "I sit at that computer for hours staring at the blinking cursor. It's like my brain refuses to write garbage."
“Then write what you want.”
“I would, but the point of a spec script is to show them I can write content for the current show in production. But it’s not my thing. The shows about drama, women dashing water on each other, and cattiness. Plus, I get distracted every time someone pops in the business center or sends a document to the printer. Enough about me. When are you taking me on a date?”
“Friday.”
“I have to wait two more days.”
“Are you starting to rethink your offer?” I sit back, rubbing my eyes.
“No. Something tells me you’ll be worth the wait.” I smile, then she adds. “You better be. I’m trying to end the drought.”
“Drought?” Suddenly I’m not tired. Rachelle has a way of taking me from operating on autopilot to being rock hard and fully engaged.
“Yes, didn’t I tell you?”
“You really are a tease.”
“Sorry, not sorry.” Her sexy laugh makes me groan. “But yeah, it’s been a while since I’ve had sex.”
“How long is a while?”
“Three years, give or take.”
“Three years? What’s wrong with the men in L.A.? You’re living on the wrong coast.”
“So, you say, but I need some proof.”
"I got your proof," I promise. "Friday night, plan to stay here."
“That should work. Daiya is out with Pierce. And thanks to your busy schedule, I’m caught up on my work.”
“It sounds like you’ve missed the point of vacationing.”
"Yeah, a little. But thanks to Mr. Wellington, the spa today was the bomb. Thanks for the royal treatment today. My body feels amazing." She purrs, and I want to see her.
I stand asking about her experience at our in-house spa as I ride down the elevator. It’s late, almost midnight, and I’ve been awake since six. Yet, I don’t stop until I’m outside Suite 401.
“Why are you so quiet?”
"Thinking," I say outside her suite.
Part of me wishes I didn't accept her request for a date. She'd be out seeing the city, the greatest city in the world if you ask me. She did some shopping with Daiya. She's dined at the restaurants and attended several of the live music sets. Each night we sit on video talking about her adventurers, and internally I'm wishing I was there and not doing the thing I've wanted to do my life.
This hotel is my dream.
Having people fly from Hong Kong, China, Europe, South America, and other countries I can’t even find on a map. They flew across the globe to meet at my hotel. I should feel accomplished, like the fucking man on top of the world. But having Rachelle in this building, not in my bed, not in my arms, is challenging me. The man in me wants to claim her body, her mind, and her soul, and I'm not sure how I feel about that.
“What’s got you so quiet tonight?”
“You?”
“Really, do tell?” The seductive tone in her voice is fucking hot. Leaving me in a state of arousal with the sound of her throaty purr.
“I’m wondering what you’re wearing.”
“I’d tell you. But you have to work harder than that.”
“Then open your door and let me see for myself.”
“What?”
I swear I can hear her heart beating through the phone.
“You heard me, Rachelle. Let me in.”
The line goes dead. Days on the phone have clued me into her. She’s quick-witted yet cautious. She’s bold and daring, yet there’s a sensitivity beneath the surface that has me wanting to discover everything about her.
The door opens. Her cautious eyes stare at me through the crack. And I'm not Carson Wellington, billionaire, hotelier. I'm a man that wants this woman.
A man that wants time to question why it took the universe this long to bring her to me.
A man that wants the world and all my obligations to disappear.
“This isn’t fair,” she whispers.
I drop my chin to my chest. My heart whispers, Can we keep her?
Starting and ending my day with Rachelle makes the messy middle doable. This conference is more than I anticipated, and I’m only a week in. Will I survive going nonstop for twenty-one more days?
“Why?” I ask, welcoming her humor. “Because you’re a tease?”
“Ha! You caught me.” She laughs. “Carson, I want to say yes to you coming in.”
I step forward.
“But I have on my bonnet, sleeping glasses, and old flannel pajamas. This is why we schedule dates. Beauty takes time.”
“Not yours.”
“See, then you say shit like that.”
“And you say shit.”
“Damn. I did. Didn’t I? I didn’t mean shit shit but…”
We laugh. Not the awkward, uncomfortable laugh between strangers. We've crossed that line. This is us back in the lounge, standing against the reality of our situation. She wants my dick, and I want her.
I rest my hands on the frame of the door and lean closer. "I know, and I want to kiss you again. Can I kiss you, Rachelle?"
“Close your eyes.”
“You got to be fucking kidding me.”
“See, this is what happens when you work around the clock. My cussing rubs off. Close your eyes, Carson.”
We’re staring through the small crack. The world stops giving us this moment.
"This isn't a great first impression, Carson." Her voice quivers, and my cock throbs.
"We're past first impressions. Now, I just want to see you."