My guess? He’s like me. He’s been burned by love. Only while I’m doing everything in my power to dust myself off and get back on my feet, he’d prefer to retreat into his loneliness entirely à la the Phantom of the Opera.
“Let me guess,” I say incredulously, “not a fan of Santa either?”
“The Tooth Fairy is a total bitch.”
“Some of us happen to love and respect the magic creatures of this world, thank you very much.”
I’ve earned a small grin from him. “You’re not so bad, Bride Attack Girl,” he comments.
I tilt my head. “You’re not so bad either, Brax-Hick.”
His eyes meet mine. They’re magnetic; his gaze is simultaneously warm and hard, quiet and controlled, and far too similar to the yellowed gaze of a hungry wolf lying in wait. “Well, you’ve only just started to get to know me.”
“How much worse does it get?”
“How much time do you have?”
I curl my hand under my chin. “All night.”
A smile touches the edge of his mouth. “Is that a promise?”
I bite my lip.
3
Susie
I’m not this girl. I’m a romantic. I read Jane Austen, I cry at romantic comedies, and I take Valentine’s Day very, very seriously.
The point is, I’m not the kind of girl who has a one-night stand with a stranger at the bar.
But then again, I’m working on moving on from Ace. And Braxton is…
Well. Braxton is a league of his own.
My back slams against the wall. The elevator doors barely ding closed before Braxton hits the button for the penthouse and springs on me like a panther. He claims my mouth in a kiss that sucks the air from my lungs. I hear myself moan into his mouth, and I can barely believe that such a desperate, hungry noise is coming from me, even as his hands snake up my sides. He traps my wrists above my head with a strong grip. My hips jut against his, and I gasp for breath.
“God, I want you like crazy,” he murmurs into the shell of my ear. I shudder when I feel his breath on my neck, followed by his lips, then his teeth. A sharp pinprick of pain gets me on my toes, and I gasp as he works a raw hickey into my throat. My mind spins, hazily aware that the elevator doors could open at any second and I’d be on full display to some poor couple that just wanted to go up.
“I’m…I swear…I’m not…that girl,” I moan.
He stops and cups my face in his hand. His thumb smears my bottom lip, and his eyes flicker over mine intensely. “Have you ever done anything like this before?” he asks.
I shake my head. “No.”
“So you’re just a naughty girl for me?”
My breath catches in my throat. His eyes don’t leave mine as his hands drop to my pants. He thumbs the top button, and I hear the hiss of my zipper dragging downward. I part my legs an inch, and he takes the invitation. He slides his hand down my pants, inside my panties, and I gasp when his long fingers part my sex and glide over my slick labia. His touch electrifies my nerves. When he pushes a single finger deep inside of me, I find myself on my tiptoes, struggling against the onslaught of pleasure.
“You’re so beautiful like this,” he breathes. I feel that finger curl inside me, hitting my pleasure center as his thumb draws lazy circles over my swollen clitoris. My moans stutter as I rake my fingers through his hair and claw the back of his neck.
Oh God. Oh God. “Please,” I whine.
“Please what?” he murmurs. His voice is melted honey, and my legs clamp around his hand, but it doesn’t stop his fingers from coaxing me closer to my edge.
“If you keep this up, I’m going to…”
Ding. The elevator door flies open. In a single motion, his hand retreats and he snaps my pants button back into place. “Hold that thought.” He winks and sucks his finger clean.
He is dirty, vulgar, shameless, and holy hell if it doesn’t make my heart hammer in my chest. My legs are wobbly when I walk, but I somehow make it down the hall to his room.
This is a bad idea. Don’t I know better than to follow strange men to their hotel rooms? When he opens the door and flips on the light, however, my inner protests come to a quick halt.
The penthouse suite stretches out before me in all its glory. The tables and dressers are pure stained mahogany, with off-beige sofas and love seats peppering the living room. Autumnal curtains are tied back from the windows, exposing the beautiful Central Park view. I step in beside a telescope to look out the window and take in the deep green treetops on the verge of turning gold, highlighted by a swath of magenta sunset sky.
I’ve done the math for my clients. One mostly decent room at the Ritz-Carlton can ring up to the tune of $700 a night. There’s no telling how much he paid for all these bells and whistles. Which begs the question…
Who the heck is this guy?
“Don’t hate me for asking this, but…what did you say you name was again?” I spin around to face him.
“Braxton.” He tosses his jacket over the back of a chair and unbuttons his shirt. “Braxton West.”
Braxton West. Why does that sound familiar? The answer is burning a hole in the back of my mind, but it scatters when Braxton rolls his shirt over his shoulders and abandons it with his jacket. Father, Son, and the Holy CrossFit, he’s ripped. I don’t know where he was hiding those guns before, but they’re out now, sizable muscles strapped to his biceps. A dark patch of hair runs down his stomach like grains of sand in an hourglass, flanked by a well-defined abdomen and irresistible V-lined hips.
“Enjoying the view?” he asks. Uh—right. The window. He’s talking about the window. Well, kind of. No mistaking that cocky smirk alight in his eyes. What am I getting myself into?
My fingers curl around the window ledge, and my knuckles grow white. “Central Park is…beautiful this time of year…you know, most people get married in the Ladies Pavilion down by the lake, but personally I prefer Shakespeare’s Garden, especially in summer when the tulips are out and—”
“Do you mind if I take off your shirt?” he asks, his dark eyes fixated on mine. He gets straight to the point.
I shake my head, stupid with lust. He takes the edges of my shirt, and the fabric flutters over my head before it drops to the floor. He then reaches behind me, unsnaps my bra, and delicately peels that off as well. Once he’s done, he shifts back to admire his handiwork. I feel exposed, and my arms reflexively cover myself.
“You have nothing to hide, Susie.” He catches my wrists and gently lowers them. “You’re stunning.”
I swallow hard and feel my face turn the color of the sunset. There’s no hiding his effect on me now. My nipples go pebble hard in seconds flat under his hungry gaze. My breast fits completely in his hand, and he draws his thumb over the raised skin. “Look,” he says. “It’s like Cinderella’s shoe. Perfect fit.”
He pinches my nipple suddenly, and I gasp. His eyes flash at the sound. “Do you like that?” he asks. “A little pain?”
I shake my head. “No, I mean…I don’t know.”
There’s that wolf’s smile again. “We’ve got all night to find out.”