When was the last time she’d eaten? She’d skipped lunch. Last minute details to iron out in the new contract had left her no time to stop and if she was honest, she hadn’t even thought about food at the time. The more she thought about it now, the hungrier she got. A nice big steak would hit the spot just right. Hopefully Saxon didn’t think she was one of those Barbie doll women who ate nothing but lettuce leaves.
Carly shuddered at the thought of denying herself food of any kind but going without meat? Well that was just inhuman. Her tummy growled loudly, protesting the very idea of not getting its regular dose of protein. Saxon better have ordered enough for both of them or he’d be the one going without. She could just about eat the leg off a chair now that her hunger had been brought to her attention.
She levered herself up and sat, her legs dangling over the side of the mattress. At five-foot eight, Carly wasn’t short but the beds in this luxurious hotel were so high her toes just skimmed the floor. Everything about the Raffle’s Hotel was grandiose in an early nineteen hundred’s style. Except the plumbing, that was all twenty first century. The whole hotel might lend itself to yesteryear but no modern convenience had been left out.
When they’d checked in earlier in the week she’d been more than a little surprised by Saxon’s choice of room but after a week of meetings held in the dining area of the suite, Carly couldn’t argue with it. The ability to duck back into her room to grab some vital piece of information had come in handy on more than one occasion. And today wasn’t the first day she’d indulged in the made-for-soaking tubs the bathrooms boasted.
She’d never stayed in such a lavishly appointed hotel but she sure could get used to it. Everywhere she looked the fabrics and furnishings were opulent, majestic, and the plush, stately ambiance gave all visitors a pampered feeling. All the employees, in their history-inspired uniforms, went out of their way to see she had every available comfort. Yep, staying here, even though it had been for work, was the most extravagant week of her life.
Even the thick, soft-as-silk towel wrapped around her was decadent. Carly would never have white towels in her own house but she could see the appeal in them, especially when they felt this sumptuous and sinful against her skin. Each slide over her flesh brought nerves to life as the sensation of being stroked filled her. Her skin tingled and her nerves sang. Her arousal, humming beneath the surface, gained volume—became a buzz. Why hadn’t she noticed the sensuality of her surroundings before?
Her gaze traveled around the room, taking in all the colors and textures. Some were designed to draw the eye, while others were meant to barely be noticed. From the carpet to the curtains, the walls to the windows, every surface was pleasing to the eye and a delight to the senses. Maybe she was seeing the sensual aspects because her hormones were standing at attention after being with Saxon.
The fine hairs on her neck stood and the prickly sensation of being watched crept its way down her spine. She turned her head and found Saxon lounging in the doorway, shoulder leaning on the frame. He had his legs crossed at the ankle with one foot propped on his toes, his hooded eyes trained on her, his posture deceptively casual. He was anything but. The muscles in his crossed arms were taut and the one along his jaw twitched. His gaze smoldered with a predatory gleam and the bulge unsuccessfully hidden by the towel he wore, more than enough to tell her what he was thinking.
The buzz of arousal became a roar and the prickles along her spine turned into electric shocks. Her nipples puckered, the points rubbing against the towel that confined them. Yearning spread to all corners of her body, swirled and heated as it centered in her lower belly. Liquid seeped from between her legs and Carly squeezed her thighs in the vain attempt to ease the desperate longing growing in her core. She straightened her shoulders, thrust out her chest and licked her suddenly parched lips.
On a growl, Saxon shot away from the door, in three strides he stood in front of her and whipped the towel from around his waist. His erection sprang free, mere inches from her mouth, and she dragged her tongue over her lips again. This close to her, the growl that rumbled from him vibrated along her skin, danced on the tips of her nerves and drew the muscles of her pussy tight.
She didn’t see him move, had no idea of his intentions until she found herself stripped of her towel and spun around—her face and stomach flat on the bed and her legs hanging over the side. He dropped to his knees behind her, his hands cupping the cheeks of her ass and his thumbs probing the crack. He opened her, using fingers and thumbs to reveal her hidden depths. His breath fanned out over her exposed flesh and between her folds to singe her swollen clit.
A moan of pleasure tripped off her tongue and her hands curled into the bedclothes as electric pulses arrowed into her womb. Her muscles contracted, squeezing tight, but he held her open and blew another stream of air onto her pussy. Her body jolted and she bit her lip to stop the cry of pleasure from leaving her throat.