“It would make me happier if you locked the deadlock.”
“You’re a strange combination of daring and fearful, aren’t you, Miss Maya Bennett?”
I shrug, because what I really am is fearful. If he sees something daring in me, he’s been deceived, but if a fearless girl is what he wants, I’ll continue to deceive him, until he uncovers my true self.
He sits on the bed, not touching me, and I’m afraid for a moment, that my nervousness has broken whatever spell pulled us together.
“Last night,” he says. “I—you aren’t—you haven’t—”
All the blood in my body rushes to my face.
Somehow, between the alcohol and the amazingness of what passed between us, I thought he didn’t notice my inexperience. But he notices everything.
“It’s what I wanted,” I tell him. “Why I took you up on your invitation. I’m sorry, if it, if I, wasn’t what you expected.”
I hate myself for even suggesting what passed between us last night wasn’t magical perfection. For me, it was everything.
He grins at me, no longer questioning, or reassuring. The smile is pure sex.
“Was I what you expected?”
I wanted an experience. A memory. “You were—a little bit more than I expected.”
“This time we’ll take our time and really enjoy ourselves.”
Is there enjoyment beyond what happened between us last night? All I’d dare to dream of was a repeat, not something more.
“I’m going to undress you now,” he growls, and his hands are silk against my skin. He moves slowly, with exaggerated care, unbuttoning my shirt and allowing his fingers to linger at each button.
“You really should lock the door. The ‘do not disturb’ is likely to just make employees curious about who might be up here, since this floor isn’t used by guests.
“Exactly.” His smile is slow and suggestive. “But it has come to my attention, that you need a little excitement in your life. I’m afraid I’d had a little too much to drink last night, and didn’t give you the attention you deserved.”
He’s lingering over the last button on my shirt. He pulls a clean painting rag out of his back pocket and knots it around my wrist, and then loops the other end around the base of the lamp on the nightstand.
“Too much movement, and the light will topple, bringing the maids running in here,” he warns me.
“Why would the maids—”
He unhooks my bra.
“Did I not tell you?” His dimple makes a quick appearance—“The maids will be having their weekly meeting in the room next door. But don’t worry, I’m sure you can be quiet enough not to attract their attention.”
“What? No—”
There’s no way I can go through with this, with employees in the next room, and not do something that will make me lose my job. Cruise is undressing, discarding his paint stained khakis, and then his shirt. The light filters in, illuminating his tattoos, his muscled torso. He’s only wearing his boxers.
Just looking at him makes me want to moan out loud. How am I supposed to stay quiet once things get started?
“You didn’t get enough attention last night. I want to focus on a few select areas—” He leans close, his breath hot against my breast. I lie back on the pillows, careful not to dislodge the lamp, as his tongue probes, teasing my nipples. His hand caresses one breast, and his mouth is attached to the other. Without meaning to, I arch my back, concentrating on not making a sound. His lips tighten around my nipple, sucking it, his tongue flicking back and forth and I moan a little, turning my face into the pillows.
Aware, and uncaring of the agony he’s causing me, Cruise slides downward, kissing his way down my stomach, and pausing just below my navel. After a last lingering kiss, he raises his face, giving me a heart-stopping mile. My entire body tenses. My hips press up into him, neglected and aching for attention, but I can hear footsteps in the hall, and as much as I want him to pleasure me, I know how difficult it will be not to make a sound. How much anxiety this game is sure to cause me.
Unable to stop myself, I feel my hips swivel back and forth, trying to get a little traction, since he hasn’t yet done more than press against me.
Ever so slowly, he dips his fingers into the space between my panties and the denim shorts, skimming over my silk panties, with a touch so light it makes me want to scream. Back and forth, back and forth, I watch the numbers change on the digital clock, trying to distract myself, so I don’t give in and beg him for more.