Page 3

Elena

T he room key card slips from my trembling fingers, falling to the carpeted hallway. I laugh nervously as I bend to retrieve it, feeling Nate's eyes on me. The third swipe finally works, the lock clicking open with a soft electronic beep.

"Do I make you nervous?" Nate whispers against my ear, his breath hot on my neck, sending shivers down my spine.

"Apparently." My voice comes out raspy.

We stumble through the doorway. The door barely closes behind us before his mouth finds mine again, hungrier than before. My purse drops to the floor with a thud. His hands slide beneath my blouse, warm against my skin. I gasp into his mouth as his fingers trace the outline of my bra.

"You are truly beautiful," he murmurs against my lips.

I haven't done this in... I can't even remember how long. And never like this—never with someone I just met. Never with this raw, immediate need pulsing through me.

His lips move to my neck, teeth grazing my skin. My fingers thread through his hair, pulling him closer. The wall is cool against my back as he presses against me, his body hard and insistent.

"I need..." I start, not even sure what I'm asking for.

"Tell me. I want to give you everything you need," he whispers against my throat.

My mind clouds with desire, but a small voice of reason manages to break through. "Just give me a minute?"

He pulls back immediately, his eyes searching mine. "Of course."

"I'll be right back," I say, slipping from between him and the wall, heading toward the bathroom. "Make yourself comfortable."

I close the bathroom door behind me, leaning against it. I’m on fire. In the mirror, my reflection stares back at me—flushed cheeks, swollen lips, wide eyes. I barely recognize myself.

"What are you doing, Elena?" I whisper to my reflection, turning on the faucet to mask my voice.

This is crazy. I don't do one-night stands. I don't invite strangers to my hotel room. I don't forget about important first days at work for playtime in the sheets with someone whose last name I don't even know.

I use the toilet quickly, then wash my hands, splashing cold water on my face. It doesn't help. The fire inside me refuses to be doused.

Tomorrow is my first day working with my father. Tomorrow I need to be professional, composed, and focused. Not this woman with wild eyes and an ache between her legs.

"This is insane," I murmur, dabbing my face dry with a towel.

I can still feel his lips on mine, the press of his body against me. And I want more.

Maybe that's exactly why I need this. One night of recklessness before stepping back into my father's world, where every move I make will be scrutinized, where I'll need to be perfect.

Tonight doesn't have to mean anything. It can just be what it is—two adults enjoying each other. No strings, no complications.

I run my fingers through my hair, reapplying a quick swipe of lip gloss. The woman in the mirror smiles at me, a co-conspirator in this delicious madness.

"Fuck it," I decide. "You're overthinking again."

I take a deep breath and open the bathroom door, stepping back into the room.

And there he is.

Nate stands by the foot of the bed, completely, gloriously naked. The lamplight plays across his body, highlighting the defined muscles of his chest and arms, the flat plane of his stomach, the narrow trail of dark hair leading down...

Well, he didn't waste any time now, did he?

My mouth goes dry. My eyes widen, unable to look away from the perfect specimen of masculinity before me. He's all lean muscle and smooth skin—this man no doubt spends a lot of time in the gym.

"I hope this is okay," he says, a slight smile playing at the corners of his mouth. His confidence doesn't waver under my gaze—if anything, he seems to enjoy my obvious appreciation.

"More than okay," I manage to say, my voice barely above a whisper.

I can't believe how hot his body is. There's a small tattoo on his right shoulder—something geometric that I can't quite make out from here—and several more scattered across his body. A scar runs along his left side, thin and white against his tanned skin. And his cock… holy hell, it’s amazing. Half hard and hanging between his legs.

"Your turn," he says, the challenge in his voice unmistakable.

I hesitate only for a second before reaching for the hem of my blouse. His eyes never leave me as I pull it over my head and let it fall to the floor. My hands move to the button of my jeans next, eager to feel him against me.

"Slow down," Nate says, crossing the room to stand before me. "Let me."

His fingers replace mine, undoing the button with practiced ease. He lowers the zipper torturously slowly, his knuckles brushing against my stomach. I shiver at the contact.

"Cold?" he asks, a knowing glint in his eyes.

"Not even a little bit," I answer truthfully.

He hooks his thumbs into the waistband of my jeans, kneeling as he slides them down my legs. I step out of them, kicking them aside. His hands trail back up my calves and thighs, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

Standing again, he reaches behind me to unclasp my bra.

It joins the growing pile of clothing on the floor.

His eyes darken as they roam over me, leaving only my panties as the last barrier between us.

Thank god I wore some cute, lacy panties tonight instead of the comfy granny panties I tend to prefer.

"You're even more gorgeous than I imagined," he says, his voice rough with desire.

"You imagined this?" I ask, somehow still capable of teasing despite the fire raging inside me.

"From the moment I saw you." His hands settle on my hips, fingers playing with the edge of my panties. "I imagined every inch of you."

A small, rational part of my brain notes that I should be embarrassed, standing nearly naked before a stranger. But I don't feel embarrassed. I feel deeply desired.

His thumbs hook into my underwear, sliding them down until they too are discarded. Then we're both naked, skin to skin as he pulls me against him. The contact is electric, sending jolts of pleasure through my body.

"Still sure about this?" he asks, his lips hovering just above mine.

In answer, I close the distance between us, capturing his mouth with mine. Yes, I'm sure. More sure than I've been about anything in a long time.

He guides me backward until my legs hit the edge of the bed.

I fall onto the mattress, pulling him with me.

His weight presses me into the sheets, a delicious pressure that anchors me.

His mouth explores my neck, my collarbone, the sensitive spot behind my ear that makes me gasp when he finds it.

It's as if he's mapping my body, discovering every place that makes me shiver.

"Tell me what you like," he whispers.

"I—" The words catch in my throat. I've never been asked so directly before. My previous partners were considerate, but conversations about preferences were so awkward. "I like this," I finally manage.

"This?" His teeth graze my earlobe. "Or this?" His hand slides between my thighs, fingers finding me already wet.

"Both," I gasp. "Definitely both."

He chuckles, the sound vibrating against my neck. "Good start. But I want to know everything that makes you feel good."

His hands are magic—confident and gentle at the same time. He strokes and circles with practiced precision, watching my face for reactions, adjusting his rhythm when he feels me respond. I arch into his touch, surprised by how quickly he's learning my body.

"You're so beautiful when you're turned on," he murmurs, his voice even deeper than before. "I bet you taste amazing too."

My breath catches at his words. No one has ever spoken to me like this during sex. My previous encounters were pleasant but quiet affairs—a few appreciative moans, maybe a "that feels good" here and there. His explicit commentary sends me somewhere I’ve never been.

He moves down my body, his mouth leaving a trail of kisses across my stomach. When he settles between my legs, he looks up at me, his blue eyes darkened with desire. "I want to hear you," he says. "I want to know exactly what I'm doing to you."

I nod, unable to form words as his mouth finds me. My hands fist in the sheets as pleasure shoots through me.

"You taste even better than I thought you would," he says. "So fucking sweet."

The profanity in his praise shouldn't turn me on this much, but it does. Each dirty word from his mouth heightens my arousal, pushes me closer to the edge.

"Do you have any idea how hard you make me?" He slides two fingers inside me as his tongue continues its skilled exploration. "How much I want to be inside you?"

I moan in response, my hips moving against his mouth.

"That's it," he encourages. "Show me how much you want it."

I've never been this uninhibited during sex, never felt so free to express my pleasure. The sounds coming from my throat are raw and desperate.

He pulls away suddenly, and I whimper at the loss. "Don't worry," he says with a smirk. "I'm just getting started."

He reaches for his discarded T-shirt, twisting it in his hands. "Do you trust me?"

I hesitate only for a second before nodding. Something about him makes me feel safe despite the fact that I know almost nothing about him.

"Close your eyes," he instructs, his voice gentle but firm.

I comply, feeling the soft cotton of his shirt being wrapped around my head, covering my eyes completely. The darkness is disorienting at first, but then my other senses heighten—the sound of his breathing, the scent of his skin, the feel of his fingers rubbing my thighs.

"Still okay?" he asks.

"Yes," I breathe. More than okay. I'm floating, anchored only by his touch.

Without sight, every sensation is amplified. The mattress dips as he moves over me. His lips find mine in a delicious kiss that leaves me breathless.

I hear the crinkle of a wrapper. “I’m putting a condom on in case you can’t tell. Just wanted to make sure you know.”