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Chapter Three

ERIN

I’m a rabbit caught in the middle of the highway at night and he’s the truck with bright, mesmerizing headlights bearing down on me.

I know I should run, get out of harm’s way.

But I don’t.

This man he… he wants me.

My mouth still buzzes with that truth. His kiss has imprinted deep, reaching down to stroke between my thighs. I’m aching deep inside, my clit throbbing.

And I’d love to say my reaction to him has blindsided me, but it hasn’t. I’ve been too aware of his gaze, of him, not to react. But this man wanting me?

I can’t believe it.

Men just don’t.

Some of them specifically cheat to get away from me. And this man, this insanely good-looking and sexy man, is eyeing me—kissing me—like I’m hot.

He wants me.

So, yeah. I’m trapped in his headlights .

His words swirl in my mind, and I lift my head to meet the ice-blue of his eyes. Right now, they’re flames of pale-blue fire and I want to test that heat.

“Staying or going?” he asks again. That low voice does things down deep. I’ve no idea who he is apart from perhaps of Russian descent or one of the countries from that area. He’s pure American in speech, but the foreign words are a giveaway—da, doubly so. It’s the one word I pathetically recognize.

So what I know is he’s seen me naked; he’s perhaps of Russian descent, and he’s very, very rich. Which is nothing at all.

There’s one more thing.

He. Wants. Me.

That’s something.

I swallow, taking in a shaky breath. “Staying,” I whisper.

The world seems to go still as my word hangs in the suddenly charged air.

Oh, holy shit. Am I doing this? Stepping into the fray of one-night stands with the biggest bang possible? A rich man—whose name I don’t even know—just propositioned me, and it's beyond fantasy-tier level. I don’t even do one-night stands.

But there’s something about him. Mesmerizing, compelling. Something that I can’t say no to. When he touched me… I can still feel the pads of his fingers and thumbs on my cheeks. Like he held me with a deep, dark pressure. That’s the effect his gentle touch of skin on skin had.

A brand.

I’m drunk. Not on the booze I’ve had. On him. He’s intoxicating.

And he’s looking at me with a propriety gaze, like I’m his. Like I’m the only woman in the world. Tiny jolts of electric current spark down my spine.

“Staying?” he asks, even though his tone suggests he didn’t think he’d hear a different answer; it’s smug, masculine, triumphant. And it holds pleasures I want.

I don’t do this. And I haven’t wanted to get out there, my wounds still fresh, my self-worth down and sodden on the floor.

Holding my own in the boardroom or a meeting is different than opening up to someone.

Toby was the last guy I thought I’d do that for, and I trusted him with the inner me, the whole jumbled mix of who I am inside, and he threw it in my face, finding it—me—wanting. Finding someone else.

I shove it from my head.

I don’t need that. I want this. Whatever fantasy this man is offering. And he’s right, there’s something extra lascivious about him not telling me his name.

“Staying.”

“You and me,” he says. “Fuck your ghosts.”

“I don’t have any.”

“Lies.” His mouth twists up and the air throbs with unspoken needs and wants. “But leave the prick who made you hesitant at the door, Lyubimaya. ”

How the fuck did he pick up on Toby? I’ve always been a little shy initially, but I’m not the closed-in thing I’ve become.

Toby didn’t like flash or attention going to me.

He liked me as his, at home. And I whittled away my downtime with friends, including Kara, for him.

More time for me, more time to concentrate on my career.

But as I look back, I can see it. How I compromised for him, changed, let his criticisms and words get to me.

I smooth my fingers down my thighs, and I’m not sure what to do. He comes in, brushing me with his body, and I light up, wild, exhilarating. His erection is there, so there and? —

“Why the fuck do you hide your gorgeous form in this shapeless dress?”

“Work?”

“Hmm.”

He’s right. Before Toby, I never would have gotten this dress. I’ve never been sexpot style, but I had style and that’s gone too. How did I not even notice that? He got me down to be the woman he could have there, dull and dutiful and going nowhere, until he decided he wanted something else.

“Just a work dress.”

He comes in close, his mouth touching my ear, his breath warm, and my toes curl with the way it sends delight through me.

“Promise me something, Lyubimaya . Never wear something like this again. You’re beautiful.

And you do shine, despite this. Shine brighter.

You should dazzle rooms. Fuck me, I noticed you when I was knee-deep in bullshit work at the bar.

Imagine if you’re at full potential, Erin…

Actually… I think I like you naked more. ”

My breath catches. I’m so turned on I could burn the room down. And I want this man to rock my world hard. I can barely think, the thoughts melting and dripping through me, turning to want.

With him, I don’t need to worry about cheating. I never thought I had to with Toby either. Although, now, as I look back, I can see the signs. But this man? It’s one night. Him and me and pleasure.

And I’m taking it.

For once in my life, I’m taking what I want.

Maybe I’ve healed enough. The idea shocks me a little. Maybe all the damage done and all the work I’ve applied to me has me here, in a stranger’s hotel suite, saying yes to getting fucked hard.

“You don’t even know me,” I whisper.

He takes my face, caressing under my jaw as he maneuvers me back across the room until I hit something. The window. My whole being is on fire. “I know enough, and believe me when I say that I can have anyone I want. And right now, that’s you.”

“You think you can have me?”

“I know so. But more than that…” He lifts my chin so my mouth is close to his. “When I say I want you, I fucking want you more than anything in this moment.”

The bottom falls from my stomach, and I’m not sure I’m anchored to the earth anymore.

When he says those words, I believe him. There’s no need for sweet-talk. He laid out what he wanted, and I said yes. Not that the words are sweet. They’re visceral. Real.

For me.

I don’t think, I just pull him in and kiss him again, stretching up to put my mouth to his and his hand drops to my neck. He presses me in against the glass, taking his fill, kissing me deep. It’s an invasion, full of gunpowder, sweetness and something irresistibly moreish.

The kiss is full of dark promises of the kind of sex I don’t think I dream about, but I might just start now. Filthy, dirty sex, the kind that fuels a solar system. Our tongues dance and duel and the kiss turns feral. I want that wildness. I crave it.

But he breaks the kiss, and I’d have crumpled if he wasn’t holding me. He turns me and his fingers are deft as they stroke down my back, undoing the zipper. The dress slides off my shoulders, and he steps away, letting it fall to the floor, my bra with it.

He turns me back to him, and his mouth is slightly turned, but not in a smile, and that look is proprietary, a spark to a fuse in me. I want that. In this moment, I want to be his. To be owned. To belong.

“Now, that’s a sight. You have gorgeous tits, Erin.”

To prove it, he ducks down, drawing one nipple into his mouth, his tongue and teeth playing over it, then he sucks and pulls with his teeth and it’s a live wire straight to my clit.

I groan. He transfers his attention to the other one, and I’m wet, moisture soaks my panties and dampening my thighs. My pussy is a mass of tingling need.

Like he can read me, his hands skim low, between my legs.

“Wet for me,” he says, lifting his head, biting my bottom lip. “I’m going to need you spread out.”

He doesn’t wait, just sinks to his knees, and using his teeth, he pulls my panties down.

The sexy stranger pulls them off and tosses them.

Before I can do a thing, he’s there, between my legs, his tongue lapping at my thighs.

I jump, moaning. My insides contract as a tiny bolt of pure pleasure shoots through me.

“Oh my God.”

He looks up. “I haven’t even started yet, darling, my Lyubimaya .”

And then he’s back at it, fingers parting my lips, sliding over my slickness, his tongue moving in, hot, soft, slightly rough. He licks me from my opening to my clit and I shatter.

“Fuck, Lyubimaya , I’m good, but not that good. Who the fuck was doing things wrong with you?”

He doesn’t wait for an answer and dives back in, one hand pushing on my stomach, holding me up.

My legs are pure liquid gelatin, and he’s the only thing that keeps me standing.

And his other hand. Oh, dear everything, his other hand…

He licks and sucks, his teeth working me with gentle precision like he knows exactly what to do.

What buttons need pushing, to keep me up there and to keep me from tumbling once more. And his hand…

He slides it back and forth as he licks and sucks. Palm. Side of his thumb. All the way from the perineum to meet his lips and then… then he pushes two fingers in me.

Before I can explode, because that one movement rockets me right up, he says against my clit, blowing breath on my wet, sensitive flesh, “Don’t come.”

I pant, unable to form words, and I claw at the window, only vaguely registering that’s where I am.

“Don’t come unless I say. If you do, I’ll turn the privacy off the window and I’ll fuck your ass against it so all of Manhattan can see.”

And then he starts to move his fingers, sliding a third one in.

He thrusts, curling his fingers as he rubs my G-spot and sucks my clit.

Every single thing in me is focused on that, on the wild waves that undulate out, held back by at first him and how he changes his tactic, and then when he hits something steady, I have to.