1. Jake

1

JAKE

T his better work.

It has to.

If it doesn't, I don't know what the hell I'm going to do.

I smooth a hand down the front of my suit as I walk into The Belmont, nodding to the doorman who's holding the door open for me. As I walk in, the bustle of downtown falls away, replaced by the calm, cool, luxurious atmosphere of the hotel lobby. Italian marble gleams beneath my feet. A large, modern chandelier hangs from overhead. Soothing cello music whispers through the air, and a sharply dressed receptionist is waiting behind the front desk.

She greets me with a warm, professional smile. "Checking in, sir?"

I nod as I approach. "Reservation's under Magnuson."

She blinks at me, realizing who I am, then inhales a quick breath. "Of course. One moment, please."

I drum my fingers on the stone counter as I wait for her to complete the check-in process. My eyes drift toward the entryway of the hotel's lounge as I wonder if the woman I'm here to meet has arrived yet. I can only glimpse a sliver of the lushly decorated room. All I see is a couple sitting at a high-top, leaning toward each other over their cocktails.

"Here you are, Mr. Magnuson," says the receptionist, pulling my attention back. "You're all set."

I palm the key cards sitting in front of me and slip them into my pocket. Absentmindedly saying my thanks, I turn and start toward the lounge. Jazzy, sultrier music is playing in there, and globe lights glow from their brass fixtures descending from the ceiling.

As I step into the lounge, the full breadth of it comes into view. One scan of the room and I spot the woman I'm here for. She's sitting alone on one of the low, dark purple velvet seats, one plump leg crossed over the other, a thoughtful look on her face as she reaches for the ice-laden, cherry-topped drink in front of her.

The first thought I have when I see her is that she's prettier than her profile photo. Soft brown hair frames her full-cheeked face. She's just as curvy as I hoped she would be. It's reassuring to see that she's the girl I swiped right on an hour ago. I would have been pissed if she'd misrepresented herself and wasted my time.

As I walk toward her, I mull over what to say. It's been a long time since I've done this. I used to be smoother at talking to women. But I haven't had a casual hookup for years. I've been focused on work, consumed by one project after another.

Too consumed, apparently. That's why I'm here.

Up until a few months ago, everything had been fine. I was focused, clear-headed, productive. Life was good: I'd won awards, I'd been on the cover of magazines. I had no complaints.

Then I started noticing things. Little things. Like zoning out for a few seconds during meetings. A slight uptick in my irritability. A strange twinge of restlessness when I was getting dressed in the morning for work.

The more that time went on, the worse it got. And then one morning, as I sat at my desk watching the number of unread emails climb higher and higher in my inbox, I found myself just sitting there, doing nothing.

I wasn't a man who sat at his desk doing nothing.

To be on the safe side, I made an appointment with my physician. I got a full workup done—including a scan, on the chance that whatever I was experiencing was being caused by a tumor in my head. It all came back clean.

When the doc suggested that maybe I was overworked and simply needed a break, I laughed. If he really knew me, he'd know I'd spend the entire vacation thinking about work. It wasn't possible for me to turn that part of myself off for more than a few hours. Thorne Industries was my lifeblood.

So I tried other things. I booked deep-tissue massages. I went on several punishingly long runs. I tried some godawful detox diet that made me even more irritable and foggy-headed.

Then one night, as I was lying awake in bed, feeling like I was close to going out of my mind, it finally hit me.

What I needed was to get laid.

That little epiphany led to opening up an app I hadn't touched in ages. Which led to swiping through photo after photo until I found one that made my gaze linger. Which led to a brief exchange of messages—and, consequently, to my suggestion that the two of us meet here at the Belmont.

As I'm crossing the lounge toward the woman I didn't know existed until an hour ago, that buzzy feeling of being turned on spreads further through me. She's gorgeous, this girl. If taking her up to a hotel room for a few hours of unbridled fucking doesn't get me out of the funk I'm in, I don't know what else will.

"Leta," I say, her name rolling smoothly off my tongue.

She looks up from her drink, then pushes a strand of hair out of her face and rises up onto her feet. Her eyes sparkle as they take me in. "Hi."

"You look nice."

She smiles. "So do you." With a glance toward the elevators, she adds, "Should we…?"

"You can finish your drink first."

"I can bring it up to the room."

Fine by me. I nod and she slings the strap of her purse over her shoulder and scoops her glass into her hand. As we leave the lounge and cross the lobby, she takes two steps for each one of mine.

"This is a beautiful hotel," she says as we wait for the elevator. "I saw a plaque on the wall that said it was built in 1927."

"1928," I correct her.

She laughs. "Either way, I love that it's still here. I don't know about some of the modern changes they've made to it, but at least they didn't change it all."

A semi-amused smile lifts the corner of my mouth as we step into the elevator. I push the button for the top floor. "You have an interest in old buildings?"

"I do. I think the history of buildings is so fascinating. Have you seen the exhibit at the art museum about Brutalist architecture? It's really good."

"Can't say I have."

"Oh, you should go. There's also a really good Hawaiian place just a few blocks away. Their pulled pork sliders are—" she says, finishing the sentence with a chef's kiss.

Is she just nervous right now or is she always like this? Is she going to be chatty the whole time? I didn't initiate this hookup for conversation.

The elevator eases to a stop and we step out onto the highest floor. Leta is still talking about her favorite local restaurants, but when we step into the hotel room, she cuts herself off and draws in a breath. "Oh. Wow. It's gorgeous in here."

She sets her drink down on a table, lets her purse slide off her shoulder, and walks over to the window that looks out over downtown. Then she turns and smiles at me. "I don't usually get to see the city like this. You're probably used to it, though, huh?"

She's right. The view from my office is different than this one, but not any less impressive. But right now I could give two shits about talking about the view.

I cross the room, closing the space between us. Her eyes sparkle at me again as I move close to her, and when I cup a hand around the back of her neck to pull her into me, she leans forward, pressing herself against me.

I've forgotten how good it feels to kiss a woman. I've forgotten how soft and smooth they are. I'm so used to my hands touching paper, glass, wood, leather. My mind sparks with static as our lips suction together.

Yes. This is absolutely what I need .

When I pull my lips off of Leta's, she's breathless. She stares up at me, stunned, looking needy for more. But when I dip my head down again, she presses a palm to my chest and says, "Wait."

I freeze where I am, my lips hovering over hers. "Yes?"

"There's something I need to tell you. Promise you won't laugh."

"You can't ask someone to make a promise like that. Just say it."

She blows out a quick breath. "I've never done this before."

By this , I figure she means hooking up with a man she only just met on an app. "And?"

"No, what I mean is that I'm a virgin."

Is she kidding me? I feel my jaw tighten as I steady my thoughts and decide how to respond. "Was I not clear about what I was looking for?"

"No, you were. You want a night of no-strings-attached sex. So do I."

It's starting to feel like I'm in a dream that doesn't make any sense. I'm in a hotel room with a beautiful woman who wants what I want but doesn't know what the hell she's doing.

"This isn't how you should lose your virginity," I mutter.

"Oh? How should I lose it? On a bed full of rose petals with soft jazz playing in the background?" she says with a laugh.

I wish she wasn't so damn pretty when she laughs.

And, frankly, it annoys the hell out of me that she doesn't realize she's wasting my time.

"You should leave."

Her mouth falls open. "Are you serious?"

"I don't have the time or patience to hold your hand through your first time. And I certainly don't have any interest in being your first. People get emotionally attached from that shit."

" Wow . Okay." She pulls away from me and starts to walk away. "I realize that I should have said something when we were messaging each other. I take full ownership of that. But that doesn't give you the right to be such an asshole about it."

Fuck. Guilt deflates my chest as I watch her hook the strap of her purse over her shoulder. "Wait."

She ignores me and continues toward the door. "It's fine. Have a nice life."

But I reach the door before she can and swiftly block the exit. When I get another look at her face, I can see how angry and hurt she is. Despite my irritation over this situation, I know I could have handled it better.

"What I should have said is that you deserve better than this," I say.

"You're right," she says flatly. "I do. Would you please move out of the way?"

It would be so simple to let her go. It's what I should do. But even though I just told her to leave this hotel room, I don't actually want her to go. Her lack of experience doesn't change the fact that I'm wildly attracted to her. This could be my one shot at fixing myself.

"Don't go."

She folds her arms. "Give me one good reason to stay."

"I'm going to make it up to you."

"By?"

"I think you know how."

"Aren't you afraid I'm going to become emotionally attached?" she asks dryly.

"Not if you assure me you won't," I say.

"You can't ask someone to make a promise like that," she says, echoing my words from earlier.

"Fair enough. But you know that I'm only here for the fucking, so if you start feeling anything other than orgasmic pleasure, that's your problem to deal with."

"Wow. So romantic."

"This isn't supposed to be romantic."

She sighs. "My point is that it wouldn't kill you to be a little less harsh in the way you talk."

I won't lie. I like that she's calling me out on it. She's not intimidated by me, and that's refreshing. I'm deeply intrigued by her. How the hell did she get this far in life without a man sweeping her off her feet?

I wet my lips. "Can we start over, Leta?"

"Sure. I'm all for second chances," she says, although there's a guarded look in her eyes.

"I think you're gorgeous. I consider myself one hell of a lucky guy to be alone with you right now. And if it's okay with you, I'd really, really like to kiss you again."

She tries to fight back a smile. "Are you sure you're okay with kissing a virgin?"

I answer her by leaning in and brushing my lips over hers. When she strains for a real kiss, I give her what she wants. Taking a step forward, I push her up against the nearest wall, pressing her curvy backside up against it and pinning her in place. She sighs into our kiss and cups my face, her hands sweetly searching for the right place. Our kiss deepens and my cock throbs between us, renewed desire making me harder than ever.

I break our kiss to say, "Now be a good girl for me and take off your panties."