14. Declan

14

DECLAN

As we stepped off the elevator and walked down the hallway to the presidential suite, I held my breath, hoping we didn’t run into any staff. If we did, it wouldn’t be the end of the world, but I’d rather avoid it if possible.

Thankfully, we made the short walk with no unwanted interactions.

I opened the door, and Carrie walked in ahead of me. When she passed by me, the faintest scent of fresh berries and flowers drifted through the air. I closed my eyes and found myself leaning forward into it. As quick as it came, it also went. When I opened my eyes again, she was across the room, looking out over the city. There was a wall of floor-to-ceiling windows that looked out over the cityscape.

“Wow, this view is amazing.”

Her hourglass figure was in perfect silhouette. I wanted to commit the frame of this moment to memory.

“Yes, it is.” I could hear the gritty rasp in my own voice.

She glanced over her shoulder, and her head dipped in a shy smile, indicating she knew I wasn’t talking about the buildings that were lit up.

“Would you like something to drink?” I offered.

“Water, please.”

Again, she surprised me. I’d never met a woman who was so refreshingly innocent yet seductively sensual at the same time. It was a paradox I was very eager to explore. I retrieved a bottle of water out of the mini fridge, opened it, and handed it to her.

She took several drinks and then set it down.

“Would you like to listen to some music?”

“Sure.” She nodded.

I synced my phone to the speaker and pulled up my favorite playlist. “How do you feel about nineties R I wasn’t sure by how much, but maybe she wasn’t into that music. “I can choose?—”

She reached out and grabbed my arm again. “No! I love nineties R it’s just something Fatima said…” She glanced down at the floor nervously.

“What?” I wondered if Fatima had told her who I was, and maybe she was wondering why I had told her a different name. I would just explain that I’d used my middle name because I was just tired of being me for the moment.

Her eyes lifted back to mine, and I once again felt myself getting lost in clear aqua pools. “Do you do this a lot?”

“Do what?”

“Take women up to your room?”

“No,” I answered her honestly, although I doubted she would believe me. Most people assumed I was a playboy. Or a fuckboy, like my brother. They didn’t think I could look how I look and have the money I have and not be. The truth was, this was the first time in my life I’d ever even been tempted to touch a stranger—much less kiss one or spend the night with one.

She grinned. “I didn’t think so.”

Again, her response surprised me. I could see that she believed me.

“What exactly did Fatima tell you?” I wasn’t sure what Fatima would have said to cause her to ask that question. Had she told her what I’d shared with her when we were stuck in the elevator? Had she revealed that I had mysophobia and that I suffered from OCPD?

“Um, well, I asked her if I went upstairs with you if I would end up on 20/20 or Dateline . ”

That response was so out of left field that it took me a second to process what she’d just said; even when I did, I wasn’t sure I understood the context. “What?”

“I asked her if I was going to end up on one of those shows.” She paused, presumably for me to get up to speed. When I clearly didn’t, she clarified further, “I wanted to know if I would be safe with you.”

“Oh… Oh, right. Of course.” I hadn’t even thought about that being an issue. I was so caught up in my own shit and everything that was going on in my head. Of course that would be a worry for her, and it absolutely fucking should be. The thought of her going up to a stranger’s room, a stranger who wasn’t me, did not sit well with me. In fact, I wanted to forbid her from ever doing that.

“She vouched for you. She said I would absolutely be safe, but she also said she didn’t think you would… She didn’t think that you would want to do…” She waved her hand between us. “…this. That’s why I asked you if you were going to ask me to your room,” she explained.

“She was right. I’ve never had a one-night stand.”

“Really? Why not?”

“I’m not usually attracted to people right away.” I didn’t tell her that it took me time to be attracted to someone because of my germaphobia. This wasn’t the time or place to talk about that. I didn’t think she’d understand that I’d never had an attraction to someone so intense that the thought of touching them, of kissing them, of having sex with them was more prevalent than my condition. Or that there was even more to it than that because of my OCPD and control issues. But I did explain, “Also, for what I like, I need someone to trust me.”

Her eyes widened slightly. “What do you like? ”

“It’s not anything crazy. I just like to be in control.”

Her cheeks flushed when I said the word control, and she licked her lips. My cock swelled painfully in my pants as her tongue slid along her mouth.

“Control?” she repeated.

“Yes. I need total control. In and out of the bedroom.”

“Total control.” She nodded her head as she sucked in a shaky breath, and the flush on her cheeks darkened. “Okay, just so I know we’re on the same page when you say you need trust but nothing ‘ crazy. ’ Are we talking like Fifty Shades with no red room and light BDSM?”

I couldn’t help but smile at her explanation. I’d never had anyone explain my kink so succinctly before. I needed a dom/sub relationship, no red room, and light BDSM. I needed to be in charge. In control. And sometimes, I liked to tie my partner up and use blindfolds.

Every time this woman opened her mouth, I was surprised by what came out of it. She was a breath of fresh air. She’d taken my world from fifty shades of gray, pun intended, to technicolor in the span of an hour.

And in two days, I was leaving the country for six months. That wasn’t exactly ideal.

“Yes. That’s exactly what I’m saying. Are you okay with that?”

“Yes.” She nodded, and a twinkle of excitement and arousal sparked in her eye. “I’m very okay with that.”

Fuck . I was about to come, and I hadn’t even touched her. I needed to calm down before we started, or this was going to be over in less time than it took to undress her.

“Can I ask you something?” I questioned.

“I don’t have one-night stands either. I mean, I had one if you count hooking up with someone I knew for three months, but that was more of a situationship and?—”

“I wasn’t asking that,” I cut her off, not wanting to hear about any other man touching her. The thought of it made me feel things I was not used to feeling. Things like jealousy and possessiveness. Those were things that were not in my control, and I did not like that. “What did you do when you went back to the bar? I know you didn’t leave your phone.”

She bit the side of her mouth and glanced down at the floor. When she lifted her head again, her eyes met mine, and she licked her lips nervously. The sight caused my dick to swell painfully again. This conversation was torturous foreplay. It was driving me to the edge, and I wasn’t sure if I loved it or hated it. It was a fine line. I hated feeling out of control, but I loved what she did to make me feel out of control.

“I, um, I tipped Lucas,” she admitted sheepishly.

“You tipped him.”

“Yes. A twenty.”

“I told you I took care of it.”

“I know, but you’re rich. No offense,” she rushed to add.

Again, she made me smile for a couple of reasons. First, by inferring that I would be offended by the fact she called me rich. Also, if she believed me to be rich, then why did she think she needed to tip Lucas?

“None taken, but I’m not following.”

She took a deep breath. “I’ve worked a lot of jobs in the service industry. A lot. And, in my experience, the richer the person, the worse the tipper. Lucas told me his wife is expecting, and even if she wasn’t, he deserves to be tipped and tipped well. Tips are what bartenders and servers live off of. They depend on them. I wouldn’t have been able to enjoy myself tonight if I thought he got stiffed. And I wanted to enjoy myself.” Her cheeks flushed again.

As I stared into her ocean eyes, wondering if she was real or an actual angel, a thought struck me like a lightning bolt that knocked the wind right out of me. I thought, if I’m not careful, I’m going to fall in love with this girl.

The reason all of the oxygen left my body was because I didn’t even believe in love, not the romantic, all-consuming love that people talk about in movies and books. Not the love that people used to explain away bad behavior. Not the love that people used as a shield to protect themselves and hurt others. I believed in commitment, trust, and partnership.

She lifted her shoulder in a shrug. “I’m sorry if that upsets you, but I had to?—”

I stepped forward, closing the distance between us. I lifted my hands and cupped her face, then lowered my mouth to hers, claiming her in a kiss. Her entire body froze for a split second before she melted against me. My fingers tightened behind her neck, tilting her head back to give me access to the recesses of her mouth as I slid my tongue between her lips, and when her tongue met mine, it ignited the kiss like an explosion of gunpowder.

Her arms lifted to my shoulders and then to the base of my neck. Her fingernails dug into my skin, and a zinging sensation shot straight to my balls. They tightened against my body, sending a surge of arousal shooting up through my already straining erection. My hands roamed up and down her body, committing to memory the curves. I wanted to touch all of her all at once. I needed to be as close to her as humanly possible. She gripped my shoulders as I deepened our kiss and swallowed her whimpered moans. My cock throbbed heavily, straining as her body writhed against mine. I could feel the pressure building in me as she fisted her hands in my shirt and her chest pressed flush to mine. A surge of release shot up my shaft, and I felt my climax coiling and getting ready to strike. I knew that if I didn’t slow this down, I was going to come in my pants.

Using the last shred of self-discipline I had, I fisted my hand in the back of her hair and broke our kiss, then rested my forehead against hers. Our heated breaths intertwined as we gasped for air. I pressed a soft kiss to her lips, then the tip of her nose, and then a long kiss to her forehead.

“Turn around,” I instructed gruffly.

She did as I asked, and my hands trembled as I reached up and unzipped her dress. That was very unlike me. I didn’t shake. Ever. I knew that there was music playing from the speakers, but all I could hear was the pounding of my heart in my head as I pulled the zipper down her back. Once it was all the way to the base of her spine, I ran both of my knuckles up the bare skin of her back that was exposed. I heard the intake of her breath at my feather-light touch.

When I reached her shoulder blades, I spread my fingers out and slipped them beneath the material, sliding them down her arms. Her dress fell to the floor with a thud, pooling at her feet. I leaned down and pressed my lips to her bare shoulders. A tremor ran through her body. My hands gripped her hips as I continued kissing her neck and then moving across to her other shoulder.

Her breaths were growing more and more shallow every time my mouth made contact with her skin. My fingers skimmed the dip of her waist as they traveled up and then unclasped the back of her bra. I slid the straps down her arms and stood back. Now, she stood in only her lace thong and high heels. I took my time admiring the rounded mounds of her full ass cheeks.

She must have been around five foot seven because, with her heels on, I was only about four inches taller than her. Although she was thin, her curves were dangerous. She was built like a pinup model. Her hourglass shape was accentuated with full breasts and hips and a slim waist.

It’s like someone had created my fantasy woman. She was my walking wet dream. Except that this was real life. This was actually happening.

My hands gripped her hips once more, and I pulled her close to me. She gasped as I roughly tugged her against my straining erection. I kissed the side of her neck as one hand snaked around her waist and dipped beneath the waistband of her underwear. The other moved up her body and cupped her full breast. I teased her with my thumb and forefinger, pinching the puckered tip as I massaged her mounds. The tips of my fingers grazed her pubic hair and then found the swollen nub of her pleasure center. Her hand gripped my forearm as the pad of my middle finger flicked her swollen clit.

We stood facing the glass windows, and I watched our reflections in them. When her body began to tense with signs of her release, her hands reached up and grabbed my arms. Her eyes were shut as she held onto me, anchoring herself against me as her head fell back on my chest.

“Open your eyes,” I growled against her ear.

A soft whimper escaped her mouth as her lids opened, and her gaze met mine in the window’s reflection. As soon as our stare’s locked, her entire body seized with release. Her stomach contracted as her legs began to tremble. I continued my flickering touch as she rode out her climax until the final wave washed over her, and she fell limp in my arms.

I dipped my finger between her slick folds, coating it with her come, then pulled my hand from between her legs and lifted it to her neck. I spread her arousal on the sensitive skin below her ear, then licked it off. Her arousal tasted so sweet on my tongue.

“Mmm,” I growled. “So fucking sweet.”

Her body slumped against me as she recovered from her release. I picked her up, cradled her in my arms, and then lowered her onto the bed. She sat on the edge in front of me, and her eyes lifted up to meet mine beneath her dark, inky lashes.

I stepped back and began to undress. She watched silently. The energy between us crackled with unspoken tension. I could see as I removed my tie that she was curious about what I had planned next. As badly as I wanted to tie her to the bed, I wasn’t going to do that. I didn’t want to push her out of her comfort zone.

“Take your shoes off,” I instructed.

She bent down and unbuckled both of her shoes and slipped them off.

“Now, take off your panties.”

She stood and slid her panties down her legs.

When she stood back up, I told her, “Lie down on the bed.”

Her breathing was shallow as she did as I instructed. She scooted up to the top of the bed and lay down in the center as I continued to undress. Her eyes watched my every movement. When I pushed my pants and boxer briefs down, a flush rose on her chest and cheeks.

I took myself in my hand and stroked myself twice. When I did, she licked her lips. I could tell that she hadn’t done it to be suggestive or seductive. It had been totally involuntary, which made it that much sexier.

As I stared down at a woman I barely knew—a woman I’d met only an hour before—a hunger I’d never felt before overtook me. I was overcome with a primal, visceral urge to claim her, to mark her, to possess her, to make her mine. I didn’t understand it. I couldn’t control it. But for once in my life, I didn’t give a fuck about control.