Chapter 4

Four

Kyleigh

The waitstaff takes away our plates, and people get up from the table. It might have been the weirdest dinner I've ever sat through. Everyone was acting as if Rowan Landry wasn't at our table, and he was engaged in regular conversations regarding weather and the best places to eat in Chicago.

"It's weird that everyone is acting like you're a regular Joe," I whisper as the last couple gets up and heads over to another table to chat with some other guests, leaving us alone.

"I think Jack is paying them under the table."

"Really?"

He turns toward me, as he has every chance he's gotten—his arm slung over the back of my chair, his body facing mine. His strong thighs are snug in a pair of slacks. Just get me to room 1498 .

"I was apprehensive about coming, but Jack said he'd take care of it. I didn't ask many questions."

"Who is he? A mob boss?"

His lips tip into a smile. "More like an executive at a cheese company."

"One of the top cheese companies." Every fitting, Mila went on and on about how he works at the biggest cheese manufacturer in the world.

"I think Jack prefers it to be called a dairy company."

Both of us look over at the newlyweds.

"They are a cute couple," I say.

"They'll make the perfect suburban couple who will find happiness in an affluent neighborhood and raise their two kids who will want for nothing except for maybe a dog."

"Can't dirty up their perfect house."

"Maybe they'll eventually cave after the kids do some cute presentation begging for one, but it will be one of those golden doodles?"

I shake my head. "Definitely not a mutt from the shelter."

He chuckles. "Or heaven forbid, a stray."

"They'll live the American dream."

"Date nights every Saturday," he says.

"Home by ten. She'll get ready for bed?—"

"And he'll go down to his man cave and watch?—"

"Porn," we say in unison, facing one another and laughing.

I used to think that could be me someday. I've had a few friends over the years say they're city girls who will raise their kids in the city, but they've all slowly migrated to the suburbs. Now, instead of Sunday brunches with mimosas, I'm hitching a train to attend baby showers and first birthdays.

"The kids will get older, and she'll resent him for not picking up his socks," he says, distracting me from twirling my wineglass and wondering if I'll ever trust in the sanctity of marriage again.

"He'll try to grab her boob when they get into bed, thinking that will turn her on."

He leans closer to me, lowering his voice, and I can't help but inhale the woodsy masculine scent of his cologne. "I promise to tweak your nipples, too."

"Then what are we waiting for?" I laugh.

He continues our game. "She'll stop giving him blow jobs."

"He'll never have perfected getting her off with his tongue."

"Why does he have to be a shitty lover?" He sips his drink, the lime bobbing in the glass.

"A selfish and lazy lover. There's a difference."

He tilts his head. "Well, she's never in the mood."

"Because he stopped romancing her."

"Her buying him a pair of golf shorts isn't exactly romancing him either."

"She hasn't gotten flowers other than her birthday and their anniversary in five years."

"Five years?" His teasing smile is prominent, and butterflies lift from a deep sleep in my belly.

"He's taking her for granted just because she decided to stay home and raise their kids."

"And she regrets the decision to give up her career, despite her daily schedule juggling and organization of the house, she's working at an executive level but getting paid in sticky hands, hugs, and kisses."

I sip my wine then keep the glass in my hand. "She loves the quiet time after she's gotten them to bed. And then he comes home, and she warms up his dinner and watches him eat the meal she prepared three hours earlier while he tells her how bad his day was, never asking about hers."

His head rears back. "You're really painting Jack as an asshole."

"You're not too nice to Mila. She's working her ass off, but she's invisible to him now."

"Truce?" He lifts his glass to mine.

I clink my wineglass to his tumbler. "Sure. I'm sure they'll be different."

His gaze diverts over to them as the DJ announces their first dance. "I hope so, for their sake."

"So, you're not big on marriage?" I ask.

"Not right now. You?"

I think back to this afternoon, seeing my mom's lips on a man who isn't my dad, and my stomach rolls over. I have to suck back the tears that want to form in my eyes. "No."

He lifts his wrist and looks at his expensive watch. "Well, dinner's over."

"That it is." I down the rest of my wine and place my glass on the table.

"I think I've been a good boy." He rises from his chair and towers over me, holding out his hand.

"You've barely touched me," I say, standing so close our chests practically touch. My nipples pebble in response.

"I was afraid I wouldn't be able to stop if I started."

Holy hell, this guy has the lines. We both know the score tonight. I go up to room 1498, we get all sweaty and get one helluva workout. Then we part ways, never to see one another again.

I'm not a prude, I've had one-night stands before. Not a ton. Surely not as many as him. But tonight, I need to get out of my head and not think about the impending implosion of my parents' marriage. Not that I wouldn't be angling to sleep with this man even if my mother wasn't betraying my father.

"You go first. I'll sneak out in a few minutes."

He tips his head down to my neck, a move I'm really starting to love. "Be quick. Knock three times when you arrive."

I rear back and tilt my head up to look into his blue eyes. "Am I not the only woman you gave your room number to tonight?"

His tongue slides across his bottom lip. His eyes are filled with lust. "You're the only one I see tonight."

"If you didn't know already, I'm a sure thing. You don't have to use those lines on me."

"I don't have you in the elevator—yet."

He turns and heads across the room, stopping to talk to a couple. They hug one another, the woman staring at me over his shoulder. They talk for a few minutes while Jack and Mila's dance draws to a close. He approaches them as they exit the dance floor, shaking hands with Jack and pulling him in for one of those man hugs. Then he hugs Mila.

So many people shift their attention to Rowan as he winds his way through the crowd, ignoring me and exiting the ballroom. I wait for the father and daughter dance to begin before I grab my purse and slowly make my way to the exit.

My heels click on the hotel's marble floor as I walk the length of the hall to the elevator. As I press the button, I'm surprised by the lack of people waiting for the elevator, but I guess it's early for a Saturday night. The elevator doors slide open, and I step inside, pressing the button for the fourteenth floor.

Just as the metal doors begin to close, Rowan's large body slips inside. He presses my back to the wall, his hands on my cheeks, and his lips crash down on mine. I make a noise of surprise at his firm, pressing lips.

His hands shift to the bar on either side of my hips, locking me into place and pushing me against the glass elevator wall. I inch up on my toes, my heels slipping out of my shoes to meet him halfway. To feel the strength of him. To smell his addictive cologne. To taste his citrus breath after a night of drinking vodka tonics.

Rowan Landry is every bit the kisser his fangirls believe he is. His calloused hands slide up my body, holding my head in place while his tongue slips past my parted lips, gliding into my mouth.

I melt into his strong hold, my mouth opening for him. He tilts my head slowly, moving me to a better angle, allowing his tongue to dive deeper, and I whimper when his hands leave my cheeks and fall to the small of my back as if he can't get me close enough to him.

I could kiss him for eternity. He's mastered the art of the slow, easy kiss that moves seamlessly to demanding and wanting.

He ends the kiss, and I shift forward, not wanting him to stop, but his lips travel to my jaw, casting small kisses toward my ear. "I can't wait to get you out of this dress."

My hands cradle his waist, sliding under his suit jacket. His muscles are rigid, even through the layers of clothes. Lust pools between my thighs. "How am I going to do my three knocks?"

He chuckles in my ear, igniting a wave of shivers. "Just give me time to ensure the other women I picked up tonight aren't in my room." I draw back, and he chuckles again, his palm gliding down my arm until my hand is in his. "Come on."

As if we're in a movie, the doors open, and we stumble down the luxurious hallway with spiral-patterned carpet and crystal sconces, unable to stop kissing and touching one another. My eyes clock the room numbers as we pass, my stomach filling with a buzzy sort of excitement the closer we get to his room.

Once we're outside room 1498, he stops with his back to the door, pulling me toward him, and his kisses turn me into a wild mess. He's so smooth. Using his free hand, he retrieves his key card out of his suit pocket and presses it to the door to unlock it. I watch the small light turn green, and he pushes the door open for me to enter first.

I raise my eyebrows and walk into his room. "If I find a naked woman in the bed, I'm leaving. You won't have a catfight on your hands."

There's a small black suitcase on the luggage stand, the bed is made, and the bathroom doesn't appear to have been used. I stare at the perfectly made bed and the tall skyscrapers of Chicago lighting up the night sky outside the window.

"Too bad. I was hoping to see a wrestling match." He comes up behind me, his hands landing on my upper arms. His voice is low as if we're not alone.

"Who says you'd be worth me scratching some woman's eyes out?"

"Because your nipples have been hard all night. Unless that was because of someone else." His hands slide around to my back, finding the top of my zipper. "May I?"

I suck in a breath and nod, stepping forward a little so he can unzip my dress.

He lowers my zipper, and it feels as though the sound vibrates off the walls in the quiet room. This is it. I'm going to sleep with Rowan Landry.

Once it's lowered, I hear him suck in a rush of breath, and I really hope it's because he can see the top of my thong.

"Fuck," he murmurs.

I turn around and lower one of my straps then the other, letting the top of my dress fall to my waist, revealing my strapless black bra.

His gaze falls to my chest, and his Adam's apple bobs. "You're so damn gorgeous."

I reach back and unhook my bra, dropping it to the floor.

His eyes light with arousal and his gaze roams my body as he strips off his suit jacket, removes his tie, and pulls his shirt out of his dress pants. Stepping closer, his hands cradle my neck, his thumbs running along my jaw before his lips descend on mine.

It's as if someone shot a starter's pistol because now that we're behind closed doors, our kiss is deeper, more urgent. Each of us takes turns dominating the kiss, and we meet one another with the same intensity.

His hands slide down under my dress, his palms grabbing my ass and pulling me closer to him. He's hard against my stomach, and heat pools between my thighs. I push my dress all the way down to better feel his length.

Once I'm in just my heels and a thong, he steps back, his heated gaze tracing down my body, chest rising and falling with his deep breaths. Watching his avid appreciation for my body makes me ache between my thighs. This. This is what I needed.

I bring my hands to the top button of his dress shirt, but he takes the opportunity to mold his palms to my breasts, his thumbs running over my nipples, and I find I can't wait any longer. My fingers slide under each side of his shirt, and I tug it open, buttons flying in all different directions.

His chest is beyond impressive. I soak in his rippled muscles and the light dusting of hair that leads under his pants. I manipulate his belt, the button of his pants, and the zipper over his bulge. Pushing them down, I find he's wearing a pair of black boxer briefs that stretch snugly around his muscled thighs.

I don't get nearly enough time to admire him because he yanks me closer, his hands grabbing my ass, and I lift, allowing him to pick me up, wrapping my legs around his waist. He carries me to the bed and sits on the edge so that I'm straddling him.

"Keep the heels on," he says before taking my nipple into his mouth.

Fuck, who gave this guy a list of all my turn-ons? I need to make the most of this night because I'll never have it again.