Yeah…maybe this jumpsuit should be retired from public use.
He lets out a soft chuckle. “Room 1742?”
“Yep.” I tap the keycard against the reader and the door beeps as the light flashes green. I give the handle a tug, pushing it open. “Something funny about that room number?”
“Not funny,” he replies following me inside. “I think your thing about signs is rubbing off on me, that’s all.”
The door shuts behind us and he turns to lock it. I all but stumble into the room, kicking off my heels in the direction of the luggage rack.
It’s a gorgeous room. Daddy never does anything cheap. All the out-of-town wedding guests got upgraded rooms, with family and the groom parties getting suites. This is a corner room, with two walls of floor-to-ceiling windows showing off an amazing view of the downtown skyline and the Elliott Bay. It’s still daylight, but it’s Seattle. The sunshine barely lasted thirty minutes. The sky is overcast now, grey clouds sitting low. It’ll probably storm later tonight.
“Wow…this room is amazing,” he mutters. “I’m glad my sister isn’t seeing this. She’ll think I’m a cheapskate, and I’d never hear the end of it.”
I watch him look around. The bathroom is near the door. There’s a stocked wet bar and a TV stretched along one wall, with a sofa and a pair of pub chairs framing it out. An electric fireplace is on beneath the TV, the fire crackling.
The only other wall space that isn’t windows is taken up by a king-sized bed. There’s enough floor space in the corner where the windows meet for a chaise-like thing. It’s super soft and so comfortable, like laying on a cloud. I read there earlier, wrapped up all snug in my robe, before I left for brunch.
“Can I get you anything?” I say, fishing my phone out of my pocket and setting it down on the charging station by the side of the bed.
He crosses the room towards me, reaching in his pocket. He pulls out his phone too, setting it down on the other charging circle. The screen glows as the battery connects and I spy a picture of him on the lock screen with his arm wrapped around a beautiful girl. She’s got the same dark brown hair and his piercing hazel eyes. Their grins are magnetic.
“That’s Amy?”
“Yeah.” He picks the phone up, showing me the lock screen. “This was us in Japan about a year and a half ago.”
I smile. “She’s gorgeous. It’s weird, right?”
“What?”
“People always like to play that game where you wonder what you’d look like as a boy or a girl. We don’t have to wonder. Harrison is proof I’d make a very handsome man.”
He huffs, setting the phone back down. “Yeah…I guess.”
I sense the sudden change in his mood. “What is it?”
His hand brushes my cheek. “I know your brother’s name but not yours.”
“And I know your sister’s name,” I reply.
“You gotta tell me something.”
I fight the urge to go stiff. “Like what?”
“Anything,” he replies, both his hands now in my hair. For such a big guy, he’s so gentle. “I know what this is.” He kisses my brow. “I know you want us both to walk away clean. I get it, and I’ll play along. But I can’t just…” He sighs, his fingers brushing featherlight at my collarbone. “I need you tell me something.”
I let out a breath, giving him a little nod. He’s right. This pull I’m feeling to him has to be satisfied somehow. We need to honor this connection. I’ll tell him something that matters. I lift a hand to stroke his cheek. Then I trail my fingernail over the pulse point in his neck. I pause, flashing him a sultry smile. “Fine, here’s your something: I could kill you and make it look like an accident.”
He stiffens. “Fuck, is that—are you an assassin? Is this like a Black Widow situation and someone’s about to bust through the window?” He glances over my shoulder towards the double wall of glass.
I laugh, inching closer. “No…but I do look better than her in a leather jumpsuit.”
That gets his attention back on me. “I fucking bet you do,” he murmurs, his lips teasing mine.
“Two more guesses.” I let my hand wander, my fingers tracing down his chest. When I get to his waist, I tug on the bottom of his shirt, slipping my hand inside. His skin is so warm, and the muscles of his stomach are tight. I let my other hand wrap around his waist, slipping into the back pocket of his jeans.
“Fuck—” he hisses, his fingers digging into my hair, tugging my head back. “I’m trying to be a gentleman here, and you’re being really distracting.”
“You’re not guessing,” I tease. “Do you need a demonstration of my skills?”
He groans again. “You…uhh. Oh, shit—”
I slip my hand inside the top of his jeans, my fingers brushing over the marbled skin of his sculpted ass. I need to see this man naked. Need to worship him. Need him worshipping me.
He lowers his face to my neck, breathing me in before he latches on, his lips sucking on my pulse point. My heart flutters as my pussy clenches tight. I don’t know how much longer I can delay this. I need physical foreplay. And then I need to get fucked. Hard.
“Are you a nurse?” he groans out, his hand slipping back inside my top to knead my aching breast.
I sigh, arching into his touch. “Not quite. But you’re getting warmer.”
His breath is hot in my ear, his hands everywhere at once. “Will you take it off?”
The fact that he’s asking instead of telling—or just straight up ripping it off me—has my heart melting like a popsicle. Guys can be Neanderthals when it comes to a quick hookup. In and out. Fast and furious. They think they need to show off, own my body like their owning the moment. I had my fill of that kind of hookup in college.
But I was right about this guy. That’s not his style. He’s sweet as sugar. I’m sure this lethal muscle machine has the capability for violence in the game, but out of uniform he’s a big softie.
I stifle a groan, my mission for tonight clear. I want to unravel him. I want to make him beg, make him crawl. And please, goddess, let him take off these kid gloves at some point and make me crawl too.
“Last guess,” I reply. “Get this right, and you can strip me naked and fuck my pussy with that talented tongue.”
He shudders as he sinks against me, grazing his teeth up my neck.
“You like that plan?” I tease, my fingers combing through his hair. My other hand is still inside the top of his pants, holding him to me. “Are you hungry for my pussy? You want a taste?”
“Fucking starving,” he replies, his large hands fumbling with the zipper at the small of my back.
“Then what am I?” I whisper against his lips, biting down lightly on the bottom one.
He hisses, jerking down the zipper until he’s exposed my ass to the room. “Ungh—doctor. Are you a doctor?”
I smile up at him. “Good boy. Now you know something about me.”
He blinks at me, his lips wet with kisses. “Wait—seriously?”
I nod.
His face splits into a grin. “You’re a doctor? Like a real one?”