Sexy.
The complete package.
Don’t go thinking all crazy and shit. This is a one-night thing, remember?
Yeah, he needed to focus on that. Or focus on nothing at all, which was the direction he took while in the elevator. He signed damp cocktail napkins, the back of a woman’s shirt, took an endless stream of photos and put on the full Noah Wilde performance with his fans in the elevator. Until finally they were the last ones standing.
“Wow, that was crazy,” Natalie said the moment the elevator doors slid shut. “Is that how it is with fans all the time when you’re in public?”
“Pretty much.” He leaned against the wall of the elevator, pulling her into him. She went willingly, their hips colliding, his arms slipping around her slender waist. They only had a few floors to climb, but he was going to make the most of it. “All I could think about was getting you alone.”
“Really?” She sounded surprised. Silly woman.
Nodding, he reached out and touched her cheek, let his fingers drift across her soft skin. “I was smiling and signing my name on all sorts of things, and you were the one on my mind.”
Her plump lips parted at his admission, she looked ready to say something—most likely a protest—and he kissed her, swallowing whatever she might’ve said. The elevator dinged at the precise moment he slipped his tongue inside her mouth, and the doors slid open with a smooth whoosh.
Noah broke the kiss first and gently pushed her away, never letting go of her hand. “Come on.”
She followed him out of the elevator and down the hall, her trembling fingers caught in his. She was nervous, he knew this, and he wanted to do whatever he could to calm her down. Make her realize that he was just as invested in this night as she was.
He didn’t have the penthouse suite—Declan snapped that up, the lucky bastard—but the suite he had for the weekend was swank. He inserted the key and opened the door, stepping aside to let Natalie in. She walked by him, her delicious scent lingering in the air, and he slowly shut the door, turning the lock hard. It sounded extra loud in the otherwise quiet of the suite.
Natalie turned to face him at the snap of the lock and he flicked on a lamp, bathing the living area in soft golden light. She watched silently as he moved about the room, setting his wallet and phone on a nearby table before he went to the floor-to-ceiling wall of windows and yanked back the curtain, revealing the Las Vegas skyline.
“It’s beautiful,” she breathed as she approached the windows and stared out into the night.
“Not as pretty as you,” he said, moving so he stood behind her. He settled his hands on her stiff shoulders and bent his head so his mouth was at her ear. “You’re tense.”
A little shudder moved through her when he gently squeezed her shoulders. “I’m nervous.”
He appreciated her honesty. Most women played it off. Hell, most of the women who wanted to get with him fucked him only because of who he was. What he represented. Noah Wilde, resident crazy front man of a rock band. They could give a shit about the man beneath the façade. And that was usually the way he liked it.
Never let them get close. They’ll only hurt you in the end.
That had always been his motto.
“Don’t be nervous,” he murmured, dropping a kiss to the top of her ear. She tilted her head to the right on a sigh, giving him better access and he took it. He kissed along the delicate shell of her ear, the elegant column of her neck, the spot where it met her shoulder. Soft sighs escaped her at every touch of his lips and he knew she was enjoying this.
But she was still nervous, so he knew he had to approach her gently. One wrong move—one overly aggressively move—and she might run.
“Easy for you to say,” she teased, making him smile. “I bet you do this sort of thing all the time.”
Actually, it had been a while since he’d been with a woman. All the band drama had been getting to him and he’d closed himself off from everyone and everything.
“Do you really think I’m that much of a man-whore?” He slipped his arm around her waist and splayed his hand across her stomach. Yes, he had the reputation. Yes, he never denied he was a man-whore. But he wasn’t as bad as the media made him out to be. Not even close.
Natalie stiffened within his embrace. “Well…aren’t you?”
“Don’t believe everything you read in the gossip mags, Nat.” He nuzzled her cheek with his nose, inhaling her addictive fresh scent. Did she wear perfume? He didn’t think so.
“Are you saying your reputation is exaggerated?” Her breath hitched when he slid his hand higher, his thumb grazing the underside of her breast. He didn’t think she was wearing a bra. Probably couldn’t with the style of her dress, and he was perfectly okay with that. Easy access and all.
“I’m not as bad as they make me out to be.” He tightened his arm and turned her around so she faced him. “Or do you want to have the bad boy rock star fantasy tonight? What do you want, Natalie?”
She stared up at him as he cupped her face, drawing his thumbs across her cheeks. “I-I just want you, Noah. That’s all.”
Her simple request humbled him. Nearly brought him to his knees. He swooped in and kissed her, tasting her gasp, swallowing her moan. She opened to him so easily, her lips parting, allowing his tongue entrance and he took over the kiss, possessing her, drowning in her. He never wanted to stop kissing her like this, standing in front of a giant window with pretty much the entire city of Las Vegas spread out before them, illuminating her features so she appeared gilded in gold and silver.