One Night with the Sexiest Man Alive (The One 1)

She unhooked it and let it trail down her arms to her hands, then tossed it over a chair. Her heart was pounding, her mouth dry, she had goose bumps, but she didn’t feel exposed, helpless. She felt insanely powerful because she had the sexiest man in the world on the edge of his seat.

Two strides and her knee brushed his. He widened his legs and she moved to stand between them, threading her fingers through his dark hair when he dropped his forehead to her stomach and wrapped his hands around the back of her thighs.

“Killing me, baby.”

Evidence for that was the thick bulge in his trousers. She pulled his head back. “I’m sure you’ll live, but if you should feel the need to call for help, dial one for Rick. He’ll be in here before you can kick your shoes off.”

He laughed and spanked her butt cheek, not hard, but for the effect. “You want my shoes off?”

He’d be able to move better on the bed without shoes. “Yes please, but nothing else.” She stepped away to give him room and then, realizing he had laces, went to her knee and untied them, slipping first one then the other off his feet.

He palmed her face. “Why don’t you have someone special in your life?”

“An infatuation?”

“A regular lover who understands how to make you feel good.”

She’d simply not had the energy to find one. Or the heart. “I don’t like complications and I have a drawer full of motorized pleasure providers.” They never complained when she worked late nights and weekends.

Her life was horribly unbalanced, all work, no play and she only had herself to blame for that. The price of success had seemed easy to pay until now. Then again, she wouldn’t be here now if she’d not decided to risk things out on her own. She stood, stepped back and put her thumbs to the elastic sides of the G-string and then hesitated. She wasn’t quite brazen enough to turn her back on him and show him her arse as she bent to step out of them.

“No.” He was out of the chair, hands covering hers, stopping

her before she got anywhere. “These are mine.”

Well, he did pay for them, and the way he moved so quickly, and his voice had come out like it was all frayed around the edges, was a massive thrill.

His body brushed against hers, the cool cotton of his shirt, the smooth fabric of his trousers. She gave a shiver of excitement and as he nuzzled her neck, hands spanning her ribs. “Do you trust me enough?”

A stranger, a creation of the media, an icon, a wealthy man who could crush her. A physical man who could hurt her. His word would always carry more weight than hers. He’d done nothing to make her distrust him and given her every chance to end this on her terms.

“I trust you enough.”

“Good.” A lingering kiss to the underside of her jaw. “Do you need anything?”

Toothpaste might be a good idea. Should’ve thought of that earlier. There was a brush, paste and mouthwash in the hotel toiletries kit. He eased her closer, her breasts flattening against his shirt, and took her mouth. A searching kiss, a questing tongue. Never mind. He tasted like warm rum and caramelized sugar. She wanted to bathe in that kiss.

“Go wait for me on the bed,” he said in that tattered, low voice, making her shiver.

There’d been a turndown service while they were shopping. She pulled the quilt further towards the foot of the bed and crawled onto the silky sheet, sitting cross-legged and watching him move around the room in his socks. He changed the lighting, making it low and golden. Closed the curtains and made the room cozy. He put his phone on a charger like an ordinary person would. Hung his suit coat in the closet. Took the navy dress and jacket that she’d left on a couch and hung them too. Rubbed his face as if considering whether he should shave. She didn’t expect the little acts of thoughtfulness. It wasn’t the same showy, extravagance as buying her clothing and a meal, it was tiny courtesies that showed she mattered to him.

The delay could’ve Iowered the temperature, especially as she wasn’t about to watch him undress, instead it made her feel incredibly cared for and insanely turned on.

The last thing he did was tuck a condom in his pants pocket and take his watch off. “I don’t want it to get caught in your hair.”

She didn’t know him, but she did trust him. She could almost forget he wasn’t modern royalty and she’d never see him outside of a collection of pixels again.

“Did I mention I think you’re beautiful?” he said from the foot of the bed. Not a mirage, about to be her fantasy come true. “Let me revise that. You’re stunning. I can’t wait any longer to have you.”

As he climbed up from the foot of the bed, she uncrossed her legs and opened her arms to receive him, her skin pebbling as their bodies came together and her back hit the mattress. He braced on his elbows, one leg between hers, his erection against her inner thigh a solid presence through layers of fabric, his cologne fresh and green.

Body heat muffled by tailoring, she surged into his wandering hands, craving their warmth, pressing her face into his neck, and wrapping the leg he didn’t have trapped over his hip where the leather of his belt was a hard, smooth ridge.

They kissed then. Hungry, deep kisses. Kisses with an urgent agenda. Each one cranking desire tighter. Haydn rocked against her, groaning into her skin, his belt buckle branding her hip bone. Her nipples were upbraided by his shirt, the muscles across his back were taut under her hands and excitement was making her tremble.

When he pulled away, she yelped with frustration. “Settle, impatient girl. We’ve only just begun,” he said from his hands and knees. His shirt was creased and half untucked and his hair was standing on end from her fingers. He was the most divine man she’d ever gotten naked for.

She didn’t have time to protest the gap between them, the loss of his lips, because they landed on her throat, making her arch into the touch. Throat became sternum, became the underside of one breast. She stopped breathing when he rubbed his cheek over her nipple and then tongued across it. It was so sensitive, it hurt. He did the same to the other, and the hurt was the good kind he’d promised.