The Encounter

The cab stops as the bright lights of the hotel flood in. “Thank you,” Jax says. I’m not sure if it’s to the cab driver or valet who’s opened the door, but I follow.

“Mr. Saddington.” The valet smiles and looks at me. It dawns on me that we never even introduced ourselves. I mean, at first, I didn’t want him to remember me since he’s always bugged me, but now…

“What’s your name?” I scoot out as he waits for me.

Narrowing his eyes as if he knows that I already know, he says, “Jax.”

His hand is at my lower back, branding me with his touch. And I try to focus on walking and not on my stomach, which is in knots, while waiting for him to ask my name. But we keep walking, and he says nothing. Nothing. I was already flushed; now my cheeks are on fire. I try to breathe and not snap out. What about my name, asshole?

Common manners—I know he has them. The man finger fucked me on the corner of PCH and he can’t ask my name? I’m kind of mortified, but I’m going with pissed since that makes me feel better. Jax Saddington not wanting to know my name is a good thing, I remind myself, exhaling. Makes it easy, not humiliating. He’s exciting and that’s it. Let’s be honest: I’m in zero condition for anything more than this.

Sex. I only want sex. No strings, no drama, just nameless people, connecting for one night. Christ, I sound like I’m pitching a movie, and a bad one at that.

“Can I get you a drink?” His voice is strong and commanding. I look around. We’re in his room now, and I’ve been so in my head I don’t remember getting here.

“Yes, please.” Again, I marvel at how calm I sound.

“You okay?” Then again… whatever. Does it matter what he thinks? No.

I smile as I clear my voice. “Absolutely.”

He grins and those damn dimples that I’m starting to hate distract me as he pours bourbon into two glasses.

“Come here.”

Fuck. Those words alone make me wet. “Okay.” I walk to him, his eyes watching every step until I’m right next to him. His smell of spice and whiskey makes me reach for the glass.

“You want to toast?” He’s too close, or I am. Why didn’t I give myself some room? I can’t think. Words have deserted me, and I lock eyes with his and shake my head no.

His hand pulls me closer and I think I hear him say, “To one night.” Then we both shoot it. Smooth caramel spice drifts down my throat. I don’t even feel the burn on my tongue as his mouth takes mine and I’m caught.

Enslaved.

His tongue, much like his hands… is magic. The glass slips from my fingers. If it breaks, I don’t hear it. All I can do is wrap my hands in his thick hair and let him take me. Our tongues tangle. I close my eyes and simply feel all that is him.

He lifts me up and my legs wrap around him as he walks. I’m spinning, and not because of the booze. This is him. I’m cocooned in his sphere of power, and suddenly I know what a true addiction is.

My eyes bolt open as my ass plops on a chair. It’s leather and slightly cold. My nails dig into the armrests.

“Take your dress off, beautiful.” His voice is pleasant, but his eyes, which have darkened, transforming from turquoise to a deep emerald green, penetrate me. The room has giant windows that I assume face the ocean. Lights from boats and the rest of the hotel twinkle outside. I shimmy out of my sweater coat and lift my hips, slipping off my dress.

He watches. The room almost crackles with my need for him to touch me. I hold the dress over my breasts.

“Eyes,” he says, his voice deep and commanding.

When I look up at him, disapproval drips from his lips. “Drop. Your. Dress.” He’s intimidating, and I shiver at his quiet authority. Until now, I didn’t realize I was shielding my chest. I guess Phillip’s birthday gift is still stinging.

Swallowing, I tell myself it doesn’t matter what he thinks, but it does.

One night.

I let go of the dress and black silk falls to my heels. His eyes are hooded, but I know he’s staring at me, all of me.

My nipples harden as I wait for his next move. The only sound in the room seems to be my own harsh breathing until he says, “Now the panties. And when you’re done, spread your legs.”

God. He’s nasty, crude, and I’m so wet I’m almost embarrassed. Jax takes off his suit jacket, tossing it on the couch. I lick my lips and watch him unbutton his sleeves and roll them up.

Holy fuck.