The Takeover (The Miles High Club 2)

“So it’s a super-private dining room?”

“Precisely.” He continues to look straight ahead.

“How did you know how to find it if it’s so private?” I ask as I play along.

“My uncle’s sister’s husband’s brother’s mother-in-law told me about it,” he replies without hesitation.

“Oh, I see.” I smile and put my head down. This man kills me. The doors open, and he strides down the hallway on a mission and presents a key from his pocket at one of the doors. “This isn’t a private dining room; this is a hotel room.”

He winks darkly. “Semantics.”

“How so?”

He turns the key and opens the door. “You will be eating, and . . . it’s private.” He stands back to let me in. The room is quaint with a king-size bed and a lovely bathroom.

The curtains are drawn, and it’s dark, lit only by the lamps. A platter of food covered with a silver lid and a bottle of champagne are on the table. I turn toward him. “You’ve already been up here?”

“Well, I had to organize your lunch.” He rolls his eyes, as if I’m stupid. “This is a dining room.”

I look around the room. “And you drew the curtains for me?”

“Yes.” He steps toward me. “Didn’t want to scare you with my member. Thought I would ease you back into the saddle.”

I burst out laughing. “Your member?” His lips dust mine, his tongue slowly sliding through my lips as he takes my face in his hands.

Oh man . . . the way he kisses.

I open my eyes to see his are closed. He’s totally in the moment with me. “Do you know how fucking horny I am, Anderson?” he whispers against my mouth.

I smile. “Probably as horny as me.”

“No. I win. I’ve jerked off three times today in preparation for this. You’ll be lucky if I have anything left for you.”

I burst out laughing. “Oh, I missed your sense of humor.”

We fall serious for a moment as our eyes search each other’s. I missed more than his sense of humor, but I’ll never admit it. “I need you naked,” he whispers. His concentration drops to my blouse, and he begins to slowly unbutton it.

My heart is beating so fast as I stand before him. How is this happening? We’ve been in the room together for all of two minutes.

This is lust . . . pure, unadulterated lust.

“What were you thinking about when you jerked off?” I whisper.

His eyes hold mine. “You.”

My heart constricts in my chest as my eyes search his again. I know this is casual and probably sleazy sex. But damn it, it feels like more. It feels like a lifetime since I’ve been in his arms. He undoes my last button and slides my blouse over my shoulder and carefully places it over the back of the couch. His lips go to my neck as he slowly unzips my zipper and slides my skirt down.

He nips my neck with his teeth and then takes my skirt fully off and carefully places it on the chair. “We don’t want any creases in your clothes when you go back to work.”

I frown. How many times before has he had this kind of lunch date?

He knows the drill . . . I push the thought to the back of my mind.

Don’t go there.

He steps back from me; his eyes drop down my body, and I close my eyes to block him out. My nerves are at an all-time high. I know I am nothing like the women he’s used to. “You know . . . ,” he whispers.

I stare at a spot on the carpet—anything to take myself away from the intensity of his gaze on my body.