Chance (The One More Night Series) (4 page)

“I saw you flirting with him.”

“No, you didn’t.  You saw me
talking
with him.  That’s what you saw.  He was the one flirting with me.  There’s a difference.  I don’t flirt on the job.  Hell, I don’t flirt period.  After you saved my ass from flipping that tray into the air, did I flirt with you?  Even once?  No, I didn’t.  In fact, it was just like it was with Steve—
you
flirted with
me
.  Am I wrong here?”

His face softened.  “You’re not.”

“Look,” I said.  “I don’t do possession.  If that’s what you’re about, I’m out.  I’m not interested, particularly after what Steve just insinuated.  I’m not after your money, which I guess you probably have plenty of since you were invited here tonight.  But I have no interest in it.  You were very kind to me earlier and that caught my attention and interest.  But who are we kidding?  I’m not part of your crowd.  I should leave.”

“This isn’t about possession.”

“Then what’s it about?”

He reached for my hand, and looked hard at me.

“Am I the only one who can feel this?” he asked.

“Are we back there again?”

“Just answer me.”

He took my other hand in his, and closed the distance between us.  Then, when my nipples, now taught with anticipation, brushed against his jacket, I nearly gasped.  He was so close to me now, and his hands were so warm, that I felt the same jolt I’d felt with him when we first met. 

What was it with this man?  What was it about him that made me want to turn into a silo of fire?  None of it made sense.  He was standing so close to me, he sent every current running through my body into an impossible jet of trembling nerves. 

“You don’t feel anything between us?” he asked quietly.

“I—”

He pressed a button and the elevator began to lift.

“Whether you’re ready to admit it or not, I can tell you feel something.  I know that you do.  I can see it in your eyes, Abby.  I can feel it in how you’re trembling.  You’re as unhinged as I am.  So, tell me.  I want to hear you say it.  Do you feel what’s happening between us right now?”

Before I could answer, he moved his hands up the length of my arms, and pressed me against the elevator wall.  It was enough to make me lose my composure.  I didn’t understand what was happening between us now, but for whatever reason, I wanted it.  The good girl who always said no wanted him on top of me and inside of me.  I was so attracted to him, I wanted him more than I’d imagined.

When he dipped his head and moved in to kiss me, he did so with exquisite care.

He kissed my bottom lip first—bit down gently on it—and then he tasted it with his tongue before kissing me fully on the mouth.  With his lips still against mine, he murmured something that I couldn’t quite hear, but that nevertheless sounded like a primal growl, one that was almost guttural.  Indescribable.

Delicious…

I savored the sensation, especially when his left thigh closed against my own.  I could feel his excitement throbbing against me, which fried my nerves even more than they already were.  Having this man—this beautiful stranger—so near me was unbearable, yet weirdly thrilling.  I was going headlong into my first one-night stand with a man named Chance.  Of course I was.  Why wouldn’t I be?

When he finally went in the for the kill and kissed me so deeply that the bottom of my core dropped away from me, there was a moment when my heart caught in my throat and I couldn’t breathe.  But there was no tearing myself away from him now.  I needed to breathe, and he was the oxygen in the room.

I pulled on his jacket, tugged him toward me, and our tongues probed into each other’s mouths with a sort of heat that left me feeling dizzy with expectation, loose with need, and craving something more. 

When our lips parted, it was with a gasp that came from me, not from him.  He was the one who was in control of this now.  He was the one who was running the show.  When I finally did catch my breath, he only took it away from me again by reaching out and cupping my breasts with his hands.  When he started to tease my nipples by caressing them lightly with his thumbs, I thought for sure that I was going to burst from the pleasure he was giving me.  I swallowed hard and met his vivid, light blue eyes with my own.  In them, I saw pools of darkness that I understood at once.  He was as caught up in the moment as I was.  The darkness I saw was hunger.

I wanted to touch him.  I wanted to feel his body just as he was feeling mine.  And so I placed my hands on his chest, and felt the sculpted muscles that lay beneath his jacket and shirt.  I could feel his heart pounding against my palms—and then I closed my eyes as he pulled me toward him and claimed me again with his mouth.  When one of his hands reached down and gripped my ass, suddenly we were one.  I opened my eyes to look at him, and saw that he was looking directly at me.  He kissed me once more on the lips, and it was electrifying. 

“
That
,” he said in my ear.  “Did you feel that?  Because
that’s
what I’m talking about.”

He stepped away from me, and I tried to compose myself.  “Are you serious?  Every woman in this hotel just felt that.  In fact,
that
just reverberated off walls, blew out windows, rolled down hallways, and likely took the roof off of this hotel.  Yes, I think it’s fair to say that I felt that.” 

“I need to ask you a question,” he said.

“What question?”

“Are you seeing anyone?”

“Of course not.  I wouldn’t be doing any of this if I were.”

“I meant no offense—it was just a question.  We don’t know each other.  I just wanted to know before we went any further, OK?”

“All right.  But I need to ask you the same question.  Are
you
seeing anyone?  Because if you are, I also can’t go through with this.  I couldn’t do that to another woman.  I would never want to be the cause of someone else’s pain.”

“I’m not seeing anyone.”

“Screwing or seeing?”

“Neither.”

“I find it hard to believe that you’re not sleeping with someone.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re so smooth.  Because you hop around from city to city.  You’re too good at this to not have other women on the side.”

“Well I don’t,” he said with an edge.  “I’m too busy.  I don’t have time for those kinds of distractions, and I’m not a liar.  And frankly, I find it hard to believe that you’re not with someone.  You’re beautiful, Abby.  Why wouldn’t I have the same concerns?”

I didn’t respond.  He didn’t know me.  It was a fair question.

“Would you like more?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“Good,” he said.  “But first, let me do this.”

Without warning, he turned away from me, glanced at the light that indicated which floor we were approaching, and pressed the button that marked the floor just above the one that was lit.  Immediately, the elevator started to slow.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“Buying us time.”

In horror, I turned to my left as the doors started to open.  What if somebody was standing beyond them?  Perhaps leaving for a late night on the town?  I glimpsed myself in the mirror across from me, and saw that my cheeks were in full flush.  Worse, one of my breasts was nearly exposed.  I quickly straightened my dress before the doors fully opened—only to reveal an empty hallway stretching before us.  There was nobody there.  Everything appeared to be quiet.

For now….

He moved closer to me, his eyes sweeping over my body.  “Now touch me,” he said.  “Touch me where
you’d
want to be touched.”

“With the doors open?”

“That’s right.”

“But that’s dangerous.  We could get caught.”

“What’s wrong with a little danger?”

I’d been raised to think that there was plenty wrong with it, but I shoved that thought aside and did as I was told.  Despite the fact that, at any moment, someone might leave their room and catch us, I touched his dark, wavy hair, and ran my hands through its thick silkiness.  Then I moved down to his face, and grazed my fingertips over his cheekbones and mouth until they met the cleft in his chin, his throat—and finally his chest. 

I lingered there for a moment, and marveled at how fit he was.  This was a man who worked out often.  His muscles pressed against his shirt.  I reached for his nipples and gave them a hard pinch, and was delighted when he let out a low groan. 

I wasn’t about to stop there.  I slipped my hands across his muscled torso, smoothed them down his arms, and felt him respond to my touch when his biceps tightened.  Before going for his crotch, I flashed my eyes up to meet his, but saw that they were closed and that he was waiting for something more.  And so I cupped his bulge in my hand, felt how large he was, how heavy and rock hard he was, and when I did, his eyes opened.  With a mischievous smile, he licked his lips, and then steadied himself against the wall while I stroked his length.

He’s too big
, I thought.

You wanted something small?

Not exactly….

Then enjoy it.

I did. 

But then the elevator doors slid shut, and Chance reached out to press one of the buttons. 

As the elevator began to lift again, I fell back into his arms as he kissed me with such purpose, it was as if he intended to eradicate me, layer by layer, until nothing was left.  When I looked at him, I could see the desire in his eyes, which was palpable.  He lowered his hand to his side and pressed it against my inner thigh.  Quickly—so quickly that it alarmed me—he started to lift my dress. 

“Here?” I asked.

“Why not here?”

With a roughness that excited me, he found the edge of my panties, gave them a tug, pulled them down, and knelt in front of me.  When he did, my mind went blank.  Time seemed to stretch, speed up, and slow all at once.  Was this really happening?  I felt disoriented—and deliriously turned on.  He buried his face between my legs, and I felt his tongue press against me as my head arched back in a rush of pleasure.

“Take me,” I said.

“How?”

“I don’t care.  I just want you.”

“Tell me how….”

“However you want.  Please.”

“The elevator is going to stop soon….”

“Stop teasing me.  Just do something.”

“Like this?”

Again, he brushed his tongue so lightly over my clit that it was a kind of agony.  Unable to stand it and wanting more, I grabbed a fistful of his hair and pulled him toward me until his tongue slipped inside of me.  In that moment, at the very instant my body came alive, the lights in the elevator seemed to dim.  I let go of his hair, cupped my full breasts in my hands, and squeezed them.  It was then that I saw, just above us in the corner of the elevator, a tiny red light trained down on us.  It was a camera—it had to be—and it was concealed behind a bulbous orb of two-way glass.  We were under surveillance—of course we were.  Somewhere in the building, we were being watched.

Before I could react, the elevator started to slow, and as it did, he pulled away from me, lifted my panties into place, and then fixed my dress.

“We’ll finish this in a minute,” he said.

I was too caught up in the moment to speak.  Too high from what had just happened to find any words.  Instinctively, I checked my dress to make sure that I was covered. 

When the elevator doors slid open, he looked at me.  “Would you like that drink now?”

“I’m no longer interested in it.”

“Why’s that?”

“You know why.”  I nodded toward the open doors.  “So, let’s go.”

CHAPTER FIVE

We stepped out of the elevator and into an empty, beautifully appointed hallway decorated with gilt-framed paintings and several mahogany tables.  On the tables, were vases overflowing with freshly cut peonies, which smelled intoxicating to me, and expensive-looking lamps that cast soft pools of light onto the intricate, gold-and-red carpet that stretched ahead of us, seemingly into infinity. 

Given the sheer distance between each door we passed, it was clear that we were indeed at the penthouse level and that the suites here were enormous.

“I’m the last one on the right,” Chance said as he motioned toward the far end of the hall, which, in my current hormonal state, looked as if it was a good mile away from us.

Despite the hallway’s width, I didn’t walk beside him—instead, I walked just behind him so that I could watch and admire him.  There was nothing effete in how he carried himself, nothing that suggested that he’d been trained since youth to project a certain kind of refinement.

Tonight’s charitable event had been populated mostly by society, but I had worked enough of these parties to know that there always was a balance between the old money and the new.  And because I’d come from poverty myself, it was easy for me to discern who was who. 

Chance was new money.

I could tell because he didn’t move as if he was born into money—he wasn’t rigid.  Nothing about him seemed uptight or stiff.  On the contrary, he was loose.  He walked with an appealing sense of rugged confidence that came from having achieved something great in life.

I found it wildly attractive.  The man reeked of raw sexuality, and it gave me pause.  Who was he?  Did he own his own business?  A corporation?  Had things recently taken off for him, and was it true that he didn’t have time for women because he was too busy?
 

It was possible.  I was a voracious reader of the
Times
, and I knew that for some people who were in the right place at the right time, becoming a multi-millionaire could indeed happen quickly.  There was so much innovation happening in the world right now—and so many major corporations eager to purchase those innovations so they could keep their rivals at bay—it seemed as if I read about huge and unexpected success stories every week.

Did that happen to you?
I wondered.
  Did you begin some start-up that was snapped up before somebody else could buy it?