Taming Reid
Автор
J. Margot Critch
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CHAPTER ONE
REID REXFORD RAISED the glass to his lips and tasted the amber liquid it held. Up until that moment, the tres leches cake had been the best thing he’d tasted that night, but his cleaned plate lay forgotten on the table next to the unlabeled bottle of rum that Gemma had brought. They were preferred customers at the Cuban restaurant owned by his close friend, Arlo. And for a good deal on Rexford Rum for his restaurant, Arlo gave them a great table every time they came in and allowed them to do such things as open their own bottle of Gemma’s newest concoction at their table.
Reid took another small sip, and this time held it in his mouth, rolling the rum around, savoring the intricacies and the layers of the flavor on his tongue. It was smooth, delicious. He tasted it again, as his brother Quin did the same, this time taking a moment to inhale over the rim of the glass, pulling the scent into his lungs—it was dark, sweet, but spicy, with notes of cardamom, cinnamon, and something else he couldn’t yet place. It was absolutely exquisite. He winked at his sister. She had really outdone herself this time.
“Well?” Gemma asked, her eyes wide with anticipation for their opinions. “How does it taste?”
He shrugged casually. “It’s pretty good,” he said, putting the glass down. A clatter from the kitchen briefly muted their conversation.
Reid looked at Quin, who drank from his glass again and also put on a casual demeanor in an attempt to needle their younger sister.
Gemma’s smile dropped. And Reid knew her well enough to tell that their nonchalance clearly annoyed her. “Come on, guys,” she said. “This is one of the best batches I’ve ever made, and you both know it. What do you mean, it’s just good?”
Reid laughed, and put a hand on her shoulder, shaking her lightly. He knew how important the quality of her rum—and his opinion of it—was to her as she’d meticulously worked on the recipe for months, perfecting the proper blend of spices, making sure it would be just right before it had even been mixed, distilled and barrel-aged. The bottle they were tasting was a product of her love and dedication that had been more than five years in the making. “We’re messing with you, Gem. It’s delicious! You’re right—one of your best yet.”
She smacked his shoulder, took the glass from his fingers and sipped it herself. His sister’s satisfied smile spoke volumes to Reid. Gemma, a perfectionist, who was rarely fully satisfied with the finished product, was proud of her newest rum.
“How’d you make it?” Quin asked, pouring a little more from the bottle into his glass.
“The short answer is I cut the cane sugar with honey and then added more later in the process, and I used those cognac barrels I picked up in France last year. Plus a few more special touches here and there.” She winked.
“Honey?” Reid started calculating cost per bottle formulas in his head as he swirled the glass in his hand, watching as the legs of the liquid—thick and rich—trailed down the sides. “Sounds expensive,” he noted with a frown, recalling the recent high price of honey.
“Probably,” she said, with a shrug. “But you’re the numbers guy, I’m just the cook.” She wasn’t just the cook; she was their master distiller. She’d trained for years—since before she was even legally allowed to drink rum—to be as good as she was, and Reid was more than proud of her. It might have been his business savvy that had elevated Rexford Rum Distillery, and Quin’s marketing expertise and networking that had had made the exclusive luxury brand popular and well-known, but it was Gemma’s rum that had put them on the map, making them a premium spirit to be found in the collection of every rich and powerful man and woman in the country. “But, if it helps,” she continued, “it’s specialized enough, given the fact we only had six cognac barrels, that it’s a very small batch. We can raise the price even more. Put it in a funky bottle, make it a luxury item. Drive up demand. You know our customers; they’ll want it if they think the next guy can’t get it. Quin will put the perfect spin on it in marketing, and we’ll make oodles of money.”
“Solid plan,” Quin said, draining his own glass in celebration with a smile on his face.
Reid knew they were both correct. “All right, email me the ingredients and quantities you used, and I’ll start crunching some numbers tomorrow.”
“I’m taking tomorrow off, so I’ll get it to you first thing on Monday morning.” When he looked at her, she raised her hands. “Dude, I work enough hours during the week that I can take a Friday off every once in a while. You should do the same.”
“Fine.” He turned to Quin, always in business mode, even when they were supposed to be having a quiet, leisurely dinner together. “We’ll get started on a marketing plan, and we can launch in the summer.”
“On Monday,” Quin clarified.
“So, you’re all taking Friday off, then?”
“Yup. Thursday night is the new Friday night.”
“Fine. On Monday,” Reid agreed, knowing he wouldn’t win the battle.
He turned back to Gemma, already formulating a game plan. “How will the batch have aged by summer?”
“It’ll be perfect.” She plucked her phone from her small purse and smiled when she looked at the screen. “I’ll send you that list first thing in the morning, but for now, I’m out of here.”
“You have plans?” Reid asked.
“Yeah, I have a date. Unlike you, I do have a life outside of rum, you know. I haven’t given up on all of my wild ways,” she said with a wink.
The allusion to their past lives made Reid cringe. In their younger years, the three of them had spent a lot of time at nightclubs, at parties, while their parents worked at making Rexford Rum, the business that had been in their family for generations, a well-known brand. But overnight, their lives had changed with the death of their mother, and their father had stepped back from business. It was then that Reid and his siblings had realized it was up to them to keep the business going if they wanted Rexford Rum to stay alive. He’d had the most complete turnaround, abandoning his raucous lifestyle, settling down, getting married—as well as that had worked out for him—while his brother and sister, as devoted to the business as they were, still managed to find lots of time to have some fun.
“And you know what, I’m wondering why you guys don’t have anything lined up for yourselves tonight.”
“Who says I don’t?” Quin shrugged a shoulder. “The night is still pretty young for me, lots of time to round up some female company.”
“You’re such a romantic,” Gemma said, rolling her eyes.
Reid felt his sister’s gaze settle on him. “How about you, big brother? Any hot plans tonight?”
“Gemma—” He’d planned on crashing on the couch with a drink and watching the game, but the unlabeled bottle of rum on the table had changed that. The thought of heading down to the office and planning the new release and cost calculations had his fingers tapping on the table. When it came to passion, the distillery had replaced everything else in his life.
“I know, you’re busy,” she countered, using the words he’d said many times against her. She pursed her lips as she studied him and tilted her head to the side. “When was the last time you were on a date?”
When the urge struck him, which, honestly, wasn’t often, Reid had no problem finding women, those who, like him, weren’t interested in a drawn-out affair, but an actual date? Where he sat across from a woman, and they talked and got to know each other? He poured another finger of rum into the short glass and brought it to his lips. “You know when,” he said, grimacing behind his glass, before he took a large swallow.
He could feel his sister’s exasperation at him. “That was over two years ago,” Gemma told him—like he didn’t know—shaking her head. “Carolina did a number on you. But you can’t be alone your entire life because of one mistake.”
He looked at her. “That one mistake almost cost us everything. I’m not going to let it happen again. So could you just get off my back already?”
“That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t see any women ever again,” she told him. When he said nothing, she kept going. “Two years, Reid. What happened wasn’t your fault. Since that whole thing with Carolina, we’re all a lot more careful with our information. She’s the one who got into our databases. She’s the one who turned the information over to our competitors. You made a mistake in trusting the wrong person. We all did. It’s time to move on.”
“I’m not interested,” he insisted. “I’ve got enough going on with the business. I’ve completely ruled out any type of relationship. Where would I find the time to devote to another person?”
Gemma’s sigh was one of impatience. He knew because he often heard it in his direction when they argued about that very subject. “Fine,” she said, standing. “I’m out of here. I’m busy, too, Reid, but I find a little time for a social life.”
“Have a good night,” Reid told her, dismissing her, not wanting to discuss his social life—or lack thereof—any further. “Be safe.”
“You know I will.”
“Don’t forget, we have a party to prepare for next week,” Reid told her. “There’s still lots to do.” Every year, they threw a party for their employees, industry insiders, and preferred customers. This year, however, they’d decided to go bigger. They’d spent the entire year planning a huge party at a hip beachside rooftop bar in South Beach. They’d shelled out huge cash for one of the country’s most popular DJs, and in addition to their regular guest list, they invited celebrities and members of the press. More Quin and Gemma’s doing, the party wasn’t his kind of scene, but he was hoping to make some serious connections and it would help put Rexford Rum on the map.
“I haven’t forgotten, Dad,” she said, rolling her eyes, earning herself a glare from Reid. She raised her hands in surrender. “Believe me, no one is forgetting about work, or the party.” She kissed him on the cheek. “Love you guys. Bye.”
“Make good choices,” Quin called out to her, and that earned him a middle finger over her shoulder as she made her way outside. When she was gone, Quin pointed a finger at him. “Speaking of the party, we’ve been meaning to talk to you about this—at least try to look like you’re having fun. You don’t want to be mistaken for one of the bouncers with that serious look you normally have on your face.”
“Fine, I’ll smile more. Will that make you happy? But sorry, I won’t have time to schmooze with celebrities. Some of us will have to make sure things are running smoothly.”
“That’s why we hired a very capable event planning company,” he told him. “Who we’re paying very well to make sure everything is okay. I know it isn’t normally your scene but promise me you’ll have fun. It’s going to be great for us.”
“Fine, I’ll have fun at the party. I just hope the cost will be worth it to the business.”
Quin sighed and poured himself some more rum. “It will be. We went through the projections ourselves. With the press coverage and the online buzz we’ve already created...dude, it’s going to be amazing.”
Despite his reservations, Reid smiled at his brother. He’d been a hard sell when it came to the party. He thought the it was an egregious expense, one that could put the distillery at risk—not only financially, but its failure could hurt their brand. They had some of the best event planners in Miami working on it, but he wasn’t sure he could put the faith in it like Quin and Gemma did. “I hope so. I hate to think we bankrupted the company for an excuse to invite a certain professional wrestler-turned-actor to our party.”
“Already RSVP’d,” Quin said with a wink, reminding Reid that despite his opinion of the event, the Rexford party was looking like the hottest ticket in Miami. He knocked back the remainder of the rum. “And on that note, I’m out of here, too.”
“Yeah?”
“A friend of mine has Heat tickets. Courtside.”
Reid nodded in approval. “Nice. Close enough you can yell at the coach again?”
“If only he’d listen to me.” Quin shook his head.
“Have fun. Don’t get arrested. We have too much to do in the next couple of days and I don’t have time to bail you out.”
“You can count on me, bro.” They bumped fists, and then Quin was gone as well, leaving Reid alone at the table with a mostly full rum bottle and the bill. “Typical,” he said to the closed folio, which held the bill. But it didn’t matter to him. What good was money if he couldn’t use it to treat his siblings at their favorite restaurant?
He nodded to the server, who quickly came over to collect his credit card, and she smiled as she leaned over the table, giving him a peek at her ample cleavage. They made eye contact, and she said, “Thank you, Mr. Rexford,” in a sultry, breathy whisper. He sat back, away from her—his body language putting a barrier between them. She picked up on his cues and straightened, immediately reverting back to being his waitress. He handed her the rum bottle. “Can you see that Arlo gets the rest of this?”
“Of course, I’ll put it in his office.”
“Thank you.”
He watched closely as she walked away. While the waitress was gorgeous, and they would definitely have a great night together, it wouldn’t do. She was his regular server at his favorite restaurant, and even though Reid could barely remember her name, she was much too close to him, and knew exactly who he was. But as his eyes followed the sway of the server’s hips, his attention caught on the cloud of red hair of the woman sitting at the bar.
The curve of the woman’s spine and her smooth skin tempted him, as did the completely open back of her black dress, cut just above what looked to be an ample ass. The woman laughed at something the bartender said. Her laugh was loud and vivacious, and rang out in the quiet, dark space of the restaurant. But neither her volume nor the looks it garnered from the other patrons seemed to embarrass her. He could feel the energy emanating off her, bouncing against the cellar walls, hitting him square in the chest. It sounded stupid, corny, but the small restaurant felt brighter with her in it.
He couldn’t help but watch her as she brought her glass to her lips and sipped. Her eyes closed, and her full lips turned upward in a delicate smile and she said something else to the bartender. She was easily the sexiest woman in the room.
He smiled and stood. Checked his watch. He could go talk to her and still get home early enough to put together a plan for the newest rum. Maybe the night wouldn’t be such a bust, after all.
Lila Campbell really liked the small, underground cellar vibe of the restaurant. She’d gotten word that the Cuban restaurant was one of Miami’s best-kept secrets, and the somewhat hard-to-find restaurant hadn’t disappointed. Her dinner had been delicious, and the follow-up cocktail was divine. She was now working on a dessert of in-house-made vanilla bean ice cream drizzled with a thick spiced rum sauce that was so decadent, she’d have to spend extra time at the gym working it off.
Holding her phone above her, she took a picture of herself bringing a spoonful to her mouth. She checked it—definitely cute—and it was good to post. Some people hated selfies, thought they were shallow, but Lila didn’t care. She thought back to when she was younger. Maybe she would have been one of those women who judged others like that, but she knew it would have been her own insecurities at play. Taking a picture that she felt was good enough to post was hard for her, but it was getting easier. Sure, she still saw the nasty comments some trolls left on her posts, but she just had to shrug and move on.
“I gotta ask you.” The pretty bartender, Amanda, leaned closer. “Are you that girl from Instagram?”
“Which one?” she asked. “There are a few girls on Instagram.”
“Lila, is it?”
“Well, my name is Lila.”
“I knew it.” Amanda nodded at her drink. “That one’s on the house. Yours is one of my favorite accounts.”
“I’m glad to hear it. Come here,” she crooked her finger at her, and when she leaned in, Lila snapped a picture of both of them. “I’ll post that one later. Thanks for everything.”
Arlo’s would get a stellar review on her blog, and she knew that her word would ensure they had month-long waiting lists for at least a year. It had happened before, and she took a moment to revel in the online power she had. The staff was friendly, and the drinks and food were delicious. As she sipped her rum and Coke, she again hummed appreciatively at the flavor of—she checked the label on the bottle behind the bar—Rexford Rum, which was not cheap, but a local favorite, the bartender had told her.
Tilting her head to the side, she thought something about the name was familiar. And then she remembered. She’d managed to secure an invitation to their upcoming party next Saturday when their marketing manager had reached out to her about attending in exchange for a few posts. The buzz was that it would be attended by athletes and celebrities. The address she’d been given was for the rooftop of a swanky beachside hotel, and it promised to be a good time. She was looking forward to the party but being seen there would also boost her own reputation. Which would help her gain more negotiating clout for when she met with the GO! Channel.
She’d been in talks with the network for months, to take her well-known online persona and translate it to television. She could imagine it now, traveling around the world, the steady paycheck that would give her more stability, and let her put down some roots in Los Angeles. She never thought she wanted to settle in one place, but as she got older, she saw the value in having a home to call her own.
As she brought her spoon to her lips again, she froze, feeling someone come up behind her. Lila straightened her spine, turning on her best thousand-yard stare, which she used whenever men approached her when she traveled alone. She was ready for every cheesy pickup line. She’d heard them all. With her cocktail in hand, Lila turned, took a sip, hoping to look cool and indifferent, but instead her eyes roamed up the man’s body to his face, and she gulped down her drink in one mouthful. He put his hand on the back of the empty stool beside her. She watched, transfixed by his long, strong fingers as they flexed on the wooden frame of the back. “Is anybody sitting here?”
She shook her head, unable to speak. It had been a long, long time since a man’s looks—his presence—had left her so completely dumbfounded.
“Good,” he said with a smile.
“Your usual, sir?” the bartender asked him.
“Please,” he answered, without taking his dark brown eyes from her. “And get another one for the lady.”
Usually, the presumption of a man buying her a drink would have driven Lila insane. She hated overbearing men, and normally, she would have asked him to leave, but there was something about the man next to her that intrigued her. Whether it was his extreme confidence, his impeccable looks, or the scent of his cologne, she was rooted in place. And it had been so, so long since she’d been in the company of a gorgeous man. Amanda looked at her in confirmation and she nodded, willing to get to know the stranger.
He took the seat next to her, and in a short time, the bartender put a tumbler with a couple of fingers of dark liquor next to her new drink.
He picked up his glass with long, confident fingers and used it to gesture to her own glass. “What did I just order for you?”
“Cuba Libre.”
He drank from his glass and nodded. “Good drink.”
“Yeah,” she agreed. “I’m told it’s Rexford Rum, based here in Miami. I have to say, it’s pretty good.”
“Just pretty good?” He smiled. “I’ve heard it’s the best.”
“Well, I don’t know about that,” she teased, sipping from her glass, not taking her eyes from his as he did the same. She felt a spark that sizzled between them and stuck out her hand. “Hi, I’m Lila.”
“Lila,” he repeated, letting the last syllable roll off his tongue. She wanted to keep hearing him say her name. “That’s a pretty name.”
“Thanks, I’ve had it all my life.” He smiled at her joke, and drank from his glass, but said nothing. “Do you have a name there, hun?”
He seemed to hesitate, but then change his mind. “Reid.”
“What can I do for you, Reid?”
“I was just at my table, but then I saw you sitting here. And I’m curious why a gorgeous woman like yourself is sitting here all by herself,” he told her.
She bristled at his comment. “What’s wrong with me sitting alone? We’re well into the twenty-first century.” Reid opened his mouth to speak, but Lila didn’t give him a chance. “Maybe I just like my own company. Maybe I choose to be here alone. Isn’t that a good enough reason?”
He blinked quickly, probably not used to having women speak to him like that. “Do you want me to leave? If you’re enjoying your own company, I don’t want to intrude.”
Lila thought of telling him to leave, thought of leaving herself. Lila didn’t normally like to invite male attention, especially when she was on assignment, because it was hard enough for women traveling alone, without bringing men into the mix. But there was something about Reid—and she couldn’t back away. “No,” she said, putting her fingers on his wrist. “You can stay.”
“Good.”
She wasn’t sure why she’d touched him, but it had proven to be a mistake, as Reid took her hand in his, turned it over, and brought it to his mouth. He placed his lips to the inside of her wrist. His warm, dry lips on her almost caused her to stop breathing. Who was this man—this stranger she’d found in a small South Beach restaurant—lighting a trail of desire from her pulse point all the way to her own South Beach?
It was stupid, risky. This guy was a complete stranger. He could be anyone. But when the tip of his tongue flicked against her skin, she realized that it didn’t matter who he was.
Reid’s lips closed over her skin again and his dark eyes connected with hers. Lila was transfixed by him, as the rest of the small restaurant fell away. Just the two of them existed in that moment—and she didn’t even know his last name. Maybe privacy and anonymity were for the better. She had built up her blog and her reputation to where they were, and she knew that one public misstep could ruin her, especially with everything she had coming up. She had to be on her best behavior. Any rumor or scandal could end her. But none of that seemed to matter when Reid looked at her.
But thankfully, her sanity won out. “Wait,” she said, her words more sighed than spoken.
He backed away immediately, releasing her from his touch. “What is it?”
She took a deep breath and gulped down the rest of her drink. “I don’t even know who you are. Who are you? What’s your last name?” He didn’t say anything. “No last name, Reid? Or do you just go by your first—like Sting or Bono?”
“Oh, I have a last name—I’m just not keen on sharing it.”
Lila shook her head, and then laughed at the seriousness of his voice. The fact that the man wouldn’t give her his last name was a real red flag for her. “You sound so fucking dramatic. What, are you in the mob or witness protection, or a serial killer, or something?”
“That did sound dramatic, didn’t it?” he asked with a lopsided smile. She nodded. “I’m just a private person. I promise, I’m not in the mob or witness protection, or a serial killer.”
“You know, if you were any of those things, wouldn’t you insist that you weren’t?”
“That’s a good point. I guess you’ll have to trust me.” He looked around and waved to the bartender. “Amanda, can you come here for a second?”
She stopped wiping down the counter and joined them.
“Amanda, you can vouch for me, right? I’m a good guy?”
The bartender smiled. “He’s a preferred regular customer, close friends with the boss, and a good tipper.”
“Thanks Amanda.”
“No problem, Mr. Rexford,” she said and went back to her task behind the bar.”
Lila and Reid both shared a laugh at his name having been revealed. “So, I guess you have a name, after all.”
“I guess I do.”
“I always consider service staff to be the best judges of character.” She leaned in closer to him. “And I have to say hearing a guy is a good tipper is a major turn-on for me.”
“That’s the first time a woman has ever told me that.”
“You should date more socially conscious women, I guess.”
“Yeah, I guess so,” he said with a smile.
Amanda came back and nodded at their now-empty glasses. “Another round?”
Reid looked at her. She wasn’t sure what to say. Another round would keep them talking at the bar. But refusing another drink would free up the rest of their evening, whatever they hoped to do with it. Reid took her hand again. “Tell me, beautiful, do you want another drink?” he asked, his thumb tracing light but red-hot circles over the inside of her wrist. There was no way he could miss her thundering pulse beneath her skin. “What do you want?”
Lila tried to find her voice, but it was nearly impossible. What do I want? “I want you to keep touching me.”
“Do you want to get out of here?”
Lila’s mind raced through the lusty fog he’d created in her brain. She felt a connection with the man sitting next to her, but she wasn’t sure if she was ready to go somewhere with a complete stranger—no matter how good of a time she knew they would have together. Never in her life had she had a one-night stand with a strange man. She may have possessed a sense of adventure, but she wasn’t reckless. With as much as she traveled, Lila knew the world could be a dangerous place. As a woman, and a solo traveler, she had to look after herself—another reason she was glad to have the legitimacy of a potential network deal ahead of her. But as the stranger’s deep brown eyes bored into hers, she could barely think straight. The promise that was held in the strange man’s touch, his rich scent and his deep voice, were almost too much to bear. “What do you have in mind?”
Amanda backed away discreetly, giving them some much-needed privacy.
Reid leaned in next to her, pushed her hair away from her ear and got closer so that his lips brushed the outer shell of her ear. She shivered at the contact. “I’m not going to pretend here. You’re gorgeous, and I’m interested,” he whispered. “We have a connection, and I want you underneath me, on top of me, bent over a table. I know we could have fun together, at least for one night. So, yeah, we could put off the inevitable for a couple of hours, get another drink or two, talk, get to know each other, but I don’t see why we should.”
“Especially since we already know enough about each other?” She teased, trying to lighten the mood. Part of her—the reasonable part—wanted to say no to him. Every ounce of self-preservation begged her to refuse him. But instead, she put her hand on his rock-hard thigh.
He put his hand over hers and it was then she saw the way his pants were tented, showing her that he did indeed want her as much as she wanted him.
“I think we know enough about each other,” he told her. “Don’t you?”
She nodded. This was it. She was going to do something she had never done before—a one-night stand with a strange man. “My hotel is near here.”
Reid signaled Amanda, and before she could stop him, he’d taken out his wallet and laid down several bills to pay for her meal and drinks. More than enough to cover the total and still have enough left over for a sizable tip—just as she’d expected. Soon they were out the door, and in the alley where the restaurant entrance was located.
They walked up the street and she inhaled. There was normally something so sweet and sensual about the smell of Miami—the scent of midnight jasmine, the sand, the sea, the smell of the food and coffee. Glamorous people wearing expensive perfume and cologne. Even at night, this close to the beach, she could almost smell the suntan lotion, coconut and shea, and the fruit-flavored cocktails. Citrus. Rum. Reid. It might have all been in her head, but walking next to Reid, his hand at her lower back, his fingertips curling over the skin exposed by the risqué cut of her backless dress, she knew she wasn’t imagining it—there was something else in the air. The night, the city itself, breathed sex. It filled the air and covered them like a blanket.
She looked up at Reid. He hadn’t said a word since leaving the restaurant.
“Where are you staying?” he asked.
When the small white stone boutique hotel came into view, she said a quick prayer to the nookie gods, thanking them for the short walk. “Right here,” she told him.
“Thank God,” Reid murmured in a little prayer of his own. It shocked her when his arm snaked around hers and he whipped her around and pushed her against the outer wall of the building. His head lowered, and before she could catch her breath, his lips crashed onto hers. Reid’s kiss was hard, demanding, and it was exactly what she wanted. Correction: what she needed. Her lips parted and he took full advantage, his tongue was warm, wet and searching, stroking against her own.
Her arms encircled Reid’s neck and she pulled him closer. He moaned and pressed her into the exterior wall of the hotel. One of his thighs found its way between her legs, and he pressed it against her already wet panties. His touch was almost enough to make her fall to the sidewalk, but thankfully, he was the one holding her up.
With a groan, he pulled away from her, his eyes smoldered. “I’d better get you inside, before I fuck you right here.” He took her hand, and all but dragged her through the hotel lobby to the elevator. When the doors closed on them, he pulled her to him. Kissing her again. The man had a devilish mouth. And she had no choice but to submit to his sinful lips. He smoothed his hands down her arms, and found her breasts, squeezing them. She thrust her chest toward him, leaning into his touch, willing Reid’s fingers to go further. His fingertips curled underneath the thin material of the low neckline of her dress. She wanted Reid to never stop touching her. But the elevator came to a halt, and she barely noticed when the doors slid open in front of them.
“Lead the way.” His whisper was gruff in her ear, and she pulled him down the hall. At her door, her hands trembled so that she could barely use her key card. He chuckled, took the card from her fingers, and slid it easily into the door. It was slightly embarrassing that she was far more aroused than he was. Men rarely affected her in such a way. But there was something about Reid. He made her brain so foggy with need that she couldn’t think straight.
They walked into her room. But instead of stripping the clothes from her body like she wanted Reid to, he took a step back, deliberately putting several feet between them. “Do you want this?”
“I wouldn’t have brought you here if I didn’t.”
He took a step forward. Closer, but still out of her reach. “Lila, I want to hear you say the words. That you want this.”
Lila looked over the man in front of her. She didn’t have to look at the large bulge of his cock to see how much he wanted her. His strong body was rigid, tense. His shoulders heaved with heavy, desperate breaths. His whole body demonstrated his desire. But he still stood before her, seeking explicit consent from her, and she smiled, charmed by it.
It was her call. Despite his powerful presence, and the effect he had on her, she was in complete control. Lila took a step toward him, bringing her breasts flush with his broad chest. She wasn’t wearing a bra—as if the low cut of the back of her dress would have allowed it—and her sensitized nipples sent shocks of electricity throughout her body, as they brushed against his chest. He reached down and grazed her fingertips along the ridge of the bulge. He shuddered underneath her touch, and she grinned.
Lifting up on her toes, she leaned over and brought her lips to the edge of his ear. She snaked her tongue out and traced the outside. “Reid, I want you. And I want this.” She paused. “I want you to fuck me.”
He let go of the breath he was holding. He put his fingers on her jaw and drew her face upward to his. The hunger in his eyes was unmistakable. “This can only be one night. You know that, right?”
“Sounds good to me.” She was in Miami for a little over a week, and she already had a full itinerary. Where would she fit in more time with Reid, even if she wanted to? And plus, if she already felt like falling completely apart at his touch after only a few minutes, how would she survive another encounter? “I know. That’s what’s best for both of us. I don’t expect anything else from you, as long as you do the same.”
His smile was easy and charming. And she was struck again with how attractive he was. The chiseled jaw, high cheek bones, straight nose and dark brown eyes all joined forces to create one irresistible man. And while she knew nothing about him except his name, he was everything she would have asked for in a one-night stand. “It’s a deal,” he said, putting out his hand.
Lila let out a laugh that was more like a breath at his formal gesture, and she took his hand in hers. When their palms clasped together, Lila felt as if they shared one pulse as electricity traveled between them, strong enough to power the entire city.
In the quiet room, they looked at each other, neither’s eyes wavering. But Reid’s friendly smile then turned wolfish, as if he knew that she was his, and he would spend his night feasting on her.
Without releasing her, he pulled on her hand, causing her to crash against his firm chest.
“Now, where were we?” he murmured.
“I think, outside the hotel, you promised to fuck me,” she reminded him.
“Oh yeah, that’s right,” he said, his fingers curling over her waist and venturing lower. He kissed her, and just the feeling of his lips against her made her moan.
Already she was growing accustomed to Reid’s touch, and she knew that until her dying day, she would crave his fingers and lips. Through the anticipation that clouded her brain as his hands roamed underneath her dress, she reminded herself of their agreement.
Just for one night.
