“The ride to the hotel is short. Just wait till I get you home.”
A thrill runs through me at the promise of what’s in store back at the hotel.
He’s nibbling and sucking the delicate flesh above my collarbone, driving me wild. My back arches, my head lolls over my shoulder and I’m practically purring.
I’m in heaven.
He kisses my ear. “We’ve got to give you some more inspiration for your book, haven’t we?”
My hips stop moving. My body freezes, my eyes popping open. The book. This all started when I came to his hotel to find inspiration to unblock my writer's block. So much of my story has become about him.
Has become... him.
What will happen if he reads it?
And... what of the fact that this little tale is a daddy book? His private life has already been splashed over the news. How will he feel if someone puts two and two together, figuring out that Scarlet Rose, author of Beauty and her Daddy Beast, is actually me?
Katie Davis—the girl who became an escort when she was just trying to borrow a little ribeye from a buffet.
His gaze searches my face, his words bringing me back to the present. “Did I say something wrong?”
My teeth sink into my bottom lip. What do I say? “Uh, no. I just was thinking we’re getting close to the hotel. We should probably cut this little session short so you’re not walking through the hotel with a…” My eyes go to the bulge between his thighs.
He gives me a wicked stare. “A massive boner?”
“Yup.” I try to smile but I can feel it doesn’t reach my eyes. Climbing from him, I smooth my long tunic shirt, and sort out my curls. He puts his arm around me, kissing my cheek, and it offers me some comfort.
But it doesn’t stop this sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach that tells me my happy ending may not be as secure as I thought.
The rock on my left ring finger catches my eye. I twist it between my fingers. “Oh, what do you want me to do with this?” I try to sound casual, but faking isn’t my strongest suit. I’ll leave that to Tiffany. I go to remove it to return to him, but my fingers work against me, and I just can’t seem to take it off.
He stares down at my hand, the corners of his mouth turning up in a grin. “Keep it on, for now. It looks so pretty on you.”
I oblige him, because he’s right. This ring looks damn good on my finger. Like it should be there.
Forever.
Like it should be a real engagement. But in order to be engaged, wouldn’t I first need to be totally honest with him? To tell him about the book?
I’m plagued with guilt until we reach his penthouse. Because now, his hands are back on my body, his lips caressing my skin, and suddenly the only thing that exists is our desire for one another.
He slams the door shut, with an aggressive kick of his foot. Pushing my body up against the wall, his hands slide up my arms, raising them over my head and pinning my wrists to the drywall. “Katie, my Katie. Oh, how I love you, little girl.”
His tongue swirls against mine and my core melts for him, ready for him to take me to new heights. We may be on the fifty-fifth floor but when his hand slides down my belly, stroking me between my legs, I rise to the heavens.
Elation takes over as his lips return to where they were in his car, kissing my neck, making me moan, his one hand pinning my wrists so hard I fear there may be fingertip shaped bruises on my skin tomorrow, and I welcome them.
I welcome his mouth, his body with reckless abandon, held tight to the words of his love, his declaration a promise that this will work out. That we will be together.
His other hand dips into my leggings, beneath my panties and he holds me there, his prisoner against his wall as he kisses my mouth with hot wet kisses, his fingers dipping inside of me, gathering the slickness of my arousal, and fingering my throbbing clit that aches for him, and him alone.
His kisses muffle my cries as I climax, my back arching against the wall, my fingers curling into my trapped palms. He releases my wrists to lower my clothing. I stand there, panting, beads of perspiration forming on