Cocky Notes - Leesa Bow Page 0,9

lust thinking it’s love—the ones who forget the rules. I type out:

I’m not alone either. Perhaps another time.

I shower, flick on the television, and pour a glass of wine. I’m scrolling through horror movies to watch and notice the new message as my phone lights up.

Guys have gone out. Come to The Penthouses at the Bay. Reception will notify me when you’re here.

I toss my phone on the lounge beside me.

Shit, he gave me his address.

Somehow my glass is drained in one go, and I’ve grabbed my keys, a light jacket, and I’m out the door. I don’t think twice because there can’t be regret.

I am wearing black elastic waist pants, the Boho type, flared and not clingy. A black singlet. No bra because ten minutes ago I was settling in for a horror movie. And black flip flops.

I’m not surprised at the valet’s shock when I step out of my dirty, red Datsun. “Can you tell me the best place to park?”

He points to the paid public parking area. Five bucks for an hour. I’ll be done in less than one, so I top the meter with gold coins.

The receptionist gives me the once over, and I’m tempted to unfold my coat from around my waist.

I wait while she speaks over the phone to, I assume Reef.

A few minutes later, the elevator doors ding, and he strolls out in a white buttoned shirt and blue jeans sitting low on his hips. I’m dead. Then I notice his bare feet, and smile, without regret.

“Macy.” He holds out an arm.

I don’t take it or shake it or whatever.

“I’m not quite ready. Would you like to come up?”

“Sure.” I’ve heard worse lines.

I step forward, he rests his hand on my lower back, leading the way into the lift. He swipes his card and presses the penthouse button. Does his card only permit the lift to access that level? My thoughts are whirling at the same speed as my heart rate. The doors open, and we walk a short distance to another door. He types in a code and swipes the door for entry.

It might be my one and only chance to hook-up with him, so as soon as the door closes, my arms loop around his neck, and I’m kissing him. I relish the warmth of his lips, the way his tongue slips easily into my mouth, and how our bodies mesh together—a better fit than I imagined. My insides spark as I run my hands over strong muscles, down his back to his tight ass.

Reef pulls back. “What’s the rush, Mace?”

I refuse to admit to only paying for an hour. Instead, I run with the obvious. “I thought this is what you wanted?”

“What, no. I mean it is, but I thought we’d get to know each other first.”

“Isn’t a hook-up the best way to get to know each other? I thought it’s what you players do best?”

His brow draws together. “Yeah and no.”

“Really?” How did I get this so wrong? “Do you want me to go?”

“Of course not. I just don’t want you thinking it’s the only reason I asked you here.”

One step is all it takes for the heat to radiate between our bodies. My fingers work unbuttoning his shirt. I run my fingers over each bump of his chiselled abs. He looks hot but a damn sight hotter with his clothes off. “What if it’s the only reason I came here?”

Reef clasps both my hands and stares deep into my eyes, searching. I blink, turning my focus to my trapped hands because there’s no way I’m letting those baby blues undo me and weaken my demeanour. Instead, I take a step back and untie the belt of my coat. His gaze lowers. Hunger burns behind those blue hues, and even I know what he’s thinking without the skills of a psychic.

He remains still, taking his fill.

Slowly I slide the straps of my tank top low enough until my boobs pop above the material. His eyes round, and he’s frozen to the spot. Cupping both boobs, I lift them as an offering. His hands rise cupping mine, and then his face is lost in my mountains of breast. I moan when his tongue flicks my nipple. He sucks hard taking as much in his mouth as possible.

Shy my arse.

His hand is inside the elastic of my pants, and with his hot breath around my boob, I ride his hand to the point I can hardly stand. The mushing sound alone