Then, how much better it’ll look on the floor of the hotel room.
“No, you’re good. I’m just early,” I say, fighting what feels like my fiftieth CJ-inspired erection of the day.
“Early,” she echoes, her eyes going wide. “Is this a first for you? I mean, I know you’re always on time to work, but in a social setting, isn’t five minutes late your modus operandi?”
“No,” I lie, then immediately fess up because lying to CJ feels wrong. “Okay, maybe, but I don’t believe in keeping my students waiting. Especially my favorite students.”
Her lashes sweep down and back up, and a smile that’s pure sex kitten curves her lips. “I believe I’m your only student, Professor Campbell.”
“You can be both my only and my favorite, Miss Murphy,” I say, losing the battle against the thickening situation in my pants. But seriously, there’s only so much a man can take.
She reaches up, her fingertips skimming over the skin exposed by my open collar. “What are you teaching me tonight? I came dressed as requested.”
“I saw that,” I say, then nod toward the bar. “You want a drink before we head upstairs?”
She shakes her head. “No, but an answer would be nice.”
I grin wickedly, not even bothering trying to hide it as I take her hand, drawing her out of the bar toward the elevator, her jacket over her arm. “Why? Nervous?”
She laughs. “No. Should I be?”
“Liar,” I whisper as the elevator doors close behind us and I draw her mouth toward mine. And damn, if she doesn’t taste even better than she did two nights ago. She responds with a hunger that drives me wild, her arms wrapping around my neck as she boldly pulls me closer. She presses her curves against my chest with a soft moan, clearly wanting more, much more.
Taking lesson two slow is going to be a Herculean test of will, but I’m up for the challenge.
“Okay, so maybe I’m a little nervous,” she murmurs as my lips roa
m over her jaw, finding the flesh of her earlobe. She’s wearing little diamond earrings shaped like bow-ties, beautiful and delicate, just like her.
“Don’t be.” I take the entire lobe into my mouth, tasting the warmth of her perfumed skin melding with the cold stone of the gem for a moment before I set her free. “You’re dressed for success.”
She shivers lightly against me, her lips parting, but before she can speak, the doors open and she falls silent.
“Seriously, nothing to worry about,” I assure her, wondering if I shouldn’t have ambushed her the way I did the first time. But sooner or later, she’s going to have to learn to take the wheel. Might as well begin as she’ll need to continue.
“Let me tell you a secret,” I say as I lead her down the hall. “A lot of men are terrified to make the first move. Even successful men used to taking control in the boardroom can falter in the bedroom.”
CJ wrinkles her nose. “You? Falter in the bedroom?”
I laugh and scoff, “Well, no, not me. But the average guy. I’ve been thinking about how you came to be a twenty-five-year-old virgin, and it’s not something that happened in a vacuum. I’m betting you scared a lot of men away.”
She rolls her eyes. “Yes, because I’m soooo scary.”
“You are,” I assure her, pausing in front of the door to the suite. “You’re drop-dead gorgeous, successful, and a little bit shy, so it can be hard to know what you’re thinking. I’m sure that’s a scary combo for a lot of guys.”
Still looking dubious, she steps inside, taking in the elegant dining area to the left—complete with Tiffany chandelier—the seating area to the right, and the luxurious pedestal bed straight ahead. With its airy cotton drapes hanging from the ceiling, cloaking the mattress in mystery, it looks like something straight out of a castle. “So pretty . . .” She clasps her hands together, turning back to me with wide eyes. “This is too much, Graham.”
“It’s just enough. And you’re going to look beautiful up on that bed.”
Her eyes widen as I tip my chin toward the table, where a bottle of Dom is chilling in an ice bucket. “I have champagne if you’ve changed your mind about a drink.”
“Now I’m worried,” she says with a breathy laugh. “Is this lesson going to require liquid courage?”
I take her hand and bring her toe-to-toe with me. She gazes up at me, the heat that flickers in her expression assuring me she needs no liquid courage. “No. You’ve got this, Butterfly.”
She gulps. “I do?”
“You do.” I press a kiss to her forehead—knowing better than to kiss her lips if I want the strength to walk away from her, even for a few minutes—and turn to cross the room. I reach the throne-size, button-studded armchair, shift it to face her direction, and sit down, taking in the view. With her naughty heels and sexy-sweet dress, she’s gorgeous. Knowing my lingerie is against her skin takes gorgeous to breathtaking.