“What the hell are you doing in my room? I thought Renée had accidentally assigned me a suite that hadn’t been vacated yet.”
“Your room? We decided to alternate weeks.”
“Yes, but the first week was mine!”
“Who said? You agreed that the first guest to request an upgrade is the one who gets the room.”
“But I had the key already. You knew that! You watched Renée hand it to me earlier.”
Instead of answering me, Weston’s eyes dropped to my breasts. I had no idea how the man managed it, but somehow it felt like his fingers were grazing over my skin as his gaze traveled over my body.
Did it suddenly get warm in here?
My heart thundered in my chest while emotions ran through my head. Disgust—a little at him and a lot at me—anger, conflict, confusion, and a heaping dose of Jesus Christ, if that isn’t the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.
Weston took a few slow steps toward me. Acting on self-preservation, I raised a hand and showed him my palm. “Stop. Don’t come any farther.”
He froze mid-step and raised his eyes to meet mine. The beautiful sea of blue irises disappeared as black, stormy pupils pushed their way in. We stood there for a long moment in an intense stare-off. Weston seemed conflicted about his next move—until his eyes caught on something to my right. They lingered there for a few heartbeats, and when his eyes slid back to meet mine, the air shifted. He could barely contain the grin he attempted to hide, and his eyes glinted with renewed mirth. I turned to see what had caused such a change and found myself staring at my own reflection. A giant mirror hung in the hallway, above a half-moon-shaped table.
Shit. I closed my eyes.
The sound of something soft falling to the floor caused a sharp intake of my breath. I didn’t need to look to know what it was.
Weston’s towel.
“Turn around. Hands on the table. Ass out, sweetheart.”
I didn’t budge. A war raged inside me. Was I really this hard up that a firm body could have me listening to commands barked by a man I couldn’t stand? Again? What the hell was I doing? The door was only three feet away. Surely I was capable of putting one foot in front of the other and leaving this jerk with nothing but his misplaced confidence and a painful erection to take care of himself. Yet… I couldn’t deny that my body wanted him. Outrageously so. It felt like my skin was on fire, waiting for his touch.
He moved closer, and the heat from his body radiated behind me. Unable to make a decision to flee, but also not ready to give in, I kept my eyes closed tight.
Weston gripped my hip and his fingers dug into my skin. “You’re going to have to give me something. A nod, a yes, bending over and showing me what you want, a moan—I’ll take a few blinks, if that’s all you can do. I’m into role-playing you not wanting me to touch, if that would work for you. But only after I’m sure you’re giving me permission, Soph.”
Weston’s other hand raised to my neck. He trailed a finger over my throat and traced my collarbone. I lost the little resolve I’d been holding on to.
Opening my eyes, I looked into his tempestuous ones. “Fine. But this is it. I’m not kidding, Weston. This needs to stop.”
“Whatever you say.”
“I’m serious.”
“So am I. Now turn around. Grip the table. Eyes in the mirror at all times.”
It was kind of hard to feign righteous indignation when you were about to bend over and let a man have his wicked way with you. But I was a trooper. I kept my face stoic.
“Hey, Soph?”
My eyes met Weston’s in the mirror.
He grinned. “To come or not to come, that is the question.”
I did my best not to smile. “Let’s just get it over with.”
***
Twice.
I sighed, smoothing down my hair. For a man who had wanted me to wear my hair up so badly, he sure had no problem ripping it down. Weston was definitely a hair puller. And to my utter disgust, I loved every last tug. Though, this was the part I hated. Within two minutes of him straightening my skirt and disappearing into the bathroom, the cold air of rationality replaced the warmth of absurdity. In the heat of the moment, I couldn’t get enough. It was as if my lungs couldn’t take in enough air when Weston came near me with that darkness in his eyes. But as soon as it was over, a flood of oxygen had my brain firing again.
I rushed to gather my belongings before he came out of the bathroom, though I didn’t quite make it. Standing in the hallway, I was reaching for my suitcase when Weston covered my hand with his on the handle.