Kate Hewitt - The Billionaire's Fantasy

And yet she was still thinking about it. Maybe it was the knowledge that Chelsea had found some happiness, so she wanted to grab a little for herself. Maybe it was just five years, or really a lifetime, of sexual starvation. Maybe it was this man, looking at her with both assurance and hunger.

She folded her arms, eyed him coolly. “If I get on that bike, you know where this is going, right?”

“A nice hotel on Forty-Sixth Street I know?”

She swallowed. A hotel . It sounded so sordid. But also safe. “And that’s it.”

“You’re talking my language.”

She laughed then, shook her head in disbelief. Was she actually warning Jaiven that she didn’t want a relationship? Talk about unnecessary.

“In any case, though,” Jaiven said in that slow, sexy rumble of a voice, “you can’t get on my bike. I only have one helmet.” She must have looked disbelieving because he chuckled softly. “I ride safe, and I mean that in all sorts of ways.”

“Nice.”

“Glad you think so.”

They stared at each other, the moment spinning out so Louise felt breathless. Her mind emptied of thoughts and her heart started to thud. She really was thinking about doing this. Hot sex with a stranger.

A little voice in her head, a voice that she’d been trying to silence for ten years, whispered that this was a bad idea. She didn’t trust men, not with her heart and not with her body. She wouldn’t be able to stand it if he ended up humiliating her, rejecting her. She could not bear to feel that way again, not for so much as five seconds.

She took a step backward.

“Looks like it’s not going to work out.”

“You give up awfully easy.”

She shrugged. “Some things aren’t meant to be.”

“And yet we left the party at the same time, met up out here. Seems like fate to me.”

A thrill ran through her. He was trying . He really did want her.

Maybe she could do this. Maybe this was actually what she needed.

“So what do you suggest?” she asked. “If you won’t let me on your bike? And that was not some double entrendre, by the way.”

“I’ll meet you at the hotel. You can take a cab. It’s The Black Book on Forty-Sixth and Seventh Avenue. The penthouse suite.”

“The penthouse suite? What, do you have a standing reservation?”

He gave her another slow smile. “Something like that.”

So he kept an expensive suite on permanent reservation for his one-night stands? Charming.

But then, this night wasn’t about charming. It was about sex. Hot, raw, primal sex.

“How long will you wait?” she asked, and he cocked his head, swept her in a thoroughly assessing gaze.

“Twenty minutes.”

Louise let out a choked laugh. Twenty minutes? That’s all of his time she was worth? “What if there’s traffic?”

He glanced down the near-empty Fifth Avenue. “There won’t be. Twenty minutes should be plenty of time to decide what you want, Louise. Because once you’re through the door, I have no time for regrets or cold feet.”

She felt a shiver run right through her; his tone was utterly implacable. “I consider myself warned.”

“Good.” He settled his helmet back on his head and revved his bike. “See you in twenty minutes,” he said, and sped off into the night.

IT HAD BEEN seventeen minutes. And thirty seconds. Jaiven prowled through the penthouse suite of the Black Book with restless impatience. He’d been so sure she was going to come. She hadn’t said as much, but he’d seen the way she’d looked at him. Felt her want. It was a mere thirteen blocks from the Plaza to here, so where the hell was she?

Had she actually turned him down?

He went over to the bar that overlooked Bryant Park and poured himself a whisky. Maybe it was just as well, he decided. She’d obviously been a little nervous about negotiating a one-night stand. He’d thought she was ballsy but maybe this kind of thing was out of her element.

And he didn’t sleep with virgins, or even women with little experience. He liked his lovers to be as assured in bed as he was, to know what they wanted and be confident enough to take it. No regrets, no repeats.

Louise Jensen, despite her dirty laugh, didn’t seem to fit that mold. But he still wanted her. Enough to check his watch again and see that nineteen minutes had passed.

Damn it.

He was surprised, he realized, at how disappointed he felt. Sex was simple, and a woman’s company was easily found. All he needed to do was go down to the bar and chat up one of the women he’d already seen there on his way in. Fifteen minutes tops, and he could be back here with a warm and willing body in his bed.

But he didn’t want just any warm and willing body. He wanted Louise. She felt like a challenge, even an enigma; she seemed confident and shy at the same time. He wondered which she would be when it came to sex. Maybe she’d take what she wanted, after all. And maybe he’d let her.

Or maybe not.

A knock sounded at the door. Instinctively Jaiven checked his watch. Twenty minutes exactly. And he had a feeling that was on purpose. A smile curving his lips, he went to open the door.

She stood there tall, straight and proud, her chin lifted, her gray-green gaze clashing with his.

“Exactly twenty minutes,” he said and she shook her head, her mouth curving in a knowing smile that he liked.

“Twenty-one from the moment you left me.”

He laughed, realizing she was right. He hadn’t checked his watch until he’d stopped at a traffic light.

“So, was there traffic?” he asked as he took her by the hand and drew her inside. Her skin was soft and cool; her fingers felt slender and fragile in his.

“No, none.”

“So what took you so long?”

“I wanted to see if you’d wait.” She spoke airily enough, but as Jaiven gazed at her he thought he saw something in her eyes, something hidden and shadowy that both intrigued and alarmed him. He was not going to be soft about a woman. And he couldn’t have her turn needy.

“I was just about to leave.”

She eyed his half-drunk whiskey on the side table, the tuxedo jacket he’d shed on a chair, and arched an eyebrow. “Is that right?”

He laughed again, liking her attitude, and because he didn’t want to wait anymore he drew her to him, sliding his hands up to cradle her face. Her cheeks were as cold as her hands. “Good thing I’m a patient man,” he murmured, and then he kissed her.

* * *

That first kiss felt like an electric shock, or maybe being doused in ice water. Everything in her jolted with sensation; it had been so long since she’d been kissed she’d forgotten she had lips, and how good it felt to have someone else’s on them.

She opened her mouth, wrapped her hands around his lapels as she pulled him closer. She needed this. Needed to be reminded she was alive and desirable.

As she kissed him she pushed off his jacket, fumbled with the studs of his tuxedo shirt. Damn those fiddly things. Why couldn’t tuxedo shirts have regular buttons?

“Whoa.” Jaiven eased back, wrapping his hands around her own so they remained trapped and stilled against his chest. She could feel the steady thud of his heart, beating at a far slower rate than her own. “No need to rush.”

Yes, there was every need. Because if she didn’t rush she’d start to think and then she’d start to fear and regret. He’d told her no cold feet and no regrets when she walked through that door, and so here she was holding up her end of the bargain. He needed to hold up his and get his game on. “No need to wait, either,” she said. She leaned forward to kiss him—and missed.

His mouth quirked slightly as he leaned back out of range. “Forgive me if I like to take my time.”