Page 17 of Wrong Room, Right Billionaire

Even if she never sees me again.

I pick up the pace more and more, driving myself deeper and deeper inside of her. The murmurs turn to moans. The moans to shrieks. And finally⁠—

“Oh fuck!” she screams and her body convulses against me in a series of shudders.

I can't hold myself back any longer. My mind goes blank, and, somewhere far away, I hear myself groan as my balls explode and warm electricity flows through my entire body.

When the orgasm finally loosens its grasp, I sit back, taking a moment to catch my breath.

But suddenly, she gets up.

Immediately. No spooning.

“Where are you going?” I ask, leaning back. It’s been a minute since I’ve done that kind of workout and I hate to admit it, but I might need a second to recover.

“I’m giving you the room,” she says.

I stop, sitting up straight again.

“I’m not kicking you out,” I tell her.

She gives me a look that says I am missing something very obvious. “And I’m not staying in a room that a strange man has the key to.”

Touché.

She disappears through the dressing area and into the bathroom. I hear drawers open, fabric moving, the kind of hurried activity that tells me whatever spell we were under just broke.

A minute later she comes back out dressed, dragging the brightly colored, sticker-covered suitcase I noticed downstairs behind her.

She pauses at the door.

For one second, I think she might say something. Give me her name. Her number. Anything.

Instead she smiles.

“Enjoy your room.”

“Our room,” I correct.

She rolls her eyes and leaves, the door closing behind her, possibly forever.

And for a moment, I almost regret not learning her name or even getting her number.

This could be fun. Occasional post-board-meeting hookups. Not something I usually do but sometimes I make exceptions to my routine. When it feels good.

And everything about that felt good.

Too fucking good.

I allow myself to grin for the first time since I walked into the suite. For the first time today really—and roll off the bed.

I need food. And maybe even another drink.

I grab my boxer briefs and slacks from the bathroom, get dressed, then head through the walk-in closet area to retrieve the shirt I tossed onto the bed earlier.

That’s when I see something on the floor beside the empty space where her suitcase had been.

Something that’s not mine. Obviously. I mean I didn’t bring anything with me.