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Electra took a couple of steps forward with me beside her and stopped in front of a numbered door. Her hillside building was separate from the main guesthouse where we had stopped to pick up her key. In her sexy dress, she had turned the night clerk’s head like she had turned mine when I’d first seen her at the club. With that enticing plunge between her tits and the sparkling sequins, she was the galaxy of stars she tasted like, but there was no place to stash a room key.
“Nice room,” I said after following her inside.
Light glowed warmly from grass-thatched table lamps perched on top of nightstands that flanked a large four-poster mahogany bed.
Imagining getting her into that bed and naked, I felt my mouth go dry in anticipation. To distract myself, I glanced away from her and took in the rest of the room.
A large dresser and an armoire were on the wall opposite the bed, plus two plantation-style chairs with a table between them beside a sliding glass door that led to her balcony. The waves crashed outside, but it was too dark to see them.
I returned my attention to Electra. It barely felt controllable. On her was where my eyes wanted to be.
Fucking hell, I was nervous. I didn’t know what to say, feeling like I was a teenager again. Maybe it was because I hadn’t done the hookup bit with anyone but Mercedes in years.
That might be part of it, but I knew it wasn’t all. Given Electra’s age and how exquisite she was, she could have any man. But I didn’t want to be just any man to her.
“You okay?” Asking me the same question I’d asked her outside, she set her keycard on the dresser. Turning, she came toward me, looking like a goddess of the night in that dress.
“I don’t usually do this type of thing.” I blurted out honesty as she led me toward her bed. “Not anymore, anyway.”
It made me feel antsy to be open with her, because what the fuck did I know about being real? But with her looking at me with naked vulnerability in those magic mirror-like eyes of hers, I wanted to be honest.
“I don’t believe you,” she said.
“Why not?”
“You’re not lying.” She searched my gaze, looking surprised. “Are you?”
“No.” I shook my head. “I’m not.”
“I don’t understand.” Her delicate brows knitted together, revealing her confusion. “Is that because you have a girlfriend?”
“I don’t have a girlfriend.” My eyes narrowed. “What gave you the idea that I did?”
Had an entertainment website posted something about me that I didn’t know about? It was possible. They made up shit half the time, but nothing had ever come out about my arrangement with Mercedes. We were discreet. She came to my house when I called. I’d only gone to hers once at the beginning.
“No reason.” Electra glanced away. “I guess I just assumed, given who you are, that you indulged in what was offered.”
She shrugged, but I knew she wasn’t telling the truth. The glance away that preceded the shrug was her tell. I remembered her doing it before.
I wasn’t usually this observant with women. I didn’t need to be, and yet I had to be observant here. I needed to read her like I did the defense during the game to determine the best play. But what was the best call in this situation?
“There is no one back home.” I went with my instinct and captured her chin.
Gently, I turned her head, so she had to look at me. Letting my gaze wander over her lovely face, I traced the arches of her proud brows, the straight line of her nose, and the fullness of her soft lips.
“It’s okay if there is.” A darkness shadowed the light within her star-filled eyes.
It wasn’t okay, she really meant. Liking that my being with other women might bother her, because it sure as shit bothered me the way all those guys at the club had been undressing her with their eyes, I took a different tack.
“How could I possibly want or think of anyone else when I’m here with you?” Holding her gaze, I skimmed the back of my hand along her jaw.
“That feels good.” Her lids lowering and her lips parting, she practically purred as she leaned into my caress.
“Your skin is so soft.” I hummed my pleasure, marveling at the creaminess I encountered. When I tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear, she sighed.
“What are we doing?” she murmured. “A hookup isn’t supposed to feel like this.”
“Like what?” I asked, experiencing a surge of masculine satisfaction. Was it possible that she enjoyed my touch as much as I did hers?
