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One night won’t kill me.
I deserve it.
It’s a small sparkle of light in an otherwise dark and dingy room.
Mom doesn’t expect me home yet.
She actively encouraged me to have fun, plus she’s always been my cheerleader, so I know she wouldn’t judge me for a one-night stand. I’m not a naive country girl anymore. I can handle myself.
Romano leans forward until our lips are almost touching and the tension between us is strung so tight enough that I can hardly breathe.
“I never turn down a challenge,” he says before he drops his mouth to my parted lips. Then his hand snakes around the back of my neck, pulling me closer.
Fire and heat explode between us. His kiss is demanding, feral even. The way he takes control leaves me in no doubt that this is a man who knows exactly what he wants, and right now, that’s me. I kiss him back, refusing to be submissive. I’m no shrinkingviolet, even if I don’t have a lot of positive experiences to guide me.
When we break apart, both of us are breathing heavily. The fact we’re sitting in a public nightclub booth breaks through the fog of arousal. People are likely watching. He may be the big cheese around here but I’m not some cheap hooker, and I don’t need any curious bystanders judging me for my loose morals.
Romano must read my hesitation because he jumps up, pulling me with him.
“Not here,” he growls. I’m about to protest, say it’s time for me to leave - even if I don’t want to say goodbye to him - but he grabs my hand and tugs me across the VIP area and down the stairs. Before I have a chance to think straight, I’m sitting in the back of a car with blacked-out windows and leather seats and Romano is kissing me again.
It’s like he’s thrown some kind of enchantment spell over me. I literally can’t conjure a rational thought into my head. His hand slides up my bare thigh and my heart stutters in my chest.
“Roxy,” he murmurs into my mouth. “Fuck, you’re so sexy.”
I almost laugh. He’s joking, right? I’m nothing special. Sure, I’m pretty enough, but a guy like Romano could have any woman he wants. Still, I guess he wants me. At least right now. And since I have no plans to take this further than one night, that’s OK. I’ll go along with it.
He pulls me into his lap. I moan when I feel how hard he is. The obscene bulge at the front of his beautifully tailored pantspresses against the crotch of my soaking-wet panties. My dress is tucked up around my hips. I feel slutty and wanton, but I don’t have it in me to care right now.
He’s kissing me again and I’m writhing against him, desperate for release. I can’t recall the last time I had an orgasm. It’s been months. Raising a kid and caring for Mom pretty much killed my libido stone-dead. Romano’s brought it roaring back to life though. With bells and whistles and fireworks galore.
The car stops. I have no clue where we are. Not my apartment, presumably. His place maybe? It occurs to me I didn’t let Shona and Maddie know I’d left. Fuck. They’ll be worried.
“I should message my friends,” I say.I’m such a shit friend.I extricate myself from Romano and pull my dress down. He says something to the driver while I fire off a quick text to Shona. Not waiting for a reply, I shove my phone back in my clutch then look up as a large shaved-headed guy in a black suit opens the car door. Romano takes my hand and climbs out, pulling me with him.
We’re standing outside the most luxurious hotel in Miami. My jaw drops. This place charges a fortune per night. Rock stars and famous actors stay here on the regular. What the fuck are we doing here? No way will they let me in. I’m not dressed in designer or rocking diamonds. My face must be a picture because Romano laughs.
“Roxy, it’s OK, you’re with me.” He tucks me under his arm, and we stroll in like we’re A-listers returning from a Red Carpet event. The perfectly put-together woman on the receptionsimpers and fawns as Romano slides a black credit card over the tasteful onyx counter. She informs him in a breathy voice that the penthouse residence, with a private elevator, is available.
“I feel like Kim Kardashian,” I mutter. Romano huffs with laughter.
“So much sexier than Kim,” he tells me as the elevator door glides shut.
“Hmm,” I reply, not believing him at all, but before I can utter another word, he’s pressing me against the mirrored glass and kissing me again. My hair tumbles down over my shoulders as pins drop to the floor. The ache between my thighs intensifies. There’s a heavy pulse thrumming there, hot and insistent. Each time he grinds into me, pressing his hard throbbing length against my core, I moan. This is pure torture. I don’t think I’ve ever been this turned on in my life. If I wasn’t wearing panties, there’d be slick oozing down my thighs.
The elevator doors slide open to reveal a stunning living area. Lights flick on automatically but I’m not seeing the tasteful, decadent furniture or expensive artwork on the walls. Romano picks me up like I’m weightless and carries me into the huge master bedroom.
“You’re wearing too many clothes, sweetheart,” he tells me.
“Well do something about it,” I sass.
“I intend to.” With that, he pulls my dress up over my head and tosses it on the thick cream carpet, leaving me in a matching braand panties set. I don’t often wear decent lingerie but tonight, I’m so grateful I made an effort.
“Gorgeous.” The way his heated gaze runs over my breasts and slim figure makes me feel gorgeous, feminine, and sexy. Thanks to my dance classes, I know I’m in great shape, but it doesn’t hurt to see a man most women would kill to sleep with looking at me with so much need in his eyes. I know he’s not lying when he tells me I’m gorgeous. He genuinely thinks I am. The way he looks at me with such reverence tells me that in his eyes, I’m desirable, and the bulge in his pants reassures me he wants me very, very much.
It’s thoroughly intoxicating.
And arousing.
