Total pages in book: 27
Estimated words: 25822 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 129(@200wpm)___ 103(@250wpm)___ 86(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 25822 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 129(@200wpm)___ 103(@250wpm)___ 86(@300wpm)
He lies face down when I return. The white sheet clings low on his hips, leaving his spectacular back on display. Corded muscles ripple beneath skin my fingers already itch to touch again, so I do.
“Hey,” I poke his back with a finger to see if he’s asleep, “are you awake?”
He flips over with a lazy smile. “Come back to bed with me.” His voice is deep, sexy, and sends a shot of adrenaline racing through me.
The clock reads midnight, chastising me and reminding me I have an important day tomorrow. As tempting as it is, I can’t risk my future for another ride on the One-Night Stand Express. If I get back to my cabin now, I can possibly go over my notes before I shower and get to sleep. God, the man is sexy, though.
He stretches a muscled arm above his head, waiting.
“I have to go.” The words are like razors coming out of my mouth, but this is what I have to do. I have a reason for being here and getting off is not one of them.
He doesn’t say anymore, just rises from the bed in all his naked glory. For a moment, I gawk at the beauty of the chiseled abs and perfect vee leading down to the manscaped part of him that is still semi-hard, memorizing every part of him.
I turn away and find my clothes, quickly dress, and go on a quest for my shoes. Talk about the awkwardness being back tenfold. I don’t even know what to say to him. ‘Hey, thanks for the stress reliever?’ I can’t say that. I can’t even think that.
Because this was so much more than that. This was better than any sex I’ve ever had in my twenty-eight years, but again, I can’t let some stranger know he just upended my world.
Oh my God. I just had sex with a stranger. I don’t know anything about him. I know he hates Christmas and really likes nails scratching down his back and makes the best orgasm face known to man, but I’m not sure that counts.
“I think they’re by the front door.”
I spin around to face the stranger, now semi-clothed in just a pair of well-worn jeans. All men should take instructions on how to wear jeans from him. The undone button makes me debate for a moment if I should take him up on his offer of getting back in the bed.
Instead, I slip into my heels, and smile. “I had a really nice time.”
He stalks closer. “Are you sure I can’t convince you to stay?”
“No,” I say, shaking my head. “I really have to get going.”
He gives a little nod, and I want to ask for his number, or email, or something, but I don’t. Because, that’s not how a one-night stand works.
I walk out of the cabin and leave my sexy stranger behind.
Chapter 2
Zoe
“Hurt your leg, Miss Walters?” the front desk clerk inquires as I hobble across the lobby to refill my coffee while I wait to meet with the owner, Mr. Steele.
“Just a little kink,” I tell her.
It’s more than a kink, though—it’s a full-on sex strain. Karma is not on my side today. Not only did I oversleep this morning, that spectacular sexcapade last night left me with sore muscles in places I never knew I had muscles. Hence the slight limp.
“You can go on back,” she informs me, a few minutes later. “Just down the hall, last door on the left, is the conference room.”
“Thank you.” I set my mug down, after taking another sip to energize me, and grab my notes.
I can do this. I have a degree in marketing; if anyone can sell this soap, I can. There’s no way they can turn down my presentation. My red silk shirt is my power tie as I walk down the wide hallway, giving myself every type of pep talk known to man.
Before I enter the room, I take a deep breath and open the door with a forced smile on my face.
“Good morning,” I address the two people seated at the long rectangular table.
“Hello, Miss Walters,” Liv, the woman with whom I set up the meeting, greets me. “Mr. Steele stepped out for a moment. He’ll be right back.”
In the interim, she introduces me to Mark Feinstein, a burly man with a distracting mustache and a buyer for the resort.
I smile and shake his paw-like hand.
The door opens, and my entire sales pitch leaves my brain faster than I spread my sore legs for the man standing before me in an orgasmic black suit that clings to his broad shoulders like my hands did last night. This can’t be happening; my stranger is Graham Steele.
“Good morning,” I say, hiding my shock behind a tight-lipped smile.
“Morning. Let’s get started.”
He takes a seat as if last night didn’t happen. Yes, right. Be professional. There’s a reason I’m here—an important one—and it’s not to admire how his skillful hands thumb through the packet of papers in front of him. I reach in my leather bag and assemble my materials on the table. My go to trick of imagining everyone naked, to ease my nervousness, is definitely not going to work in this scenario, and I silently will my hands not to shake.