“Hi, Addison.” The deep purr of his voice had the potential to make me cream in my silk panties.
“Hi,” I breathed. “Wilder. Is that your real name?”
“It is,” he said with an amused huff.
“Not a fan of texting, I take it?”
“Hate it.”
“You sure you’re twenty-seven?”
“All right, Addison,” he said. “You’re not allowed to ask any more questions. Three’s my limit.”
My heart skipped a beat. “Fair enough.”
“The only things you need to know about me are that I don’t do relationships. I don’t do labels. I don’t do… emotions.”
The corners of my mouth twisted into a grin I was thankful he couldn’t see. He was perfect. I couldn’t have chosen any better. “We have that in common, then.”
“When can I see you?” he asked flatly.
The ache in my core longed to see him immediately. I needed him in the worst kind of way.
“Meet me tonight,” he said, not giving me nearly enough time to decide.
“I work tomorrow. How about Saturday?”
“Saturday won’t do. Tonight. One hour. W Hotel. Come as you are.”
***
Am I really doing this?!
My heart drummed hard in my chest as I stood outside his room at the W Hotel on Lexington Avenue. Midtown wasn’t my favorite place to stay, but I assumed he was trying to pick a centralized location having known virtually nothing about me.
I knocked lightly on the suite door. Staring down at my nude stilettos with crystal-covered heels and red soles, I tightened my cashmere blend trench coat around me. The soft fabric under my palm calmed my nerves, but only slightly. He told me to come as I was, but I’d have been damned if I was going to meet a man who looked like that and not dress myself to the nines. I smoothed a free hand over my loose, golden waves and quietly cleared my throat. My cheeks flushed at the thought that he was probably checking me out through the peephole as I stood there, waiting.
The moment the door pulled open, I wanted to throw up. Not in a bad way, but in an, “Oh, my God, he’s so fucking gorgeous. What the hell does he want with someone like me?” way. Was this a joke, or did this guy not realize he could very well be the next Calvin Klein model covering a billboard in Times Square?
His aquamarine eyes studied me with an intensity that made my knees buckle.
“I knew you’d be lovely,” he said. He held the door open and backed away, ushering me in with his sheer magnetism. He’d booked the best suite in the entire hotel, which was a nice touch, given the fact that this was simply a one-night stand. “Let me take that for you.”
He reached for my coat, hanging it up in the closet behind the door.
“Are you normally this dolled up so late at night?” he asked, his eyes running the length of me and focusing on my blinged-out shoes. “I could have sworn I told you to come as you were.”
I swallowed the lump in my throat and willed the heat rising in my cheeks to go the hell away as he stepped into my space.
“You’re very pretty, Addison,” he said. “You should know that.”
I wanted to return the compliment, but I didn’t want it to feel contrived, so I offered him a half-smile.
“Tell me why you’re here,” he said.
My brow twitched. “Isn’t it obvious?”
He lifted a hand to my face and twirled a blonde wave around his fingers, letting the silky strand fall back onto my shoulder. “There are always two answers to every question: the one we tell ourselves, and the truth.”
I stared up through mascara-covered lashes, my gaze landing on the hollow part of his cheek as his jaw subtly clenched. “I-I work a lot. I don’t have time to date or meet men. I just wanted a release.”
He pursed his full lips and cocked his head as his eyes scanned me once again. He removed the clutch from my hand and set it on a table. My eyes darted to it. I was very particular about my things, and I had to know where my phone was at all times. It was my lifeline. My job. My everything.
I didn’t know what to do with my hands without something to hold onto. I glanced down at my fingers. The fuchsia paint on my left index finger was beginning to chip, and I had an intense urge to run straight home and fix it.
“Relax, Addison.” His voice was like velvet fire as he leaned in and pressed his hot mouth into my flesh. He breathed me in as his hands went to my hips, digging into the dip of my hourglass frame. “God, you’re tense. You always this tightly wound?”
“Excuse me?” I backed up, freeing myself from his clutches. “I am not tightly wound.”
“Oh, believe me, you are. And you don’t even realize it; that’s the best part.” His eyes held a mix of mischief and depth I’d never seen before. “You’re a perfectionist. A control freak. You were shopping for a hook-up because you have very particular tastes. You don’t settle. You seek… finer things. Not saying that I’m a fine thing—I’ll let you be the judge of that. But I know what people see when they look at me. I know what I represent. And it’s why I attract women like you.”
I swallowed. He was reading me like a book, and I’d hadn’t been around him for even five minutes.
“So, I believe your answer to my question, the reason why you’re really here—the truth, if you will,” he said, “is that you want to give up control. Temporarily, of course. But clinging so tightly to those regulations and routines has to be exhausting.”