RISK(28)

"I have a place we can go to," he offers just as he brings the water bottle to his lips.

He didn't say it was his place. He said it was a place.

Tad had a place he took women to. All the women he f*cked that weren't engaged to be married to him. I found out about his secret hotel suite two months after he stopped talking to me. It was completely by chance, and if things hadn't worked out the way that they did, I would have dumped him myself after realizing that he wasn't spending his Tuesday and Thursday nights playing basketball with his buddies. He was in a luxury suite in the Lunar Hotel, just off the Vegas strip, with whatever woman caught his eye that day.

His assistant had been on maternity leave when Tad unilaterally decided that our engagement was over. The day she came back to work, she called me, thrilled that Tad had continued the tradition of ordering a dozen red roses each Tuesday and Thursday for me while she'd been away. A quick check of the delivery address and the name of the florist was all the information I needed from her. I spent the next hour fitting together the pieces of Tad's double life.

My fiancé had a standing order in place to have a bouquet delivered to his suite at the hotel at eleven o'clock two nights a week so that the woman that he'd spent the evening screwing would have a memento to take home with her. By the time she got the flowers, he'd be on his way to our condo to get into bed with me.

The florist told me that the flower deliveries had started just a month after we moved to Las Vegas. I wouldn't have uncovered that fact if the florist herself hadn't just realized the day before I stopped at her shop that her husband had been unfaithful to her. She was emotional. I was pushy and it ended with her breaking the shop's promise of privacy to tell me all about Tad's deliveries.

My intuition told me never to stop using condoms with Tad even when he insisted. I'm grateful I listened to it.

"Are you one of those millionaires that have a hotel suite that you only use for sex?" I ask because I have a right to know if I'm going to share my body with him.

His mouth twitches. "Is that how you see me?"

I can't tell if the question is serious or not, so I err on the side of caution and put a different spin on it. "You seem like the type of man who would have a neutral and safe place to take women to."

"No." He shakes his head firmly. "I was talking about you thinking I'm a millionaire."

I try to hide my smile behind my hand. "Millionaire. Billionaire. What's the difference?"

"Hard work and a good accountant."

"Are we going to a hotel, Nolan?" I blurt out, wanting this part of the conversation to be over. It doesn't matter where he's taking me. I'll go. I want to go. I just don't want to get there without having the chance to mentally prepare myself for what I'm stepping into.

He reaches for my hand, scooping it into his. He lifts it to his mouth. His lips feather over my palm in a touch that sends shivers down my spine and arousal to my core at the promise of more. "Trust me, Ellie. We're not going anywhere near a hotel tonight."





Chapter 19


Nolan




Ellie threw a wrench in my plans as soon as she brought up f*cking. Not only was it a wake-up call to my already semi-hard cock, but it was also a moment of clarity.

After she had told me her roommate decided to throw an impromptu party, I decided we were going to my suite at the Bishop Hotel. It's the only place I've taken a woman to in years. It's fully equipped with everything I need. A box of condoms, a bottle of lubricant, a change of clothing for me and most importantly, an unspoken understanding with the staff that I require and expect discretion, always and completely.

I saw the anxiety marking Ellie's expression when she asked me about a hotel. There wasn't a trace of the playfulness that I always see on the faces of the woman I pick up at clubs or bars. Those women know when I tell them where we're headed that my expectation is clear. I'm not taking them to a luxury suite at one of Manhattan's premier hotels to do anything other than f*ck.

Those experiences are empty. They've always been a way to quench the thirst for pleasure. I give, I take, and then I say goodbye. It's fleeting and final. It fits perfectly into the spot I've carved out for it.

I f*ck at the Bishop Hotel. I feel in my apartment.

"Is my jaw on the floor?" She runs her fingers over her chin. "Is there a better view in Manhattan than this?"

I take a spot next to her in front of one of the large windows that overlook the city. The views of the city are spectacular, but right now they can't hold my attention. I stare at Ellie. Her hair is loose tonight, a cascade of long red curls down her back. Her dress is simple, but flattering. The straps thin enough to showcase the subtle curves of her shoulders, and the smooth skin of her arms. "I have the best view anywhere right now."

She tilts her head up at me. Suspicion wrapped in doubt is there in her eyes, but a faint smile tugs at the corners of her mouth. "Have you always been this charming?"

"It's not charm, Ellie. I'm telling it like it is."

Her gaze drifts across the room. She kneads her hands together, her top teeth pulling at the corner of her bottom lip. I want to feel that. I want those teeth on my lips, on my skin and after I've felt her come on my mouth, I need to feel the scrape of those teeth on my cock.