The VIP Room(44)

“Yes. I’ve been having a fun time breaking her in,” he told me with a wink as he pulled into traffic. I felt my cheeks flush. I tried to tell myself it was from the alcohol, but I knew all too well that it was because this man triggered a response in me that I’d never experienced before. “Do you know a lot about cars?”

I shook my head. “No, but my brother did. He knew all about them. I remember him working in our garage on his Corvette a lot and going to car shows. He tried to drag me with him all the time, but I always managed to get out of it.”

A small sting of sadness pierced me whenever I thought about my brother. And if Tristan noticed the past tense I used in speaking about him, he didn’t comment on it. It drove home the situation I’d willingly placed myself in. This man wasn’t my boyfriend. He didn’t care about me, except for what I could do for him. It went both ways though. He was my Hot Stranger, my ‘Just One Night.’ And I was okay with that. I was using him in the same way.

So, instead of being hurt by his silence, I switched tactics. Alcohol made me bold. Smiling, I crossed my legs, letting my dress ride up even more. I watched his eyes flash to the bare expanse of my thigh before he met my gaze. His lips quirked knowingly and I pretended not to be embarrassed by how shameless I was acting.

“Have you named her yet?” I asked.

“Named who?” He finally dragged his eyes back to the road. A strange feminine thrill went through me, knowing that I could distract such a powerful man.

“Your car.”

Tristan chuckled. “This isn’t the kind of car that you name.”

“Every car should be named,” I teased. “My old car was named Baby Girl. She was this run down little Civic.”

“‘Baby Girl’ is an endearment. Not a name.”

I raised my brow, enjoying our banter. “Have you ever called any woman Baby Girl?”

“No, I can’t say that I have.” He flashed me a smile. Then he reached over and settled his warm hand on my exposed thigh. Goosebumps erupted over the flesh of my arms and a pulse of awareness throbbed between my thighs. “Fine. You win,” he murmured.

“What do I win?”

A dark, sensual smile full of promise. “You’ll find out soon.”

“You strike me as the kind of man who doesn’t like to lose,” I said, my voice a little breathless.

“That’s because I never do. But for you, I think I can make an exception.”

I didn’t really notice when we pulled up to what I assumed was his apartment building. It wasn’t really a building, so much as a fortress. The valet took his car when we pulled up, but I was too aroused to focus. The light strokes he’d gifted my thigh in the car were enough to send my mind in a daze.

“Mr. Blackwell,” the doorman greeted. Tristan nodded at him with a smile but kept his hand on the small of my back as he guided me towards a set of elevators. If his hand strayed only a little farther down, it would be on the swell of my ass. I found that I didn’t mind. I liked this easy intimacy. It had been far too long since I’d been touched like this.

As we passed through the main foyer of the building, I saw the curious stares. I saw the way employees and residents alike took in my dress, my shoes, my face. But the wetness between my thighs, the way my heart skipped a beat every time Tristan swiped his thumb over the dimples on my back, the trembling of my overheated body was enough to make me forget their judgments. It was a big city. I’d never see these people again. Besides, even if I did, I liked to think my face was unrecognizable, with all the make-up Larene had used earlier this evening.

And honestly, I was just impressed I could walk in these stripper heels without making a fool of myself. Especially with alcohol in me.

There were at least eight elevators available on the ground floor, although I wasn’t surprised. In an expensive building like this, residents didn’t want to wait. What I was surprised at was Tristan bypassing the main elevators and heading towards a private door at the end of the hallway. He swiped his keycard across the reader and entered. Another elevator. A private elevator. I didn’t want to think about what that meant.

He pulled me inside when the doors slid open and pushed me back against the steel brushed wall.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, his green eyes melting me where I stood as the elevator began to ascend. He leaned in close to brush a kiss across my jawline. A moan of surprise and desire erupted from my throat. “I saw your hair first. I found myself wondering what it would feel like, how soft it would be.”

Even if he used this line on all the women he picked up, I didn’t care. Of course, I would like to think it was just for me, but Tristan had done this before. It was obvious. Or maybe I was still jaded from Ryan. I didn’t know.

“It wasn’t the dress?” I asked him, tilting my head back so he could get better access to my neck. He sucked on the delicate skin, making my breath hitch.

I could feel his smirk before I saw it. He lifted his head. “It might’ve been the dress too.”

I was surprised at how comfortable I felt with him. I should’ve been intimidated by his looks, his obvious wealth, our situation. But I wasn’t, which prompted me to say, “It’s not even mine.”

A wide grin stole over his face. A shiver of anticipation raced its way down my spine as I stroked my fingers over the material of his suit. “You’re something different, aren’t you?” he murmured, lowering his head towards mine.