To Have and to Hold (The Wedding Belles #1)(49)

For the three days he’d been out of the country, he’d been telling himself that he’d call up one of his old flings the moment he got back to New York. As far as little black books went, his was underdeveloped compared to Grant’s, but there were a handful of women who he’d consider friends with benefits. Women who, like him, were eager for companionship without expectation.

He picked up his phone with the intention of calling one of them, but the second he started scrolling through his contacts, he knew it was wrong. All wrong. Knew that there was only one woman who could assuage his lust.

Well, he’d be damned if he’d throw himself at her feet like a moron again, only for her to kick him when he was down. He’d shown her vulnerability and she’d all but laughed in his face. So no matter how much he still wanted her, he was just going to have to get over it.

Seth tossed his phone back on the counter and went to the old-fashioned bar cart along the window, pouring himself a couple of fingers of whisky as he stared absently out at the Manhattan skyline. Generally speaking, he wasn’t a big fan of drinking his problems away, but unlike professional problems, this couldn’t be solved with a bit of brainstorming, hard work, or strategizing.

He pinched the bridge of his nose and debated turning in early. It was barely nine, but he knew from experience that he was better off tackling the inevitable jet lag now before it walloped him in the ass in the days to come.

Maybe he’d get lucky. Maybe tomorrow he’d wake up and the first thought on his mind wouldn’t be a kiss that had ended prematurely.

Seth’s phone buzzed from the kitchen counter. He thought about ignoring it, figuring it was likely to be a business call that could wait until tomorrow, but then he glanced over.

It was the front desk of the hotel.

“Yeah.”

“Mr. Tyler, there’s a visitor here for you.”

Probably Grant. The man had zero qualms about stopping by unannounced to raid Seth’s booze collection, even though Grant’s own whisky collection rivaled most of Manhattan’s bars.

“Sure. Send him up.”

There was a beat of silence. “Sir, it’s a female visitor.”

Seth’s eyebrows lifted. “Maya?”

“No, not Ms. Tyler, sir. A Ms. Baldwin.”

Seth’s glass hit the counter with an awkward clank. Brooke.

He ran a hand through his plane-mussed hair. Frantically he ran through his calendar. Did they make an appointment he’d forgotten about? Had he missed a note from her about meeting to discuss the wedding?

“Sir? Shall I send her up?”

“Yeah.” He cleared his throat. “Yes. Please send her up.”

The wait for her to make it from the lobby up to his private residences should have gone quickly, considering the fact that he’d been waiting for days to hear from her, but it was quite possibly the longest three minutes of his life.

Remember. She rejected you. Play it cool, man.

There was a quiet knock, and he took another sip of whisky for courage before he straightened his tie and opened the door, prepared for . . .

Well, hell, he didn’t know what he was prepared for.

The sight of her standing so close to his home nearly took his breath away. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and just slightly messy, courtesy of the winter windstorm that was ripping through the city.

A blue wool coat was draped over her arm, and she wore a cable-knit white sweaterdress that fell just below her knees, stopping just short of her calf-high boots.

She was dressed stylishly but practically given the winter weather. Hardly the picture of a woman hell-bent on seduction, but Seth felt seduced all the same.

He inhaled, hoping that whatever she wanted would be quick, as he was rapidly changing his mind on the necessity of that cold shower.

“Ms. Baldwin,” he said coolly, mentally applauding himself for the detached tone his voice had taken on. “This is certainly a surprise. What can I—”

“Shut up,” she said before he could finish his sentence. “Just shut up.”

She stepped toward him, going up on her toes and pressing her mouth to his, and Seth’s mind went blank with shock. With pleasure.

His hands lifted to her shoulders with the intention of pulling her back—of making her explain what had changed since the previous Friday night. But the way she clung to him, her lips moving against his with just a trace of desperation, gave him pause.

“Brooke, what’s going on?”

“I want you,” she said, pulling back just slightly. Her eyes made it only as far as his nose, as though she couldn’t force herself to meet his eyes. “I know we don’t want the same things, and you don’t want complicated. I don’t want complicated, either, and I was thinking . . . I was thinking maybe we get this out of our system.”

Seth’s fingers tightened on her shoulders as he jerked her toward him. “Just tonight?”

She bit her lip. Nodded.

“Thank God,” he said roughly just seconds before he crushed his mouth against hers.

The kiss wasn’t gentle. It had none of his usual finesse.

But he’d make up for it later. Now he needed her taste. Needed her moans and her softness. Needed to feel that she wanted him as much as he wanted her.

Seth backed them up so that she was all the way in his apartment, fumbling behind her for the door as she dropped her coat and purse to the floor.