The Pairing (The Proposition #3)(52)
Megan shuddered at the intensity of both his words and the way he delivered them. Taking her by the hand, he led her off the dance floor. They snaked around the tables in the dining area until they reached the exit. Weaving through the people, they went into the hotel that adjoined the restaurant. It was actually more of a historic bed and breakfast than a hotel. As they neared the reception area, Pesh dropped her hand to reach into his coat pocket. Once he retrieved his wallet, he stepped up to the desk. “I need a room please.”
“Credit card and identification please,” the inn keeper droned. As she sized him up, Megan couldn’t help thinking he looked rather pompous—the usual type of person who worked in a high-end place. “Would you prefer queen or—”
“A king please,” Pesh requested through clenched teeth.
“Do you need help with your luggage?”
“No, we don’t have any.”
The man typed something into the computer. “And how long will you be staying with us?”
“As long as we need,” Pesh replied, drumming his fingers on the marble counter.
Megan watched as the man’s eyes widened and a flush entered his face. He quickly finished the reservation and handed Pesh a key card. “We have you in one of our balcony king suites.”
“Thank you.” Taking her by the hand, Pesh led her over to the elevators. When Megan dared to glance over her shoulder, she saw the man peering curiously at them. As they stepped onto the car, Megan couldn’t help the nervous giggle that escaped her lips. When Pesh looked at her in surprise, she laughed even harder. “What is it?”
“By the way that conversation went down, he probably thinks I’m a prostitute.”
Pesh’s eyes widened. “You don’t seriously think that?”
“Okay, maybe a high-end escort?”
A growl came from low in his throat. “Do not demean yourself like that.”
“I’m not demeaning myself. Think about it. We come in during the middle of the day with no luggage, and we want a hotel room with a king sized bed.” She tapped her chin with her finger. “Hmm, what could we possibly be doing?”
The corners of his lips turned up in a smile. “I probably should care what the man thinks, but right now, I frankly don’t give a shit.”
She laughed. “Me either.”
The elevator dinged, signaling they had reached their floor. They stepped out and read the signs to find their room. Once Pesh opened the door, Megan walked inside. She took in the cozy décor of the room with its brick fireplace, antiques, and four-poster bed. Going to a hotel could have been sleazy, but this room had such a romantic feel to it.
When he came up behind her and slid his arms around her waist, she couldn’t help suddenly feeling shy. “Are you all right?” he asked.
“I’m fine.”
His breath warmed against her ear. “You tensed when I touched you.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. I guess I’m just nervous.”
Pesh turned her around to face him. “You don’t have anything to feel nervous about. If you don’t want to do this anymore, we don’t have to.”
“No, I want to do it,” she assured him.
Without another word, his fingers went to her hair. After he undid the clasp, her hair tumbled down over her shoulders. An appreciative shudder rippled through her when he nuzzled his face into the strands at her neck. From there he sought out the zipper at the middle of her back. Slowly, he slid it down. When the back of the dress gaped open, he took the spaghetti straps and eased them over her shoulders and down her arms. Megan felt his breath warming her back as the dress pooled onto the floor. She stepped out of it, and then turned to face him.
The heat of his gaze stoked the fire burning deep inside her. His expression was fierce as he drank in her strapless black bra and panties, along with her heels. “You are so beautiful.”
For some reason, she felt the urge to blush at his words. Guys had told her she was beautiful before, but it didn’t feel the same or sound the same coming from them as it did Pesh. The way he said she was beautiful, coupled with the way he looked at her, made her tingle in all the right places.
Her hands came to his tie. After she loosened it, she ripped it off him and slung it to the floor. Deftly, her fingers worked the buttons on his shirt. When she opened it, she sucked in a breath at the sight of the dusting of dark hair covering his chest. It trailed down over his washboard abs and down into his pants. “You’re pretty beautiful yourself,” she said with a smile.
As he shrugged off his shirt, her fingers went to his belt. The entire time she unbuttoned and unzipped him, his burning gaze took in everything she did. “Why do you keep staring at me?” she questioned quietly.
“I’m afraid if I look away, you won’t be real.” His hand cupped her cheek. “I’ve wanted this for so long—I’ve wanted you for so long. It’s hard to believe that you’re really here.”
“Touch me,” she urged. She took his other hand and brought it to her breast. “Touch me and feel how real I am.”
Lowering his head, his mouth hovered over hers. “Breathe me in,” he instructed, as he kneaded her breast over her bra.
At the feel of his breath against her lips, she inhaled while his heated gaze almost singed her cheeks. Even if she had wanted to, she couldn’t bring herself to look away from his eyes. When she exhaled, he inhaled, and it was like they were doing a dance. It was both relaxing and somewhat erotic. She’d never spent time just breathing and gazing into someone’s eyes. “Now you’ve had your first lesson in Tantra,” he murmured against her lips.