Three hours later, I'm pacing the bedroom wearing nothing but a green satin bra and matching bottoms with my favorite six-inch black suede pumps I bought with me from home while making the most of the benefit of being seventy floors up in the Vegas airspace—not needing to worry about nosey neighbors peeking inside.
I glance at the clock again and my controlled nerves threaten to take hold again. I’m about to take a chance and meet up with the sexiest stranger I’ve ever met, on the rooftop of the most magnificent hotel in Las Vegas. How is this my life?
There’s more to it though. I’m terrified of the intensity of my reaction to the man, and I can’t say I’m not a little bit apprehensive that the chemistry I felt on the plane just from one look, a drink, and the dirtiest of promises murmured in my ear, might have simply been a flash in the pan.
There’s only one way to find out though…
Ten minutes later, after I've slipped my sage green dress over my head, touched up my lipstick, and spritzed myself with perfume, I walk out of the suite with just my cellphone, keycard, and a smile.
Ignoring my clammy palms and racing heart, I make my way to the elevator and scan my keycard to gain private access to the roof. While getting ready I had wondered how Barrett might've found me, let alone organized access to the private floors of the hotel, but was soon sidetracked by the fluttering butterflies in my stomach and the ache between my legs, the intensity switching between the two the closer I get to seeing him again.
Lost in my head, I don’t realize the doors are opening until a gust of wind hits me and I lift my eyes to see Kyle the porter standing in front of me.
“Ms. Jacobs, right this way,” he says with what I can only describe as a knowing smile. He puts his arm out to hold the elevator doors open while I step out onto the roof. After a few steps I stop dead still at the sight of Barrett Matthews standing near the edge looking more dangerous and utterly delicious than he had the moment I first laid eyes on him.
Then it happens for the second time—a slam dunk, punch-to-the-gut feeling assaults me as I watch him take me in head to toe, my heart hammering harder and faster the longer he rakes his eyes over me.
The moment his heated gaze meets mine, his lips quirk up into a sexy smirk, jolting me back into reality and jump-starting my brain enough that I make my way over toward him.
I take in the scene in front of me, my breath catching for a completely different reason because the breathtaking fifty-foot-high glass prism showpiece of the Sovereign’s design reaches its peaked glory on this roof. That in itself is awe-inspiring enough, but the moment I spot the table for two set up inside the structure, I struggle not to say fuck decorum and strip myself bare for the man right then and there.
Barrett’s gait is long and determined as he makes his way to my side. I lift my chin to look up at him, expecting—more hoping—for something to happen, be it a cheek kiss or even a hand touch. But it doesn’t happen. Instead, he smiles down at me with a grin so devilishly wicked that has my knees threatening to give out beneath me.
“You look fucking amazing, Alyssa,” he murmurs.
Needing to regain the power, I swing my hip out and shrug. “What? This ol’ thing?”
He leans in toward my cheek, my breath hitching as I wait for his lips to brush against my skin. Warm air fans across my ear as his mouth hovers above the ultra-sensitive spot on my neck, sending waves of awareness coursing through my body. "The dress is fantastic, but those shoes . . ." he growls, and I swear I'm catapulted halfway to climax just from that sound reverberating through me, ". . . I can't wait to feel them digging into my back when I bury my tongue inside you."
I reach out and wrap my hand around his biceps, holding on for dear life as my body threatens to melt into a puddle on the floor. My touch seems to spur him into action, his arm quickly snaking around my waist and keeping me steady.
“I’m not used to women falling at my feet,” he muses, our faces now mere inches apart.
“Oh, I’m sure,” I shoot back breathlessly, the mere presence and proximity of the man messing with my brain. Needing distance to clear my head, I go to step back out of his embrace but he tightens his grip, trapping me there.
His eyes roam over my face. “So quick to move away, Kitten.”
“I—”
He dips his mouth close to my ear again. “Relax, Alyssa.”
“Dinner . . .” I rasp, biting my lip as I struggle not to squirm under the heat of his intense gaze.
“Those lips have been on my mind all afternoon,” he murmurs, his eyes fixating on my mouth again.
“Why?” I ask, dazedly. He continues to stare for a few more moments, my breath quickening at the feel of his hard body against mine and his heat surrounding me.
As if a switch is turned, he slowly moves his hands down my body to rest on my hips, steadying me before taking a step back, breaking the connection. “We’ll get to the why, later . . . much later . . . but first”—he gestures to the prism—“I must feed you.”
“Oh,” I reply, shaking myself out of my daze. The change in mood has me reeling a little and now I’m not sure where this night is headed, or what might come of this date. Maybe I haven’t read him right at all…
“How was the rest of your day?” he asks casually as he leads me over toward the table.
"Ah, yeah, it was good," I reply, recovering quickly. "How was yours? I did look for you, you know?" I want him to know that this game of ours isn't all about play for me. I'd already decided to find him at the airport before he ended up tracking me down himself.
His eyes dance with amusement. “I’m glad to hear that I wasn’t just imagining our connection on the flight then.”
“No, not at all,” I say demurely. “The martini was a nice touch, but it’s not a miracle worker.”
Stopping in front of a black tall-backed chair, he pulls it out, gesturing for me to sit down. “My day was eventful. I had a few meetings and then I spent the rest of my time making the much more important and enjoyable arrangements for tonight.”
“A successful endeavor, it seems.” I smile as I take the offered seat. He pushes me in and rounds the table. “And how exactly did you manage all of this?” I ask, waving my arm to gesture to the room, the table, the whole date. “The roof is VIP access only.”
“I have contacts,” he replies smugly, and a little suspiciously. He looks over my shoulder and nods just before quiet orchestral music fills the air around us. Moments later, two dome-covered plates and a bucket holding a very expensive bottle of champagne are left on the table by Kyle who then bows his head and disappears. Not just a porter then.
“You’re not some secret partner in the hotel, are you?” I ask, narrowing my eyes at him.
He chokes back a laugh. “Alyssa, if I owned this hotel, you’d be staying in my room, and we’d be eating this naked in bed having already acted out everything I said I wanted to do to you on the plane.” I don’t even try to hide the shudder that courses through me.
Needing a distraction—anything to stop me from jumping into his lap and making that happen then and there—I turn my head to see Kyle lighting candles in one corner of the triangular room and working his way around until we’re bathed in soft yellow light. My eyes scan the room, mesmerized by the effect of the flickering flames against the glass.
“Champagne?” Barrett asks, capturing my attention again.
Seeing him standing over the table with the bottle poised over my glass, I can’t resist the opportunity to screw with him a little. “Oh . . .” I murmur, studying the label and frowning in mock disappointment. Our little space falls silent and it’s well worth it to see his bravado stutter before I take pity on the man and put him out of his misery. “Yes, please.”
His eyes widen before he chuckles and shakes his head. “You’re definitely going to keep me on my toes.”
“I’m a woman of many talents, vertical positions notwithstanding,” I retort, earning me his dark hungry gaze again. He leans in deeper, never looking away from me as he expertly pours my drink.
“I don’t doubt that for a second.” Returning to his seat, he grabs his glass and holds it up. “To sexy, funny, downright irresistible women found in first class.”
I tap my glass against his. “And to men with captivating assets.”
Placing his glass back down on the table, he rests his fingers around the stem as he relaxes back in his chair. “What do you do for a living, kitten?” he asks casually.
"I'm the CEO of Jacobs Media Corp." I brace myself for his reaction and find myself perplexed by the lack of one.
“Impressive,” he notes, taking a sip of his drink and acting as if I hadn’t just told him I was the head of the leading West Coast media conglomerate.
“And you, hotshot?” I ask in return.
“I’m a consultant. I work all over the country.”
My brows lift. “You must do well for first class flights and dream dates on hotel rooftops.”
His eyes crinkle, his full lips tipping up at the sides. “I do well enough,” he muses. That’s when Kyle reappears at my side, his hand hovering over my covered plate. I look up and smile, giving my silent permission. He removes the cloche and then moves next to Barrett to do the same, before bowing his head and walking away.
“So what are we eating tonight?” I ask as I look at my plate.
“Filet mignon with Maine lobster, white truffle aioli, and red wine sauce.”
“Hmm,” I hum, bending down and breathing deep. “It smells amazing.”
Barrett goes noticeably quiet and when I lift my gaze to his, I find his eyes blazing with heat. Maybe he has a food fetish?
“I . . . ah . . .” I stutter, a hot blush creeping over my cheeks.
He blinks and shakes his head, a wry smile playing on his lips as he points to my plate. “After you, Lys” Hearing him call me the same pet name my late father used to have for me catches me off guard, but not in a bad way. Not at all.
We fall into a comfortable silence as we start eating, but I decide that this would be the perfect opportunity to find out more about him.
"So are you based in Vegas then?” I ask, cutting into my steak which falls away from the knife like butter.
"I live in Seattle but travel nationwide to wherever the work is," he answers without hesitation as he spears a roasted potato with his fork and slowly slides it into his mouth, distracting me.
“I live in Seattle too.”
He grins at me. “I know.”
My body stills, my steak-laden fork poised in the air. “How do you know that?”
“I do my research,” he answers with a smirk. I narrow my eyes at him and his eyes dance with amusement when a little growl escapes me as I wonder if I should be a little more concerned that he’s looked into me.
“I guess you must have since you successfully tracked me down and all.” My mind races at what else he might’ve been able to find out about me. It’s not like I have any skeletons in my closet, but a woman should always keep some things close to her chest.
“Indeed.”
“I guess that means it’s my turn to find out more about you then. You know, to get us back on an even keel again.”
Barrett arches a brow. “Interrogate away,” he says, a rough edge to his voice sending a delicious shiver through me again.
“Okay. So what do you consult on?”
"Anything and everything," he says, far too succinct and rehearsed for my liking. But before I can counter, he continues. "Now tell me something about you that I wouldn't have been able to find out. Are you here on vacation?"
“Not so fast there, quick draw,” I counter.
“Never been accused of being a quick draw before.” His eyes darken and his lips curve up. “Something else I’ll have to prove later.”
This time I roll my eyes at his smooth comeback. "Every time I ask you something about yourself, you shift the conversation back to me. I'm starting to wonder why someone would do that. Have you got something to hide, Mr. Matthews?"
“You’re an intriguing woman, Alyssa. I can’t help wanting to know everything about you.”
I quirk a brow, studying him and looking for any sign of deceit. I haven't become a successful female CEO in a male-dominated world without being able to tell when someone is trying to pull the wool over my eyes.
But he meets my stare head-on, not wavering for a single second. The confident swagger the man has is going to be my downfall. There’s just something about the man that affects me.
“Shall we eat?” he asks. “I promise to stop my inquisition and just enjoy the company of my gorgeous date.”
Lifting my champagne flute to my lips, I take a bigger than normal sip and close my eyes, letting the carbonated liquor do its job.
Maybe I am being unfair? This is simply a dinner, not a deep dive into the life of a man who turns me on and will—hopefully soon—deliver on his dirty promises.
For the rest of the meal, whenever we're not talking, he watches me. My skin feels electrified under his gaze. It's like he can see right through me. Sparks shoot through my body like wildfire and the longer he does it, the more I fight not to squirm in my seat. And there's no doubt in my mind that he knows exactly what he's doing to me because he keeps rubbing his thumb over his bottom lip and chin like he's studying me, observing every single quirk and tell I have. It's unnerving and arousing all at the same time.
Once we’ve finished our meal, Barrett places his cutlery down onto his plate.
“That was delicious,” I say, following his lead.
“It was. They recruited the best Michelin starred chefs from around the world for the two restaurants here.”
“More attention to detail,” I murmur, reaching for my glass and cradling it in my hand.
“What’s that?”
I wave my hand in the air. "The attention to detail in this place is beyond anything I've ever seen before. Like I know they had the most prolific architects design the building, but the branding and everything else is so on point. It’s pretty surreal.”
“Hmm. One could say the same thing about having a romantic dinner for two in the glass prism rooftop of the newest, hottest hotel on the Strip too.”
My lips tip up. “Touché, Mr. Matthews.”
“So tell me, Lys. What is a beautiful woman like you doing in Sin City by herself? It’s safe to assume you’re single and available—although I don’t know how that is possible.”
“He tells me he wants to do unspeakable things to me and now he wants to know about me,” I murmur, earning a chuckle from Barrett.
I take another sip of my champagne just as Kyle approaches the table and makes quick work of clearing away our plates.
“That mouth of yours will get you in trouble one day,” Barrett says when we’re alone again.
“Oh, it gets me into trouble frequently—just not with stalkers who give me the kind of date most women can only dream about.”
Something flashes in Barrett’s eyes as the words leave my mouth. This man is so hard to get a read on. When he’s flirting, it’s easy. The rest of the time, not so much.
He quickly schools his expression and that cocky knowing smile of his takes its place. “What can I say? I wanted to make a good impression.”
His words have a multi-sensory effect, warming me to the core while also calming me and putting me at ease. It also gives me the confidence to tease him right back. Two can play this game. I run the tip of my index finger around the rim of the glass and look slyly over the table.
Barrett quirks his brow at me. “So in answer to my question…?”
“My mom lives here, and my soon-to-be stepfather flew me in so that he could propose to her. I’m meeting them for lunch tomorrow.”
"Congratulations," he replies, tipping his glass and finishing the last of his drink. "We could've said a toast for them."
“In between eye-fucking each other over the table?”
“I’m not going to stop what I’ve been doing ever since you walked out of the elevator,” he retorts unapologetically. “You’re a very captivating woman, Alyssa Jacobs.”
“And you’re a very confident, charming man, Barrett Matthews. Some might say too much so. Maybe we should play a little game of twenty questions? Then I might be able to find out more about the man I’m dining with.”
Tilting his head, he stares into my eyes, a twitch in his jaw the only sign of discomfort from my suggestion.
He rolls his hand out toward me. “Ladies first.”
"Right. Okay," I say, caught off guard at his willingness to go along with my idea. I hadn't expected him to want to play along. “I know. How old are you?”
“Thirty-two,” he answers without hesitation. “And you?”
I feign offense and place my hand over my heart with a gasp. “Don’t you know you should never ask a woman her age?”
"I'm all for equal rights, quid pro quo." He crosses his arms over his chest as he leans back in his chair, his gaze never leaving mine—a silent challenge, one I'm damn determined to win.
“Thirty-one.”
His lips curve up into a smirk. “I could’ve sworn you were twenty-eight.”
“Flattery will get you everywhere.”.
“A man can dream, kitten.” If ever there was a man who could embody dirty promises with one look, it would be him.
“Okay then. Have you always lived in Seattle?” I ask, trying to distract myself from what I really want to do, which is jump into his lap.
“I’m originally from Connecticut. Then I went to college in New York but I’d always loved Seattle, so I moved there three years ago.”
I can’t stop myself from laughing, causing Barrett’s brows to knot together. “That’s funny?”
“Only because it’s the most you’ve said about yourself since we met. And that is saying a lot.”
“I should work on that,” he says with a wry smile.
“You should.”
“There are other ways you could make me talk.” It’s my turn to smirk now as images of everything I could do to him flash before my eyes.
“That look . . . right there . . . I bet you’re thinking of how you could do it.”
I shoot him a saccharine-sweet lie of an innocent smile. "Oh, I definitely know.”
"Touché," he conceded quietly. The way he's looking at me and making me feel is intoxicating.
For so long, I've had no free time to even contemplate dating. The business always has and will come first, my personal life second. Even when I've tried meeting men, they're often intimidated by my job. Barrett seems different though. I may not know everything about the man—not even close I suspect—but there's something between us that cannot be denied. The choice I have now is whether to jump in head first or to hold back and at least try to show some restraint.
“What are your thoughts on dessert?” His eyes grow hooded and I lament the distance between us at that moment.
“I’m wondering if you’re talking about the last course of our meal or something else, and if it’s the latter, the logical part of my brain is telling me I still don’t know anything about you.”
“Do you need to know anything more right now? Sometimes a bit of mystery can be sexy,” he replies smoothly.
My mouth goes dry as my tongue instinctively darts out to run over my bottom lip. “And what if I’m not a one-night stand kind of girl?”
“From what I know about you already, kitten. One night with you could never be enough.” The deep rasp in his voice reaches inside of me, my eyes riveted as he rubs his chin and studies me right back. His gaze travels over my face leaving a singed path in its wake as he fixates on my mouth. “How about this though? You give me the chance to show you the kind of man I am when you're naked in my bed and screaming my name.”
"Barrett . . ." I reply breathlessly, the effect he's having on me more than obvious.
“That's a promise, Alyssa,” he growls. “Not a hope, not a plan—it’s a foregone conclusion.” His chair scrapes along the floor as he pushes back from the table. “And just the fact you are sitting across from me looking like the most beautiful woman in the world with that face and that fucking irresistible body that I can't wait to touch tells me you know this to be true. Because why else would a strong, confident, self-assured, and in no way lacking woman like yourself share one phone call with me, tell me I make her wet, then accept my dinner invitation, all without knowing precisely what we can do to each other?”
With my crossed legs clenched tight and my fingers gripping the table to anchor me, all I can do is slowly close my eyes and focus on my labored breathing.
When I reopen them again, Barrett is standing by my side towering over me. Leaning down, he places an index finger under my chin and lifts it gently, bringing my stare up to his and rendering me speechless with the need I see there. The fire is well and truly lit and blazing.
Wanting more, needing more, I subconsciously sway toward him, but he moves back to keep the distance between us, teasing me even more.
“When I touch you, Alyssa—and I will be touching you—I don't want to do it on the roof of a hotel. I want to take my time and explore every single inch of you with every single inch of me. You won’t care how loud you are, or how greedy you’re going to be. You'll be begging me for more and taking everything I give you.”
“God,” I moan, his words moving through me, my body thrumming with need. If I thought his words on the plane made me wet, hearing what he wants to do to me now has me soaked through. The only thing going through my mind is his touch, his hands on me, his mouth on me, and his cock thrusting inside until I’m crying out for mercy—all of it.
“Touch me,” I whisper, my voice full of desperate need.
A knowing smile plays on his lips. “Not tonight, kitten. Tonight I wanted to get to know you and challenge the limits of my self-control. Something which it appears is near on impossible when it comes to you," he mutters with a growl. "If I stay with you any longer, I'll be giving Kyle and the rest of the Las Vegas Strip a live sex show on the roof of the Sovereign," he chuckles, "and that's not my style as good as the promise of you might be."
“Oh.” My heart feels like it’s trying to hammer its way out of my chest and I wonder if just the promise of a night of sex with this man might cause me to spontaneously combust.
“I think it’s safer to escort you to your room and bid you farewell.” Barrett’s voice holds an undercurrent of frustration. It’s barely an edge but it has me a little uncertain and confused. He seems to swing one way to the other in the blink of an eye. He wants me now, he can’t have me here. He’ll make me scream, but not tonight. My libido is starting to get whiplash.
He holds out his hand to me and helps me up from the chair, tangling our fingers together as he leads me toward the elevator.
When we stop outside my suite door, my brain is still a mish-mash of confusion and lust. I know he's right and that there's something between us that deserves more time than just one night, but I can't help but be a little disappointed. This is not how I saw the end of this night going and I’m unsure what to do next. What do you say to the man you flirted shamelessly with twice in the same day? The same man you desperately want to push you against a wall and kiss you the way you’ve been fantasizing he’d do all night?
“Can I call you tomorrow?” he asks, his eyes warm on mine.
I shoot him a small smile. “Did you track down my phone number as well?”
“It came with the room information, so you might say I am well on my way to being your own personal stalker.” The ease with which he was able to find me unsettles me as much as it thrills me. I was disappointed when I couldn’t find him at the airport but he proved himself a man of his word by tracking me down and arranging tonight’s date. But after spending the evening with him and learning—albeit a limited amount—about him, I don’t feel uncomfortable anymore, more… curious. I still don’t want the night to end even though that seems to be inevitable now.
“You’re welcome to stalk me whenever you want to, Mr. Matthews.”
He chuckles, moving his body closer to mine but still not touching me anywhere apart from our still joined hands. “Back to Mr. Matthews now, is it?”
“If you were going to come inside with me, I’d be calling you Barrett.” Lust is winning the battle now with him being so close to me and clouding my head. He’s muddling my thoughts—all of which are now firmly focused on letting him do whatever he damn well likes to me.
I sense his restraint wavering when he groans and lowers his forehead to rest on mine, breathing me in just as I am doing to him. “You have no idea how hard this is to walk away.”
Taking our clasped hands, I move them between us, running my knuckles ever so gently over the hard bulge in his pants. “I think I have some idea.”
“Jesus, you’re fucking perfect for me. I have to take one kiss. Just one touch of your mouth to see me through,” he murmurs before lowering his mouth to mine and running his tongue along the seam of my lips. More than ready and willing, I open for him, whimpering as he dives inside, stroking and sucking, taking and tasting, his lips and hand in mine the only parts of his body touching me.
All too soon for my liking, he pulls away, my lips chasing his as he releases my hand and steps away, leaning back against the wall opposite me, his breathing heavy, his eyes full of want and need.
“I knew I’d never want to stop if I got a taste of you,” he rasps, his eyes still fixated on my mouth. There’s no missing the war being waged in his gaze.
“Then why did you?” I ask, just as affected as he is.
“Because I didn’t want to leave with a single regret about tonight.”
“You won’t regret not taking me to bed?” I ask shamelessly.
“That’s what I’m looking forward to about tomorrow. Anticipation is the best aphrodisiac, don’t you know?” He says, recovering his swagger and bravado. He closes the distance again and lifts his hand to my jaw, watching his thumb as he traces it over my bottom lip, dragging it down as he goes. “Just knowing the things I’m going to do to you makes it worth the wait, kitten.”