Page 46 of Surprise Me Tonight
But what catches me isn’t the suite.
It’s the view.
London sprawls out in every direction. I’m not usually a city person; I need the fresh air and open sky of the country. But this view of London at night is something else.
I walk toward the glass, pulled to it like gravity. My heels are silent against the carpet, but I can hear my own pulse in my ears.
I rest my fingers against the cool pane and breathe in slowly. The city looks endless. But it’s quiet up here. Still. Removed.
All day, I felt it brewing — in the line of his jaw, in the way his voice dipped when he spoke directly to me, in the moment he took off his tie like he knew I’d been imagining it undone since ten this morning. I’ve been wound up tight since the meeting started, held together by politeness and professionalism and the thin line of every rule we agreed to last night.
And now I want to watch every one of them unravel.
His muffled footsteps cross the suite behind me, slow and deliberate. I don’t turn. I don’t need to.
He stops just behind me. Close enough to feel the heat of him, but not touching.
Yet.
The pause is deliberate. A final breath between pretending and not pretending anymore.
Then his hands slide to my waist — not grabbing, not hesitant. Just there. Solid. Warm.
I exhale slowly. My body responds before I even think. Leaning back. Letting him fill the space behind me.
His mouth brushes the side of my neck. A feather-light kiss, softer than I expected. Slower than I wanted.
“You,” he murmurs, voice low, almost strained, “have been driving me mad all day.”
I smile at the glass. “Likewise.”
He moves closer. His chest against my back. His hands sliding around my waist. His mouth pressing again just under my ear.
“You knew exactly what you were doing in that blouse.”
“And you in that suit,” I breathe. “Completely unfair.”
He laughs and tightens his grip just enough to tell me he’s no longer trying to be good.
I feel him hard against me, and every part of me lights up.
Still, I stay facing the window. My pulse steady. My body still. Because this isn’t about being overtaken.
It’s about stepping into something I want. And him knowing exactly how much.
His hand slides up my side, slow and sure, his touch deliberate. I finally turn, just enough to catch his gaze. The look in his eyes undoes me—hunger, raw and unfiltered, mixed with something deeper, something that makes my knees weak.
“You’re playing with fire, Stella,” he murmurs, his breath warm against my ear. “Do you know how much I want to take you right here? Right now?”
I tilt my chin up, meeting his gaze. “Is that a threat or a promise?”
His lips curve into a smirk, dangerous and intoxicating. “Both.”
Before I can respond, his hand cups the back of my neck, his grip firm but not rough. He pulls me closer, his body pressing against mine, and I feel the heat of him through our clothes. The city outside blurs as his mouth crashes down on mine, hungry and demanding. His kiss is fierce, his tongue invading my mouth, staking his claim. I moan softly, my hands instinctively clutching at his suit jacket.
“Turn around,” he commands, his voice low and commanding. “Face the window.”
My heart pounds as I obey, my back now to him, the glass cold against my palms. I can feel his presence behind me, his breath hot on the nape of my neck. His hands slide down my waist, fingers tracing the curve of my body before slipping beneath my skirt and pushing the fabric up overmy hips. I gasp as his fingers brush against the lace of my knickers, already damp with anticipation.
