Page 11 of Coldhearted King

Instead, I give in to a different urge, taking her mouth in another kiss, our tongues twining together, her moans vibrating against my lips. It’s only when I’m completely spent that I tear myself away from her and pull out, rolling off her and onto my back.

I stare at the ceiling and try to catch my breath. It’s a damn lucky thing I’ll never see her again after tonight, because sex that good would be all-too easy to get addicted to.

CHAPTERSIX

DELILAH

One Month Later

My fingers tremble as I smooth down my navy-blue pencil skirt with one hand, my paperwork and notebook clutched in the other. The team is gathered outside the large wooden doors of the meeting room, waiting to be summoned. This is our big day, and the pressure is weighing on all of us. Paul has reassured us we’ve refined our proposal to perfection, and I know he has faith in me for my part, but that doesn’t stop my nerves from taking over.

As we wait for our turn to present, Philippa, our project liaison, sidles up and inserts herself between Paul and me.

“I just heard that the COO is here,” she whispers, more to Paul than to me. “He’s sitting in on all the presentations.”

Paul frowns and rubs his chin. His gaze meets mine over the top of Philippa’s blonde head. “I know I said you could do the section on sustainability, Delilah, but if the COO’s in the room, it might be better if I do it all. You understand, right?”

“I can handle it,” I protest. “I’ve been preparing for the last three weeks.”

“I understand that, but in this situation, I’m sure the partners will expect me to do the whole presentation.”

Disappointment fills me, but I nod. He’s the project manager, after all, and it’s likely that the COO of the King Group is a man who will relate more to Paul’s seasoned professional demeanor and seniority than my youthful enthusiasm—even though I specialize in sustainable design.

I ignore the slightly smug tilt to Philippa’s smile. I don’t know what I’ve done to annoy the icily beautiful English woman, but she seemed to take a dislike to me from the moment she transferred from our UK office two months ago. At least she won’t be with us full time if we get this job. She’ll be busy coordinating with other teams and projects within the firm.

This isn’t the time to worry about her, though. I’ve got more important things to think about. Like helping Elite Architecture secure this project.

The doors open, and a man sticks his head out. “They’re ready for you.”

My pulse leaps and I smooth down my skirt one more time. Years of non-stop study and interning at multiple architectural firms haven’t quite prepared me for my first big proposal, and this is one of the biggest out there—a hotel chain with initial development sites in ten major US cities.

I trail Paul into the room, which is bright and spacious, with large windows showing off the incredible view from the fifty-third floor of King Plaza. Nerves squirm in my stomach as I look around at the serious men and women surrounding the massive table.

My gaze reaches the far end and all my muscles lock up, the air freezing in my lungs as I jerk to a halt. A pair of cold blue eyes stare back at me. Eyes that were seared into my brain only a month ago.

It can’t be him. It can’t.

One of my team members jostles past me, and I jolt into motion again, forcing my feet to continue moving toward the table. I frantically glance at the man, searching for some discrepancy within his features. Something,anything, to tell me this isn’t the person who took my virginity during a night I’m not sure I’ll ever forget.

But the way his eyes narrow on me tells me I won’t find it.

The intensity in his gaze floods me with memories: the things he said to me as he made me come with his mouth and fingers; his low, dark voice murmuring filthy words in my ear as he thrust into me; his mouth between my legs afterward, giving me another orgasm; the lazy stroke of his tongue soothing the sting his body had left behind.

After that third orgasm, when I’d been lying there exhausted and wrung out, I realized I had no idea how a one-night stand was supposed to end. I’d thanked him, my cheeks blazing as I tried to figure out the etiquette for that kind of thing. Then I’d rushed out of his suite and down to the foyer of the hotel to call a rideshare, even though he’d offered to call a car for me.

Now I’m seeing him again in the very last place I ever expected. My throat dries and I wrench my attention from him and focus on finding an empty seat as another harsh blush burns across my skin.

I can’t believe this is happening. How is it possible that I slept with the King Group’s chief of operations and didn’t know it? Maybe I’m jumping to conclusions. After all, when we first got word we’d be putting a proposal together for this project, I’d looked up both the CEO and the COO of the company, and it wasn’t Cole’s picture I saw. Although...now that I think about it, I can see a resemblance between him and the man I remember from the photo.

I steal another look at him as I make my way down the table, pull out a chair, and sit. The older, far more portly man beside Cole keeps him locked in conversation, so I take the opportunity while he’s distracted to observe him more closely.

And now my throat is dry for another reason.

If I thought the Cole who lived in my memory was gorgeous, seeing him in his impeccably tailored suit at the head of this enormous table is absolutely panty-melting. Everyone focuses on him, either overtly or covertly, and he’s all power and control. He exudes the confidence you’d expect from a man in charge of thousands of people and numerous multi-million-dollar real estate projects around the world. Based on what I know about the King Group, Cole has to be a billionaire.

I’m in hospitality. That’s what he’d said that night.

I huff out a breath. While he wasn’t outright lying, considering his actual position within the company, he definitely stretched the truth.

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