Page 7 of Coldhearted King

“You want me to tell you why you should come back to my hotel room right now?”

“Yes.” It’s a breathless whisper.

I gasp when he reaches for my stool and drags it closer to him so my knees end up between his thighs. Then he leans forward, tucks my hair behind my ear, and whispers into it, the heat of his breath causing goose bumps to scatter over my skin. “Because when we’re alone and I’ve already made you come twice, once with my fingers and once with my tongue, when I’ve buried my cock inside you and I’m driving you toward your third orgasm, I’m going to tell you exactly how sexy you are, exactly how hard I am for you, and exactly how incredible your pussy feels when it’s squeezing me. You’ll forget there was ever another man inside you, and when I finally let you, you’re going to come, screaming, all over my cock.”

He leans back so he can see my eyes, and I imagine they’re dilated enough to expose how much his words have affected me.

He smiles, drifts his knuckles over my burning cheek, and says, “Convincing enough?”

My mouth is so dry I can barely speak, and my heart is flinging itself against my rib cage. This is the craziest, most reckless thing I’ve ever contemplated in my life. I can tell myself I’ve had too much to drink, but that’s not it. I’m totally clear-headed now. But I’m tired of being responsible and doing the right thing all the time. I’m sick of overthinking this. Mom always told me to concentrate on my studies, get a good job, and not rush into a relationship or let a man change the course of my future. Well, I took her advice and more. I’m one of the youngest licensed architects in the United States, and that’s proof enough, but I still have a lot I want to achieve. I don’t need the added pressure of determining which man to share my body with for the first time. I could just do it already, get it over and done with, and move on without it hanging over my head.

So yes, tonight I’ll be reckless for once. I’ll let my hair down, stop thinking, and give this man, this stranger, something Paul apparently wasn’t willing to wait around for.

And I get the feeling he’ll make sure I enjoy every second.

I meet his gaze. “Very convincing.”

A flare of satisfaction brightens his icy blue eyes.

“What’s your name?” he asks, reaching out to tuck another stray tendril of hair behind my ear. His fingers drift down the column of my throat, and butterflies erupt in my stomach.

“Delilah. What’s yours?”

“Cole,” he says, studying me with an odd intensity, as if learning his name might make me change my mind.

Strangely enough, I’m reluctant to carry on with our small talk after agreeing to have sex with him. Like most things in my life, once I’ve decided I want to do something, I’m committed to making it happen as soon as possible. I’m still nervous, but there’s a sense of anticipation swelling within me I can’t ignore. A need to fulfill a part of me I’ve been holding back.

So when he asks if I’m ready to go, I nod, take a final sip of water to wet my dry throat, and slip off my stool.

Cole puts his hand on my lower back and guides me toward the exit, and I can’t stop thinking about what else his hands will soon do to me. I can’t stop the vision of his sweat-slicked body moving over mine.

My feet stutter to a halt and I can’t go any further without confessing the truth to him. This might be more than he bargained for. It’s possible my virginity could be a deal breaker for him, and he has a right to know what he’s getting into. “Wait. There’s something I need to tell you first.”

Wariness tightens his features, and his brows rise as he waits for me to explain my hesitation.

“I...um...I actually haven’t done this before.”

“I think it’s pretty obvious that going home with a man you’ve just met at a bar isn’t typical for you.”

I lower my voice. “No. I mean, I haven’t done...it...before. At all.”

A crease forms between his brows.

“I’m a virgin,” I hiss when he fails to respond.

Surprise flares in his eyes. “How old did you say you are?”

His obvious disbelief makes me raise my chin. “It’s not like it’s that uncommon.” I hold my breath, wondering if he’ll change his mind.

His eyes run over me, and something I can’t identify glimmers in them. A hint of a smile curls his lips. “Uncommon enough.” He shakes his head, still with that half smile on his face, then takes my hand. “Let’s go.”

* * *

It’s onlya short walk to his hotel, one of the King International chain of luxury accommodations. I’m too nervous to take in all the architectural details or the expansive foyer the way I normally would, but when he guides me to the elevator, swipes a card, and presses the button for the second highest floor, shock hits me. “A suite?”

His lips curve up. “Perks of the job.”

“What do you do?”

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