Because You Want Me (Falling for You, Book One) (2 page)

He stopped a few feet shy of me. Close enough that his scent, something bright and warm with an edge of mystery floated over me like a breeze. Perfect timing—just as beads of perspiration were dangerously close to giving me away.

His eyes contrasted beautifully with his dark hair, a deep green that made me think of some lush and exotic jungle. His smile was even more devastating up close.

I was suddenly glad that I'd borrowed one of Victoria's skintight dresses because his eyes swept over me in a single, satisfied glance.

“Hi,” he breathed.

I melted inside, but I forced the nerves away, commanding my gaze to stay level with his and give nothing away. I wanted to say something clever, do something that he wasn't expecting.

So I made the next move, drawing so close to him that my breasts brushed against his chest. I perked on my toes, lips fluttering as I brushed the line of his jaw. I lingered, just in case this blew up in my face and this moment was all I got.

His nearness alone was intoxicating. What would tasting him do to me?

I licked my lips and the words that came out of my mouth were a sultry challenge that I hoped he’d accept.

“Hi yourself.”

I spun on my heels and strutted in the opposite direction, hoping that the warmth of his gaze, following my departure intently, wasn't just wishful thinking.

I
came to the Red Door Club with one goal in mind: to blow off some steam. To escape.

To fuck.

In the boardroom, I'm ruthless. Don't believe the hallmark card, motivational poster bullshit. It's not about feelings. It's not personal.

I'm the CEO of Wade Enterprises, an investment firm. I take ideas and turn them into lucrative ventures. I round up failing businesses, liquidate them, and transform them into something bigger and better.

I don't hold hands. I go for the throat. And it's made me very, very wealthy. I work hard—and play even harder.

I have a reputation, VIP status at every club worth mentioning in the city. My weeks are spent in a high rise in the Financial District and my weekends are spent buried inside one of a revolving door of twenty-something's that I forget as soon as they saunter out of whatever penthouse room I arranged for the night.

Sex isn't about connection for me. It's about seeing someone at their most primal, and for a few hours, letting them see me at mine. Then I cut them loose and go back to being the monster. The businessman. Which made my father's proclamation this morning that much more insulting.

It wasn't enough that I took his modest company from profitable to Fortune 500. He wanted something from me that went against my life philosophy. Work first, play second, and anything else was irrelevant. I had no interest in settling down; family life, white picket fences. I’d tried that route and it left me alone and broken.

From that moment own, I fostered a different kind of dream. Long hours at the office, watching the profits soar to the stratosphere. I craved a life lived out of a suitcase, closing business deals on the company jet, then bringing home some pretty woman to warm my bed from time to time. It was my life.
Mine
.

The blow when his lawyer shared his last minute addendum to his will echoed like the words had just been uttered. I was back in the Maury Barrowman's office. Every piece of furniture was a stock image of the stereotype of a high powered law office. Cold and efficient. When he read the addition that pertained to me, I had to replay it, sure that I’d misheard. As the pieces dropped into place, control slipped from my fingers. A panic that I wasn't used to feeling settled over me. I was paralyzed by a sense of helplessness that I'm sure would have brought a smile to my old man's face—if he was the kind of man that smiled.

“If Xander Robert Wade fails to maintain a genuine, romantic relationship for a month, he will forfeit his right to head the company—and that responsibility will fall to Marie Rachel Wade.”

I'd laughed at my father's bespectacled lawyer at first. For the briefest moment, I'd thought the pinched faced man would wink and shout, 'Gotcha!'. But he sat stony faced and silent, with the same painful expression he always wore. The joke was on me. A cruel, ironic joke—a father that had been absent until a few years ago would take the company I'd turned into a powerhouse and give it to my sister. My sister of all people! A smirking, irresponsible socialite who had been a thorn in my side since birth and had only gone into business to find some gullible businessman inches from the grave to support her shopping addiction. She'd stolen away on the gravy train, and I was going to be thrown from said train because I didn't have a girlfriend?

Hell no.

So I decided I'd play his little game. I'd find some suitable match and play the love game for a month. But I had an itch that needed to be scratched. One final night of debauchery before I played the role of dutiful boyfriend.

And then I saw her.

My fantasy of screwing as many hot women that I could get my hands on faded into the annoying trance music that filled my ears. Everything else became an annoying buzz that didn't compare to the hypnotic pull of the brunette standing near the lockers.

She looked delicious. Legs that went on for miles. Legs that I wanted wrapped around my waist—or spread wide. Two inches shorter and the sultry black dress would have been a shirt. My cock throbbed as I admired the way it skimmed her slender waist and clutched her hips. It ran out of fabric just where it was supposed to. Petite breasts attempted to spill out of the top, her skin glowing in the dim light.

I took a step forward but something in her stance made me pause. That wasn't a ‘come hither’ in the way she stood. Her body was locked in the tense, starting block pose of someone that was about to run for their life.

Her head turned and she saw me watching her and went still as a statue. A drop dead gorgeous statue that rumbled to life as I advanced toward her. It was like some curtain had been pulled and the lights flashed on as she raised her chin and rolled back her shoulders.

It was a valiant effort, but I could tell when someone was putting on a show. Usually, I had no patience for games. No time for them—I made it very clear up front who I was and who I was not. But there was something intriguing about her. An innocence that glittered in the grunge of a sex club.

So instead of heeding the lust that had me swollen, aching to push her against the lockers and hike up her skirt, I smiled instead.

“Hi.” Just one word. It felt heavy and as airy as the smoke that hung in a fog around us. I wanted to clear it all out. With this woman, I didn't want the lights out. I wanted to see every beautiful inch of her.

The lust dripped from the word and she heard it and answered in kind, biting her lip for a millisecond before she released it and gave me a once over with eyes as alluring as the hair that spilled past her shoulders.

When she drew closer to me, I had to force the smile that wanted to own my lips to play it cool. There was nothing but fire in my veins when she pressed her chest against me, her face upturned and mine to admire. She was striking in a way that left me breathless. She had a dainty but stubborn chin. Her full, thick lips shone with a pink gloss that made me want to ravage her. My eyes took in her petite nose, nostrils flaring as I wondered what thoughts were running through her mind. And those eyes—I realized they weren’t brown at all. They were a rich hazel, flickering with gold, filled with a passion that made me feel like
I
was the one on display. Like I was the one being hunted.

She leaned in and her hair smelled like strawberries and summer. I bit back a growl of want when her lips brushed my ear.

“Hi yourself.”

She stepped backward, leaving me wanting,
needing
more. Before I could say something clever or do something bold like pull her back to me and kiss her, she walked away.

I watched her, stunned, as she faded into the smoke. The slim corridor seemed to vibrate around me, the lockers creaking like they were leaning in, just as enraptured by this mystery women as I was.

If you're smart, you'll let her go
. Tonight wasn't about wooing. That was for the morning. My assistant, Caitlyn, had already lined up several potential matches that I'd be  interviewing in between my meetings.

Tomorrow was for conversation. Tonight was for moans.

But my feet pulled me in her direction, questions firing one after the other in my head. Who was she? Why was she here when she so clearly didn't want to be? What would she taste like when I kissed her?

When...not if. Because I had no idea what tomorrow held, but I wasn't leaving this club without kissing her.

The rest of the people at the club barely registered on my radar. A couple pawed at each other in the doorway. A woman here, guys scattered there and everywhere. I didn't know if the music was hypnotizing me or if I was under some spell, but I studied her. The way she turned something as simple as walking into a dance that beckoned me to follow her lead.

The place was a maze and she navigated it like she knew the waters well. The Red Door Club had all the class you'd expect. I had a feeling the darkness was intended to hide the disrepair as much as ambience. Strobe lights flickered across monochrome walls.

She strutted into a room with a glass bar area that was just a tease. There was no alcohol served here, just water and soda, but the woman threw back a Sprite like it was a shot of tequila.

“Where have you been all my life?”

The high pitched, slightly slurred pick up line came from behind me. I pried my eyes from the bar and faced the petite blonde who slumped against the doorway. She clearly had a few drinks before she came to the club or brought the party with her. She fit the bill of what I usually went for—she even dropped her baby blue eyes to my crotch and licked her blood red lips. I normally would have found the corny introduction and boldness that radiated from her charming. Sexy as hell. There was something to be said about a woman who cut to the chase. My usual disclaimer would have been unnecessary because the look in her pale eyes told me she was searching for something hard, sinfully memorable, and temporary.

“There's this room downstairs-”

“Let me stop you right there,” I cut her off with the most genial smile I could muster. The smoke must have been doing something to my head, because I was turning down exactly what I'd come here for. “You seem great, but I have my eye on someone else.”

She let out a huff of annoyance and tossed her gaze around the room. Most people were partnered off or hovering around someone interesting. Everyone but my brunette in the black dress. She landed on her and her eyes bulged from her skull.

“Her?” Complete and utter shock dripped from the word—and a disdain that told me they knew each other and were far from friends.

I didn't owe the blonde an explanation and I didn't know the mystery woman at all, but I felt a sudden urge to protect her. To not only claim her but to let the fuming, jilted frenemy know that she didn't stand a chance.

“Isn't she gorgeous?” I beamed. I didn't wait for an answer, heading toward the brunette just as she turned in our direction. She looked past me to the other woman, then back at me, then back at her. Her eyes widened in surprise as she followed my path to the stool beside hers.

Her brow furrowed in the cutest way. “You must be lost.”

“I'm right where I'm supposed to be,” I answered smoothly. It sounded like a line. She frowned like it sounded like a line...but something inside me whispered that it was more. I wanted more from this woman. Luckily, the volume of the music intensified, drowning that crazy talk out.

She gave me another once over, this one decidedly less sexy than the first. “Designer jeans-”

“A keen eye for fashion,” I winked, anticipating whatever biting jab she was about to throw my way.

She gestured at herself like a game show presenter who was sick of smiling that Colgate smile. “This is my sister's dress. I have the exact opposite of a keen eye for fashion. Now Lara on the other hand-”

When I raised an eyebrow-Who the hell is Lara?-she tilted her head in the direction of the doorway. The blonde I'd passed on was still standing there, shooting daggers at my head.

“She's very into fashion,” she explained. “And into you. I'm sure she'd be all about doing whatever it is you came here to do.”

“Whatever it is I came here to do?” I repeated with a grin. “You can't even say the word.”

She cradled her drink, avoiding my gaze for a moment. She gathered herself so she could keep pretending like she wanted to be here. “Not sure what you mean.”

“I think you know exactly what I mean.” I leaned in like I was going to tell her a secret, but it was really just a ploy to get closer to her. Her scent, her innocence, her tireless efforts to act like she was in her element when I could see the worry in her eyes...it was intriguing and sexy as hell.

“Fuck,” I said quietly. There was nothing quiet or discreet about what she was doing to me. Sitting was officially uncomfortable and with one glance down, it was easy to see why. Her eyes never left mine though, my word twitching its way across her pretty features. It rounded her eyes, traced the lines in her forehead, danced across her flaring nostrils, then settled on her kiss bruised lips. She didn't repeat it, but I saw the heat rush to her cheeks. She fidgeted in her seat and I wondered how wet she was.

She cleared her throat. “To each their own. I didn't come here for...
that
.”

“What did you come here for?” I probed.

She gave me a long, steady look. I was used to people cowering or shying from my gaze, but she knocked me off balance. With this woman, the fact that I was wealthy meant very little. She was suspicious of my charm. I'd thought the husky whisper when her lips brushing against my ear earlier was her way of showing she was interested, but she was an enigma. One moment she was biting her lip like she was struggling to suppress a moan, and the next she was looking right through me.