Touch (Sovereign Book 1) (5 page)

All night, my mind was stuck on constant replay. My body ached for something—anything—to sate the overwhelming need to touch and be touched. I tried to take matters into my own hands but nothing worked.

Just as I was about to get up and grab the room service menu, the phone on the nightstand started to ring. Knowing there was only one person who could be calling me—I lifted the handset to my ear.

“Hello?”

“Good morning Ms. Jacobs,” an all-too-familiar voice replied. It was the same voice I’d heard whispering dirty intentions in my ear all night, then enacting them in all their carnal glory—if only in my mind. “I hope I didn't wake you.”

“Barrett, you're a man of your word, aren't you? I wasn't expecting to hear from you
this
soon.”

He chuckled. The sound moved through me, leaving a wave of warmth in its wake. “I can't seem to get you off my mind, Alyssa,” he said, his voice serious.

“Good to see I'm not the only one suffering then,” I teased, unable to stop smiling.

“You have no fucking idea,” he muttered, the undercurrent in his tone giving the impression there was more weight to his words than I even knew.

Comfortable silence stretched between us before I heard his voice again. “I was calling to see whether you had plans for breakfast?”

Unable to resist the urge, I made the decision to give him a dose of his own medicine. “Well, I thought I'd be eating room service in bed with this sexy stranger I met yesterday, but it appears it wasn't meant to be.”

“The hardest thing I’ve ever had to do was walk away from you last night, Alyssa.”

“Probably as hard as you felt when you kissed me.”

“You're incorrigible,” he replied gruffly.

“If only you knew how
bad
I could really be.” He laughed but a knock at the door grabbed my attention. “Sorry, Barrett. Do you mind holding for a moment? Someone is at my door.”

“Of course. Hopefully not too long though,” he mused. Getting out of bed, I slipped the hotel robe around my shoulders, covering up the silk chemise I’d put on the night before, and went to see who it was. 

With the phone still to my ear, I pulled the handle and came face to face with Barrett and his sexy megawatt grin, holding two little paper bags with red Sovereign Hotel stickers.  

Looking him straight in the eye, I continued to speak to him through the phone. “I’m sorry. A man demanding my attention has just surprised me with what I can only hope is breakfast. I’ll have to call you back.”

“I understand. Until next time, Ms. Jacobs,” he said, taking the phone and putting it in his pocket.

“I look forward to it,” I muttered, totally enamored with the man’s face—those eyes, that mouth, and his strong chiseled jaw that had the barest hint of stubble.

Dropping the phone from my ear, we stood there just smiling at each other, mine undoubtedly goofy, his more sly. Then his eyes drifted down to take me in, which was the exact moment I realized I was wearing a silk nightgown, an open white robe and nothing else.

“I’d say I’m sorry for disturbing you so early but seeing you like this . . .” he said, moving his hand between us, “. . . I’d be lying to you.” He ended his confession with a sexy quirk of his lips and I almost had to grab hold of the doorframe to remain standing.

I’d never known a man to have so much raw power emanate from him. It leached from his pores and was strong enough to muddle my normally sure defenses.

“And you say I’m trouble,” I said, stepping aside in silent invitation.

“I can guarantee that,” he murmured as he walked, bags in hand, into my suite. “That view is amazing.”

I closed the door and turned around, expecting to see him standing by the huge wall of windows lining the room, but the view he was looking at was me.

“Breakfast and compliments will get you everywhere,” I said wryly, moving past him and taking a seat on the leather sectional in the center of the room.

He followed my lead, sitting down beside me and holding out one of the small white bags. “I took a guess at what you might like for breakfast. But then I figured, if you didn’t like my offerings . . .” he leaned in until our shoulders touched, a jolt of awareness shooting through me, “. . . I’d just kiss you until you got your fill.”

I bit my lip to hold in a comeback, something along the lines of exactly
what
he could fill me with. Needing to distract myself, I took a deep breath to calm my senses and opened the bag to see a salmon and cream cheese bagel.

I turned toward him and raised a brow. “Isn’t it a shame I
hate
bagels.” His confident expression faltered slightly until I let him out of his misery. “I actually love bagels, but I think I’d prefer your other suggestion,” I stage whispered. 

He dropped his bagel and hooked his hand around my neck, then he pulled me into him, slanting his head at the last minute and proceeding to kiss me breathless. I gasped in shock and delight, giving him the opening he needed to shove his tongue into my mouth. This was a different kind of kiss from the night before. It was needier, hungrier, with a lot more desperation.

My body melted into his and my bagel bag dropped to the floor. I wrapped my arms around his shoulders and let him take what he wanted, and in return I gave him everything I had. Then, just as quickly, my legs were swung up and around and I found myself flat on my back with a hot, hard and heavy Barrett—and his very impressive part—pressed against me.

What seemed like a lifetime —and a lot of kissing, licking, nipping, and groping later—Barrett pushed himself up, bracing his hands on either side of my head, and looked down at me. 

“If we keep this up, you won’t get to eat your breakfast I brought you, let alone make your lunch reservation, and I won’t get time to deal with the few meetings I have today. And that will cut into our nighttime activities which include more of this . . .” He leaned down and kissed me hard and fast and hot. “And stop me from taking you out for dinner again tonight.”

My heart continued to thump against my chest as if I’d run a marathon, struggling to recover from the sensational make-out session we’d just had on the hotel suite’s couch. I felt an uncharacteristic giddiness in my stomach at knowing he wanted to take me out for another date.

The man continued to surprise me, always doing the unexpected or unanticipated. If he wanted to keep me on edge, he was succeeding tremendously.

“Are these prior engagements of the consultant-type variety?” I teased, squeezing him playfully with my legs that somehow found themselves wrapped around his back.  

“Yes, they would be,” he replied with a laugh that turned into a groan when he rolled his hips against mine, playing me at my own game.

“That backfired, didn’t it?” I said breathlessly. 

“Worth it, though.” He grinned widely before he dropped his head down and brushed his lips against mine. “I take that as an acceptance to my dinner invitation?”

“Would you consider room service?” I asked almost hesitantly. I may be a sexually confident woman, but just as he had ever since the moment I’d locked eyes on the man, Barrett had me feeling slightly vulnerable, and I couldn’t for the life of me work out why.

I could not deny that I found his confidence and determined pursuit of me attractive. Then there was the raw masculine energy that radiated from him in everything he did—every word, every look, every touch. All of that defined him and drew me in.

He kissed the dear life out of me, silencing any uncertainties I might have had. Stopping too soon for my liking, he lifted himself off me. I watched as he bent down and handed me my discarded bagel bag from the floor with a huge knowing grin on his face. With a wink and a smirk, he turned around, picked up his own white bag and walked toward the door, stopping to place what looked like a business card on the side table. Then he was gone, disappearing from sight and leaving me in need of a cold shower and counting down the hours until I could see—and touch—him again.

“You’re looking so good, Alyssa,” my mum cooed in my ear as she hugged me.

“You too, Mom.” I tightened my arms around her as I realized just how much I had missed her. “We should see each other more often,” I said, pulling away but still holding on to her arms.

“You’re right, we should.” She smiled brightly at me, her eyes still wet from her happy tears. “You know you’re always welcome.”

“I know, Mom. But with everything going on with the company right now, I can’t get away.”

“I’m very proud of you, sweetheart. Your . . . father would be too,” she added, her voice cracking at the mere mention of my father.

After arriving at Sovereign’s Signature restaurant, I was escorted straight to Gavin and Mom’s table where she proceeded to scream in surprise.

It was after the appetizers, before the main meals, when Gavin made his move.

Without an inkling of what was about to happen, my mother went stock still when “My Girl” started playing over the speakers. Gavin lowered himself down onto one knee and reached one hand into his pocket, pulling out a black velvet box from his pocket. He grabbed hold of my mom’s hand and held out the most beautiful princess cut diamond ring I had ever seen—and the biggest—between them.

“Rosalie, you are the most amazing woman I have ever met, and it would be an honor to call you my wife. Forever and always. Will you marry me?”

That was my cue to start crying, and never had I been more thankful for the handkerchief I had stashed in my purse.

Mom just sat there as her eyes switched between Gavin and the ring.

“Mom, you need to put the man out of his misery,” I said quietly from beside her.

“Oh, yes, yes, yes, yes!” she cried, before launching herself into his arms, the two of them hugging and kissing on their knees in one of Las Vegas’s most acclaimed restaurants. It was a moment I knew I’d never forget.

Once they had recovered and returned to their seats, the restaurant manager delivered a bottle of Champagne to our table and then toasted with us to celebrate Gavin and Mom’s engagement.

Halfway through our main meal, Gavin’s phone rang, and he politely excused himself, walking out of the restaurant and out of sight.

“So tell me,” Mom started, “have you been dating anyone?”

“I haven’t had time to date,” I explained. “But I did meet a man on the flight. I went to dinner with him last night in fact.”

“Oh, now I know there has to be a story there. Tell me all about him.”

“His name is Barrett Matthews, and he’s here on business.”

“And where does he live?” she asked in an almost singsong voice, her tone brimming with excitement. She was probably already planning our double wedding in her mind.

“He’s based in Seattle.”

“Oh, how
nice
. Where did he take you for dinner?”

“Yes,” I said slowly, “last night on the Sovereign’s rooftop.”

“Oh my lord, how on earth did he manage that?”

“Apparently, he knows people,” I said with a laugh.

“Is he handsome?”

“You have
no
idea, Mom. He’s smart and thoughtful, but with an air of mystery and intrigue. Every time I’ve seen him, I’ve been left wanting more,” I said. When Mom stifled a giggle, I felt my cheeks heat with embarrassment when I realized what I’d implied. With a shrug, I conceded, “Well, that too.”

“Amen to that,” Mom said, raising her glass in the air and clinking it against mine when I mimicked the gesture.

I stood up, taking my purse and phone with me. “I’m just going to go to the restroom,” I said, excusing myself. Mom nodded at me, and following the signs, I made my way to the back of the restaurant.

Opening my messages on my phone while I walked, I brought up Barrett’s number. The business card he’d left in my hotel suite had his work and private cell numbers on it, which I had taken as an invitation to use them. 

Since he was on my mind, and he’d left me in quite a state that morning, I decided to give him a dose of his own medicine.

Me – For dinner tonight, I’ve decided it’s my turn to treat you. My suite, seven p.m. Clothing optional.

With a smile, I slipped my phone in my pocket and made my way down the short corridor where the ladies’ bathroom was, only to stop when I heard a phone chime to my right. Turning my head, I stopped when I saw—and heard—Gavin talking loudly to a man I couldn’t see because his back was turned away from me. 

“You’re supposed to be working, not sleeping with her.”

“How do you know what I’ve been doing?” the man asked in an angry, accusatory voice.

“I protect my investments and since you’re costing me a pretty fucking penny, I did my own investigation into you and your work practices. You do whatever you have to in order to get the job done. If that involves Alyssa, then so be it. Show me why you’re known as Bullseye.”

The last thing I heard was a familiar voice growling, “I'm not a fucking rent-a-cock, Gavin.”

Unable to comprehend what I’d just heard in that moment, and not wanting to even consider the possibility of what it might’ve meant, I called out to Gavin. I pulled my shoulders back and stood ramrod straight and watched him look at me, his eyes wide with shock and maybe guilt when it dawned on him what I’d heard.