Tessa

Barclay grumbles the hotel address to the cabbie and I lean against the door, twirling my hair around a finger, waiting for him to speak to me. After we barrel through a couple city blocks, he turns toward me. Our eyes meet, and he exhales a deep breath. His jaw is more relaxed, and his eyes are no longer throwing flames my way, but he still looks intense and on edge.

“Tessa, I don’t want to talk about you with other men. At. All. But since you brought it up, let me school you on some facts.”

“Please do,” I scoff, trying to act brave.

“Things move fast here. In Manhattan, a guy in his twenties considers dating a woman for a week a long-term relationship. They’re getting the feel of having money jingling in their pockets along with other things. They’re as shallow as a baby pool with only one thing on their mind.” Barclay raises a brow suggestively, obviously meaning sex.

“Not all guys are like that,” I say, making a lame attempt at defending the young men in this city, but I wonder if he’s right. PH-D was like a sexual playground. Hands wandered, searching the available equipment, and everyone seemed okay with it.

“Trust me,” he says with a sigh, running his hand through his thick hair. Oh, how I itch to touch those soft strands again.

“Okay,” I concede. “Twenties are out, so I’ll settle for guys in their thirties?” I shrug and wait for his answer, knowing he’s thirty-seven.

“Not a good idea either. Too much baggage from their twenties.”

Time to play along with his madness. “Well, that leaves teenagers or men in their forties. Which should it be?”

“Have you ever considered becoming a nun?” He smirks at me like it’s a joke, but his smile wavers.

“Ugh. You’re getting a knuckle sandwich for saying that.” I give his bicep a light punch, and he flinches. I roll my eyes at his overreaction to the slight tap, and he throws me a crooked smile. Whatever. He’s extremely annoying at the moment.

“You sound just like my brother. And the answer is no. I don’t want to be a nun, because I’ve lived like one throughout high school and college. It’s a habit I intend on breaking with someone special and …” I pause, battling over whether to show my cards or fold them.

His eyes search mine, and I remind myself not to overthink things. Live in the moment. Take risks … even if it leaves me vulnerable to heartbreak. There’s some comfort knowing this time he’s in the car with me, instead of leaving me on the sidewalk alone and driving off without a backward glance. I take a mental step and jump off a cliff, hoping he’ll catch me.

“Barclay, I don’t want anyone else but you.”

My breathing becomes erratic, and I close my eyes, waiting for his reply. I can’t face his possible rejection head-on. My stomach knots as each second passes.

“Open your eyes and look at me, sweet girl,” he coaxes me in a voice as smooth as silk. When I do as he bids, a slow smile builds on Barclay’s face. “Let’s start with that kiss.”

“Let’s,” I breathe.

Barclay pulls me across the backseat and wraps his arm around my shoulders. I melt into him with a contented sigh. This place next to him, being held in his grasp and inhaling his heady scent, feels right, like we were meant to fit together in some grand cosmic design.

“So beautiful.” Barclay cups my jaw and tilts my chin up toward his face. His thumb caresses my cheek. The light touch is almost too much to endure. “Are you sure?”

I nod my head, too choked up to speak. All the pent up desire has left me unable to utter a simple word. His eyes turn smoky black, smoldering, matching the passion I feel inside.

Lowering his head, he brings his lips to mine. It’s gentle, a small touch, a whisper of lips on lips. Then, he unleashes something hungry, fast, all-consuming, drawing me tighter into his arms. Any tension within me dissolves on an exhaled sigh of surrender.

When our tongues touch and intertwine, my head spins and an unfamiliar, but welcome, warmth builds low in my belly. The desire for more of him and his sinful lips threatens to consume me.

I run my hand over his chest, feeling the solid wall of muscles under my fingertips. Wanting to explore more of him, I trail higher, tracing the skin above his collar, then farther to his jaw. I travel over the chiseled edges and masculine stubble. He moans into my mouth, and I’m in awe my simple touch moved a man like him.

“Tessa. Tessa,” he whispers between passion-filled kisses, and I hum in utter bliss against his lips, not having enough breath to speak.

My body burns for him, and it hits me. Here, somewhere in midtown Manhattan, I experienced my first real kiss from a real man. Those guys in college were amateurs. Barclay is perfection.

The cab slows down to a stop, and my eyes flutter open, taking in the front of the hotel. “Can we go around the block one more time?” I plead.

“I have an even better idea.” He tosses the cab driver a few bills and takes my hand. “How about I tuck you into bed?”

I gulp, but it’s what I want. I think. Wait—I’m done thinking. Barclay’s the one.

“Okay. My bed I guess? Since we’re at the hotel and all.” I fumble over my words. Nervous much, Tessa? A corner of his lip tips up.

“You know, you’re adorable.” He opens the door of the cab and helps me out onto the curb.

“Kitten’s are adorable,” I say with a pout. I get the feeling he’s never spoken like this to another woman in Manhattan.

“I’m talking about your sweet innocence.” He taps me on the nose, and I roll my eyes. “The rest of you is stunning.” He steps back, and his eyes travel over me. “I wouldn’t change either. Both combined make you irresistible.”

“Thanks.” I blush and glance away, trying not to crumble under his wanton perusal.

The cab is long gone, and we’re alone on the sidewalk … well, not totally. People pass by, but no one seems to care about our conversation. He pulls me into his arms, and I look up at him.

“I forgot to tell you something.” He pauses a second, gaining my full attention. “I live here.”

“Wait. At the Hammond?” He nods, and his disarming smirk is back. “No, you didn’t. Believe me, I would’ve remembered that major detail.”

“After the company bought the building, I helped with the redesign. The top ten floors are all residential.”

“Let me guess. You’re on the top.”

“I prefer the top, sweetheart. The views are great.” He gives me that damn crooked smile, and I melt. “Let me show you.”

We walk into the hotel lobby, and a doorman comes running to Barclay’s side. His eyes are wide, darting between Barclay and me.

“Excuse me, sir,” the bellman says.

“What’s the problem, Peters?” I notice the golden nametag on the bellman’s chest.

“It’s her, sir,” he rushes, pointing his eyes at me. I look up at Barclay, confused, then back to Peters. “Are you Contessa Holly, miss?”

“I am.” I tighten my fingers around Barclay’s hand. “Did something happen?”

“Well, miss. The hotel manager’s upstairs in your room with a couple NYPD.”