I blinked at him, then met Ursula’s eyes. Her wink told me she had no expectation of me joining them.
Meddling meddlers.
“I …” I met Kai’s interested expression. “I think I’ll have to pass.”
His hand squeezed my thigh before finding my own and intertwining our fingers.
“Thought so, but wanted to ask to make sure. I wouldn’t want to leave you behind, all alone,” Ursula said.
Boy, she laid it on thick.
“She won’t be alone,” Kai stated with his charming smile. “I’ll keep her company.”
Ama, Nadine, and Ursula sighed in unison.
Damn lethal Dutch charms.
Despite Ama kindly informing us she went to bed early, what a heavy sleeper she was, and how she wouldn’t wait up for me, I decided there was no way I would bring Kai to her house.
Instead, I grabbed an overnight bag while Kai and Kofi chatted in the driveway, waiting for me.
We had a week. Maybe a month. I wouldn’t waste time thinking about what everything meant or the future. We had now.
Carpe vir! Seize the man!
SOME PEOPLE MIGHT think sleeping with, and by sleeping I mean fucking, a man they’d recently met made a woman a slut.
I disagreed.
Two consenting adults, who both agreed to engage in sex with each other with no emotional strings attached and a mutual understanding—combined with sexual chemistry, respect, and a desire to pleasure each other—were about the healthiest kind of people there could be.
Being a woman not in my twenties, or even thirties, unmarried, never married, no kids, lacking the mothering gene, far from a size two, meant people saw me as a spinster, a charity case to be pitied, or worse, a pariah out to steal the good, married men.
In my book, there was nothing wrong about spinsters in the true definition. Or a slut, if she acted safe and healthy.
I wouldn’t go quietly into middle age.
No way.
I was healthy and safe. I knew what got me off and how. And I had a very hot, very turned on man—younger man I might add—who wanted me in the most carnal way.
I would be a fool to keep my knees together for propriety.
However, I wasn’t prepared for Kofi’s frown when he dropped us off at The Ambassador.
“You are a lady, Dr. Selah,” he reminded me, his expression serious.
I gave him a small, confused smile. “Thank you.”
In the lobby, I asked Kai what Kofi meant.
“He doesn’t approve of you spending the night with me. That sort of thing isn’t done in Ghana by proper ladies.”
“He literally frowned upon me when I got out of the car,” I said.
“Better than the look I received. I’ll explain things to him tomorrow.”
“What sort of things? I’m pretty sure he knows about the birds & the bees. He has five kids.”
Kai laughed. “No, I’ll explain about us. Set him straight.”
“About? Will you tell him you’re not stealing my virtue?”
Kai’s face grew solemn. “I didn’t know you weren’t a virgin.”
I choked on my own spit, my cough echoed across the marble floor and high ceilings of the grand lobby. Once I caught my breath, I gave Kai a side-long look. “My virtue is none of your business.”
He clutched his heart and acted offended. “I’m devastated.”
“Listen, the HMS Virginity sailed from San Francisco a long time ago. You were probably a toddler then.”
“Ouch.” He frowned, and his eye crinkles disappeared. “I’m not much younger than you. Age is relative.”
“Sure, easy for you to say.”
“Call me a whippersnapper, and I’m calling this whole thing off.” He continued to flirt when we entered the plush elevator, but as soon as the doors closed, he cornered me. “I hope you have the stamina to keep up with me.”
Where he pinned me with his hips, I could feel his hardness. He loomed over me, dominating in the most delightful way.
“I’m closer to my sexual peak than you are to yours. I hope you can handle me,” I whispered. Further words fell away when his lips crashed into mine.
Apparently, somewhere between the lobby and the elevator, we had lost all pretense about where this was heading, which was fine by me. I didn’t mind direct. In spite of my wavering and chickening out in Amsterdam, I was still myself. I didn’t need wooing and proclamations to seduce me into bed.
The ping announcing our arrival on his floor broke us apart, barely. He turned and backed me down the hall, his hands guiding me while his lips occupied themselves on my neck. I hit the wall near his door when he released me to find his key card.
Speaking of beds, holy luxurious king-sized bed with a million thread count sheets. If my twin beds at Ama’s could be any mid-rate hotel, this room earned its five stars. Polished dark woods, masculine grays, and crisp whites decorated the mini-suite with a sitting area on one side, and the aforementioned bed peeking out behind a column of a wall holding a flat screen TV.
TV. I hadn’t watched any since I left home. Suddenly, I missed my reality shows and the twenty-four-hour news cycle. I walked over to it and lovingly stroked its black surface.
“Did you caress the television?” Kai asked, standing behind me.
I turned to face him. “Maybe.” I looked around the space. “Was the elevator some sort of portal?”
“What do you mean?”
“This hotel belongs in New York. Or Vegas. Or Shanghai. It feels too grand, too fancy, too pretentious to exist in the land of Mona Lisa monkeys.”
“Do I even want to know about these Mona Lisa monkeys?”
“Long story.”
“Another time, then.” He glanced around the space. “It is kind of pretentious. Especially for people here to discuss loans for small businesses which could run for a month with the cost of a single night.”
“I’m trying not to judge.”
“Too late?”
“Too late. I don’t understand the whole money entitlement thing.”
He shrugged and looked slightly uncomfortable. “Another good reason you didn’t know who I was when we met.”
“Are you an entitled bastard?” Images of him in his custom suits came to mind.
“Let’s say I came from privilege and have been trying to make up for it ever since.”
“Sounds noble and humble.”
“Better than entitled bastard?”
“Much.”
“Some people might say I’m still a bastard.” He stalked closer to me, a lion trapping his prey.
“Who?” I whispered, my pulse thrumming in my ears.
He tipped his head and stared at me. “Why do I have the feeling you prefer the bad boys?” His eyes sparkled in the dim light from the room’s low table lamps. He ran his thumb over his bottom lip.
“Who doesn’t?” My voice trembled, betraying my excitement. Bad boys were my weakness. His suits and clean cut looks threw me off, but the look in his eye, and this new, dominating energy, had nothing to do with good deeds.
My back hit the wall, and I angled my face to meet his eyes, now hooded and heavy with lust. He dragged his thumb along my jaw. When it neared my lips, I grasped his thumb, sucking the tip into my warm mouth. Making eye contact, the spark from a few moments earlier morphed into flames.
I nipped the fleshy pad of his thumb, dragging my bottom teeth across the underside, giving him a taste of things to come. The thought of coming made me tighten my thighs together, seeking relief from the building ache.
“Selah,” he whispered, his voice husky.
I waited for him to continue, but instead he pulled his hand away from my mouth and replaced his thumb with his tongue. I much preferred the latter. His hands roamed down my body. One hand squeezed my breast while the other skimmed over my hip before resting on the curve of my ass. From the way his hands moved, it seemed he couldn’t decide if he was a boob or ass man. I had plenty of both for him to choose from.
Our height difference meant he had to contort himself to kiss me anywhere south of my neck. I put us both out of our misery when I escaped the cage of his arms and led him into the bedroom. At the edge of the bed, he surprised me by spinning me around to face him. I fell backward into the soft bedding, whiteness enveloping me.
“You look like a hot house flower in a field of snow.” His gaze scanned me from head to toe. He bent down and slowly removed my shoes, skimming his hands up my calves and under the long wrap skirt. His touch alternated between nothing to a scrape of his short nails.
I squirmed and moaned, and he hadn’t even reached my thighs yet.
He kicked off his own shoes, and then undid the buttons of his shirt. I leaned up on my elbows to watch.
Locking eyes with me, he took his time. My impatience got the better of me, and I leaned forward to finish the job, shoving his shirt off his broad shoulders. I took a moment to take in everything from his tanned skin and compact cluster of hair between his defined pecs. A slightly darker trail of hair started at his navel and ran south into his still buttoned pants. He was fit—swimmer or rower fit—all broad muscles at the top and narrowing down to his hips.
Holy mother of pearl, he had the V.
Damn Dutch V.
Damn younger man.
“You planning to stare at me all night with those emerald eyes of yours?” he asked, snapping me out of my worship of the V. I wanted to pray to it with my tongue. Instead, I reached out and slowly traced the ridge with my fingers.