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  "Thank … you … God. So you must be Jenna's little sister?" he asked, sending chills through my overheated body. My underwear was soaked by now. Even I could smell how aroused I was.

  "If Mike knew what I wanted to do to his hot little sister-in-law right now, he'd have my balls."

  I still hadn't turned around. My legs were shaking; my brain was drawing a blank. I was much braver in my fantasies. Thank God there was no one in the kitchen to see us. WAIT! Reality hit me—where was everybody? Shouldn't the other staff members be helping me with the clean up? Oh my God, can somebody see us? I thought. I remembered the one-way glass and started to turn my head around to check just in case anyone else was there. That's when Louis Bruel's lips brushed my cheek as I turned my head. I guess that was the official moment I stopped breathing. I gathered all my strength and turned to face him inside his loose grip. I looked up at him, trying to seem in control of the situation. After what felt like twenty minutes of me craning my head up to his towering height, he broke our silent stare-off.

  "I can't believe how beautiful your eyes are, little girl. They remind me of the water in Turks and Caicos. Your hair is the color of the sand there."

  He was smiling the most beautiful smile I have ever seen, showing off that glorious dimple and his perfect white teeth. I still was not breathing. This had to be one of my daydreams. Surely, I was about to wake up wet in my bed panting. Is this the part in my dream where Louis Bruel asks me to join him and a few other girls in a hotel room?

  He continued talking. "We have a property on the market right now that we're selling in Turks. I have a private showing tomorrow. I'd like you to come with me this weekend, so I can show it to you. What do you say, Jenna's little sister?"

  The first thing that popped into my head was, "I'm not really looking to buy anything in Turks and Caicos at the moment." He stared at me silently, assessing my response.

  "Touché, little girl, but just to be clear my offer still stands. I was only planning on showing you the bedroom, not the whole house," he said with a mischievous smile.

  Was he crazy? I'd barely said two words to him! He hadn't even introduced himself. He didn't even know my name for God's sake and he wanted to take me to bed in Turks and Caicos. Wow, he was a real arrogant dick, I concluded. If my sister knew what he'd just proposed to me, if she walked in and saw us like this, she would have my head. Mike would have Louis' balls. My mother would have a stroke and my dad would just shoot him point blank.

  I collected myself and answered his slimy comment. "My name is Emily Marcus, by the way. It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Bruel, right? I usually don't leave the country with men that don't know my name or haven't at least had coffee with." That elicited yet another panty dropping, dimple showing smile. That smirk should've been illegal. He really was too gorgeous to be real.

  "Emily, call me Louis. Mr. Bruel on your lips makes me sound like a molester," he said, almost into my mouth.

  He was so close that if I moved even to take in a breath I would've collided with his mouth.

  "I accept your coffee offer. Let's go, little girl."

  Oh. My. God! Louis Bruel wanted to have coffee with me! His dark eyes had the sexiest little sparkle when he smiled. He was even more beautiful up close and personal. I could definitely get used to that smile and that face. If this was a dream, I didn't want anyone to wake me.

  *****

  Coffee at the Grand Hotel lobby was spent mostly in comfortable silence. The feel of the place was chic, sophisticated and exclusive—very Louis Bruel. Even the music filtering in was like nothing I've even heard before; it was smooth and sexy but you could still dance to the underlying beat. This place was definitely not my cup of tea, or coffee, in this case. The tables were tiny. I was sitting next to him trembling on the inside, yet desperately trying to appear calm, cool, and collected for his sake. I was even sitting on my hands, to stop myself from fidgeting with the cappuccino. Clearly that was the dumbest move ever; I only managed to shove my boobs forward and accentuate my raised nipples. He was trying hard not look down, but he failed miserably. I think I even saw him salivating. I released my hands from under me and went back to playing with my beverage. I was struggling to figure out what in the world am I doing with Louis Bruel alone at a hotel?

  We were sitting close together and smiling quietly, drinking in one another. After two hours and two cups of coffee, Louis finally asked, "Emily, would you let me take you to dinner upstairs? I'd love to know what's been floating around in that pretty little head of yours."

  I didn't feel in a hurry to part from my dream boyfriend. I didn't know any more about Louis than I knew two hours prior. I wanted to accept his dinner invitation, but first I had to make sure of something, "Louis, you want to have a real dinner with me, like in a restaurant with food, not go up to one of the hotel rooms, right?"

  He smiled, got up, extended his hand to me and said, "No bed, just food." As I got up and took his hand he added lasciviously, "For now!"

  I really wasn't that hungry, and even if I were, I don't think I could've eaten a thing with Louis Bruel watching my every move. I needed to grow up, find my confidence, and ask him everything that was spinning around in my mush of a brain.

  Once he ordered us a few dishes to share, I asked him, in a very prim and proper tone, "Louis, tell me a little about you."

  He hadn't yet looked away from me. Still smiling, he answered, "Nothing really to tell. What you see is what you get. Do you like what you see?"

  The smile plastered on my face since we sat down dropped and died. I didn't like the feeling I got in my gut from his reply. He suddenly felt as genuine as a used car salesman. I realized that maybe I should stick with my "make believe" version of Louis Bruel. Make believe was more my speed and was also set to mute most of the time. I smiled my fake smile and nodded at his generic line. Time for me to pack my cards up and go, I thought sadly. I didn't sleep around with random boys or men. I wasn't one of those girls, as much as I would've loved to be a slut with this hot man sitting so close to me … I just wasn't. My sister was spot on as to the type of guy Louis Bruel was. As gorgeous as he might have been, he was just another rich playboy always getting whatever he wanted. I broke our staring game and finally spoke up to the vain, beautiful stranger still wearing a triumphant smile.

  "It's really getting late. I think it's time for me to go catch a cab. I need to get home. Thank you so much for coffee and dinner. It's been very nice meeting you, Louis."

  The way he visibly sobered at my remark and, for the first time, looked uneasy made me rethink my last character assessment of him. He dropped that fake smile, sat up straight, looked down at his hands on the table, and after a few deep breaths said, "Emily … you can't go … not yet. Let me try this again."

  How could anybody say no to him? After that, Louis Bruel got comfortable, dropped the sly pretenses and started to really talk to me.

  "What do you want to know about me?"

  I think that round went to a Ms. Emily Marcus. That would serve as payback for our kitchen encounter. Had I just humbled Mr. Louis Bruel?

  "Tell me about your family … your parents, your brothers or sister…"

  He smiled at my question. Louis seemed a little surprised. I'm sure most women just wanted to know about his money and status.

  "No brothers, no sisters, just me. I grew up in Connecticut with my mom."

  "What happened to your father?" I don't know how I had enough nerve to ask him that.

  "My dad lived across the street from us my whole life. But my parents never married each other, or anyone else. I guess marriage just wasn't for them."

  I sighed at his description of his parents' relationship, trying to imagine my mother and father not living together. He picked up on the sympathy that flashed in my eyes.

  "Emily, don't feel bad for me. I had a normal childhood, except for living on both sides of the same street."

  I wanted to ask him why hi
s parents never married. Did he not believe in marriage either? That would explain why he dated so many women. But I just couldn't get my nerve back. It was quiet again. He wasn't really volunteering any information. If I wanted to know more about him I had to talk. What should I ask him? Why did he have to be so intimidating when he looked at me? I forgot how to put words together and make sentences, for the love of God. I was just about to ask him about his company when he started talking.

  "Five years ago my dad died of a heart attack. So imagine me at his funeral. I'd just lost my dad. I was still in school back then, getting my MBA from NYU. I was in a state of shock, to put it mildly. An attorney walked over to me and informed me my dad had a will. I figured he left me his house and his prized classic Jaguar." He stopped talking and looked up at me. "I hope I'm not boring you, talking about all this. Are you still with me, Emily?"

  I was hanging on to each word like a lifeline. How could he ask me if this was boring? He could've been describing a biochemical reaction and I would've eaten it up. "Yeah, of course I'm with you. I like hearing about your life. I'm sorry to hear about your father, Louis."

  "Thank you. I like telling you about my life. Okay, back to my story. So, the next day I go with my mom to the attorney, Mr. Waxman's, office, for the will reading. He informs me that my mom and I are the sole beneficiaries to my dad's estate. I inherited two-thirds of everything, which, to my mom's surprise, was a shit load. My inheritance included over twenty huge buildings around New York City. Emily, my mom and I were flabbergasted. It was a whirlwind; we went from middle class to nouveau riche in the blink of an eye. We never knew about any of his stocks or properties. Eric Bruel was loaded. We knew my dad as an accountant who lived a pretty middle-of-the-road kind of life. His only big splurges were a classic 1952 Jaguar XK120 Roadster and paying for my college. I found out he'd acquired these amazing properties in the early ‘60s and ‘70s, which today are in some of the most sought-after areas of New York. I knew then that real estate was my calling."

  I was shocked by all the information he was divulging. I was afraid he would stop talking so I listened silently.

  Louis continued, "When I graduated business school I formed my real estate company with the savings I'd accumulated over the years. I have yet to touch any of the money my dad left me. That's my rainy day fund," he said with a sexy wink.

  It was interesting to hear Louis describe how he was a nobody in the New York real estate world and how he couldn't get a listing to save his life. If I had a house I'd let him sell it—hell, I'd let him do anything he wanted at this point.

  "After not getting any major listings or making any money after a year, I decided it was time to finally start selling a few of my dad's buildings. Putting them on the market was hard. It was like selling a piece of me."

  His voice was deep and commanding. Could something actually be hard for this larger-than-life superman sitting beside me? When he said a piece of me, I wanted to reach out and touch him. I could listen to him talk for eternity. All he was doing was telling me about himself and here I was becoming more aroused than I'd ever been in my life.

  "In the last three years my firm has sold over five hundred and fifty million dollars worth of real estate in New York and half of those sales came from the buildings my dad left me."

  I'd be lying if I said I wasn't impressed. Louis, sensing that all of this information was starting to intimidate me, suddenly changed the course of conversation and started to ask me questions.

  "I should've known you were Jenna's sister."

  "Why? Do you think we look alike?"

  "Nope—it's the eye color; it's very rare. I remember Mike always raving about his girlfriend's beautiful eye color when we were rooming together at school. But your eyes are even more amazing. I've been sitting here babbling about myself. Why don't you tell me a little about you and your family? All I know is that you have a sister named Jenna and Mike is your brother-in-law."

  Okay, Emily, your turn. You can do this. All I needed to do was form coherent sentences without looking like a fool.

  "My life is kind of boring. I grew up in the city on the Upper East Side. I just graduated from high school two weeks ago. I was accepted to four out-of-state universities but I decided to stay local and go to NYU like Jenna and Mike. I haven't decided yet what I want to be when I grow up." I moved my body to face Louis, getting a little braver.

  "I'm glad you decided to stay here for school. Tell me about your parents." Louis also shifted his body to face me getting a little closer.

  "My parents met in medical school and got married right after they graduated. I only have one sibling, Jenna, who's older than me by seven years."

  "Do you have a boyfriend?" Louis asked and then brushed my arm with his hand, accidentally or not.

  My breath got caught in my throat from the jolt of electricity I felt and I couldn't even remember my own name. It was magic. He took my reaction to his touch either as No, I don't have a boyfriend, or If I have a boyfriend then I'll break up with him immediately, because he continued the journey with his fingertips up my arm and lingered at my exposed shoulder. I still had all my hair pulled back in a low ponytail from the party earlier.

  He leaned in closer and whispered in my ear, "Could you make my night and release your hair? I've been imagining it down for hours."

  I took a long breath and like a marionette doll did just that. I released my long blonde hair—per his request; it came down in waves around my shoulders and his lingering fingers. Louis was the one to stop breathing now. I smiled at his response. I really couldn't believe I could affect this beautiful man like that. He moved his fingers from my shoulders where he was drawing imaginary circles. He placed his hand at the base of my neck and then brushed his thumb over my swollen, half-opened lips. We were looking at each other's lips when he drew his tongue to wet his. My heart was beating out of my chest. He leaned down for the softest kiss I've ever experienced. I'm not really sure our lips even touched. He tore his gaze from mine, threw two hundred dollar bills on the table, and without another word led us out of the restaurant.

  Chapter 5

  When dreams come true...

  Louis led me down the stairs to the hotel's underground garage where he informed me his car was parked. I was trying hard to keep up with his fast paced strides; for every one of his steps I took two. I was still wearing my black heels; well, technically they were Sara's heels, which she swore would get me noticed. In actuality, what Sara really said when she brought the skyscrapers over earlier that day was, "If these puppies don't get you laid, nothing will." Looking down at my aching feet, I wished he opted for the elevator. I needed to calm myself down or I'd hyperventilate before we even reached the bottom of the staircase. Why was he in such a rush to get rid of me? Did I say something wrong?

  "I don't want to scare you, Emily, but I'm being a really good boy and restraining myself from ripping that poor excuse for a top off you. I'm regretting my promise to not take you to one of the rooms upstairs."

  It's a good thing he wasn't looking at me as he said those words because I could feel my skin take on a magenta tint. My brain was taking extra time in explaining to the rest of my body that this was not a dream. All of a sudden my feet didn't hurt anymore, my left hand, which Louis had a crushing grip on, stopped throbbing, and all I felt was my heart beating out of my chest.

  Once we got to Louis' car he pulled me flush against his hard body and pressed his lips against mine. He kissed me with everything he had. The kiss was so desperate and rough that I couldn't catch my breath. I was making little moaning sounds into his mouth. His tongue was probing and digging so deep inside me I was sure he could feel where my tonsils used to be. It felt like nothing I had ever done in my life. If this was what just a kiss felt like with Louis Bruel, I was in very big trouble. His neck must've hurt from bending low to reach my lips, as he suddenly lifted me like I weighed nothing and placed me on the roof of his car so he could stan
d between my parted legs and continue to kiss me without craning his neck.

  We enjoyed about ten minutes of nonstop, hard-core kissing, with him running his fingers through my hair and down my back. He moved away from me to remove my black heels and lifted me off the car then commanded, "Wrap your legs around my waist, baby and hold on tight."

  I obeyed like the rag doll that I was slowly turning into. He opened his car door with one hand, holding me tight with the other and sat us both into the driver's seat with me straddling him like a primate. He adjusted the seat as far away from the steering wheel as possible. His crotch was nestled perfectly between my parted legs. I was panting and couldn't stop myself from shamelessly rubbing against his erection like the horny teenager that I was. He was along for the ride, gyrating with me and enjoying every second of it, moaning and groaning his satisfaction. Louis Bruel was into me. I actually felt like I was the one driving him crazy and not the other way around. How was that even possible?

  I remember every detail of that evening. We were insatiable, as if the world's end was looming and our touching, kissing, and sucking would single-handedly save it from destruction. While I buried my head at the back of his neck I inhaled his heady cologne. The air inside the car was laced with the scent of him, me, and new leather. There was no backseat, but behind him I could make out stacks and stacks of files and papers. The tiny sports car looked like his mobile office.

  I'd had some practice fooling around before with boys, but this was different. Louis Bruel was a real man, not a boy. I felt wanton and brave sitting in his lap. His large beautiful hands knew exactly what they were doing. He was touching me everywhere, making my body hum. His lips were soft and yet he kissed me with such force that I felt he couldn't get his tongue deep enough into me.

  "Emily, let's get out of here. I want to take you to my apartment," he said, out of breath into my mouth in the now steamy car. "There I could just spread you out in bed and take my time touching every part of your sexy little body."