The CEO’s one night stand

Chapter 4: A reckless night

Alex didn’t flinch. If anything, the smirk deepened, though something flickered in those blue eyes.

Nyla let out a sharp, humorless laugh. She leaned back against the booth, eyes narrowing slightly as she studied him.

“What exactly do you want from me?” she asked, voice low and edged. “Because I can smell a man in a relationship from across a room. And you reek of one.”

Alex’s expression didn’t change, but something colder settled behind his blue eyes. He held her gaze without flinching.

“I’m not in a relationship,” he said evenly. “Not anymore.”

Nyla tilted her head, unconvinced. “Convenient timing.”

He didn’t look away. “Is that a problem for you… or is it part of the appeal?”

“You could say that. Found out the man I thought I’d be with forever was on the other side of the continent right now. Except he is not on a business trip like he had told me.”

She scoffed and then bit her lower lip. Unknown to her, Alex found it sexy.

“My boyfriend was down on one knee for someone else a few hours ago. So forgive me if I’m not in the mood for charming men or whoever the hell you are, trying to sweep me off my feet with expensive drinks and smooth lines.”

She expected him to walk away. Most men did when a woman brought that kind of baggage to the bar.

He held her gaze. “I know it sounds weird, trust me I’m not usually like this. But can I take you to my place? We can just talk and have more drinks.”

Nyla stared at him. The offer was simple. Too simple. It was just an invitation that left the door open for whatever either of them decided to make of it.

Her pulse was still unsteady from everything that had already happened tonight. And now this man, with his calm blue eyes and the quiet intensity that made it hard to look away, was offering her a place to go that wasn’t her empty apartment.

“Okay.” She said in a low tune.

Alex’s expression didn’t shift much, but something in his shoulders eased. He stood, dropped enough cash on the table to cover far more than their meal, and waited while she rose.

Neither of them spoke as they walked out into the night.

The car was already waiting. Nyla only realized she had just agreed to go home with a stranger when the car pulled up to a huge building.

A doorman stepped forward the moment the vehicle stopped. Alex nodded once in acknowledgment and guided her through the glass entrance with a light touch at the small of her back.

An elevator waited, already open. Nyla kept her eyes on the glowing numbers till the penthouse opened up before them.

Alex closed the door behind them. He moved past her toward a minimalist bar along one wall, shrugging out of his jacket as he went. “Drink?” he asked, voice low, without looking back.

“Whatever you’re having.”

He poured two glasses of whiskey, neat, and handed one to her. Their fingers brushed. Neither pulled away.

They drank in silence at first, standing near the windows with the city glittering below. The alcohol burned warm and the space between them shrank with every sip.

Nyla set her empty glass down first. Alex watched her do it, then finished his own and placed it beside hers.

He stepped closer. Close enough that she had to tilt her head to meet his eyes.

“You still haven’t told me your name,” he said quietly.

She didn’t respond. Instead, she closed the remaining distance herself, rising onto her toes as his mouth met hers.

The kiss was immediate and hungry, carrying nothing soft to it. Alex’s hand slid into her hair, the other gripping her waist and pulling her flush against him.

She made a small sound against his mouth and felt him answer it with a deeper press of his lips.

Within seconds, they were already moving without speaking. His shirt, shoes, the rest of it—discarded in a trail toward the wide couch that faced the windows.

Alex’s hands were sure, controlled even in urgency. Nyla matched him, fingers working at his pants, pushing it off his thighs and mapping the hard lines of his chest and stomach as he lowered her down.

Strong hands gripped her hips, lifting her effortlessly so her legs wrapped around his waist. The expensive fabric of her short black dress rode up around her thighs as he pressed against her, already rock-hard.

A low, rough groan vibrated from his chest when she rolled her hips, grinding against the thick outline of his c**k through his underwear.

Nyla answered by biting his lower lip, tugging it between her teeth. He tasted like whiskey and bad decisions, the exact opposite of what she’d been chasing tonight. But she couldn’t resist him. The man was unfairly gorgeous. He looked like trouble wrapped in luxury.

He kissed a path down her throat while her legs wrapped around him. When he finally pushed into her, both of them exhaled hard—like something that had been wound too tight all night had finally snapped.

It was fast and rough around the edges. Exactly what they both needed.

“Oh oh—” she moaned, fingers threading through his hair, hips rocking against his face. The wet sounds of his mouth on her echoed through the penthouse.

He set a punishing rhythm, hips snapping forward, the sound of skin meeting skin filling the air as he f****d her on his expensive countertop.

She moaned soft at first, then louder as he lifted her, her legs wrapping around his waist. He carried her to the bedroom where they went on for about twenty more minutes.

When he finally laid her on his bed, the city lights spilling across her skin through the floor-to-ceiling windows, he paused for half a second just to look at her.

She was stunning. Messy brunette waves, full lips parted, eyes gleaming with desire.

Then he was on her again, and everything narrowed to heat and friction and the intoxicating sounds she made those breathy little gasps turning into throaty moans that drove him wild.

Isla had nothing on this woman. He hissed, why was he thinking about Isla when he was banging a goddess at midnight in his penthouse?

He took his time, drawing it out until she was trembling beneath him, nails digging into his shoulders.

When she finally shattered around him, crying out, Alex followed right after, burying his face in her neck as pleasure tore through him like lightning.

They didn’t talk much afterward. A few lazy kisses, her fingers tracing idle patterns on his chest, his hand stroking down the curve of her waist.

Eventually she fell asleep curled against him, and for once, Alexander didn’t mind the warmth of another body in his bed.

He should have asked her name then.

But no. He was Alexander Gavin and this woman was just another hooker. Except she wasn’t.