His tone said it all. Surely he couldn’t be faking it?
Delirious at the realization, she could only smile down at him.
The dreamy smile on Saffi’s innocently beautiful face practically knocked Staffan off his feet.
“I was waiting for you to get me.” She bent even lower, her br**sts tantalizingly close to his face as she touched his ear with her lips. “I was waiting for you to take what I promised.”
He couldn’t move fast enough at her words. Staffan pulled her down the ledge in one swift, graceful move while taking care to ensure that no one ever had the chance to see what was – or wasn’t – underneath his trench coat. His heart was beating fast as he made his way to the elevator, with Saffi in his arms.
One thing he had to say about her: she was great for cardio. With her around, there was always a reason for him to move quickly, his heart beating a mile a minute.
When the elevator doors closed on them, Saffi barely had time to breathe before Staffan had her legs wrapped around his waist, his lips slamming on hers. They groaned in unison when her sex rubbed against his c**k as she locked her arms around his neck. She pushed herself closer to him, so desperately eager to have every inch of their bodies touching the same time her tongue entered his mouth and her ni**les stretched and pricked his chest.
“Staffan.” Just being able to say his name out loud as Staffan kissed and held her in his arms was an exquisite pleasure, and it drove her crazier.
He shuddered, even more aroused by the way her voice lovingly wrapped itself all around his name. She was a natural born temptress, needing no sexual experience to beguile men. All men.
But no one else would f**king have her because Saffi March was his.
The elevator doors finally slid open. Saffi stiffened, and his hold tightened in response. Keeping her in his arms, legs still wrapped around his waist, Staffan walked briskly down the hallway.
Encountering the surprised gazes of housemaids and bellhops made Saffi flush red, and she quickly tucked her face in the crook of his neck, closing her eyes, and inhaling his scent.
Oh God, he smelled so wonderful. He had taken a shower during their flight, and the fresh scent of his shampoo just made her more eager to find out what it would be like to have Staffan make love to her.
Not Staffan Aehrenthal the billionaire rockstar.
Not Sweden’s #1 Sex God.
Not Mr. Rockstar Chic.
But just Staffan – the man she had secretly felt so incredibly close to even though they had never met.
Serendipity, she thought giddily then giggled when another thought occurred to her. “Serendipity” wasn’t enough. If it was Staffan he would call it something else.
Fucking serendipity.
Staffan sensed Saffi smiling against his skin as he took them out of the elevator, and the thought of it made his heart kick up a weird fuss. But it also intensified his arousal and he quickened his pace, practically running towards the suite. Forget about being looking f**king cool! All he wanted was to f**k Saffi March and he was going to f**king kill anyone who f**king stood in his way.
Bob opened the door to his suite for him.
Staffan paused just before going in. “H.” It was an effort to speak when all he could think of was finally making Saffi his.
“Mm?” she mumbled against his skin, the heat of her cheeks telling him how mortified she still felt.
“Do I need to buy condoms?”
“No,” Saffi answered without hesitation. She had bought her pills three months ago, the moment after he called, but he didn’t have to know that.
“Are you sure?”
“The pills are inside my bag. You can check them.”
He pressed a kiss to her hair, unable to help it. “Sorry for being an ass. I just wanted to be sure.”
She kissed his neck. “I understand.”
The tenderness of her action and her words didn’t escape Staffan – or Bob. He looked at his bodyguard, whose face was expressionless. “No one disturbs us,” he said in a hard voice.
Politely keeping his gaze off the girl in his employer’s arms, her face a picture of embarrassment, Bob answered, “Yes, boss.”
The door slammed shut in his face, followed immediately by a long, loud whimper.
Bob allowed himself a small grin. For almost a year now, Staffan had been an unfeeling bastard, uncaring of what happened in his life. Following the breakup, Staffan had been careful to maintain the same image, allowing him to be photographed with different women. But what no one knew outside his crew was that none of those women had made it to his bed.
Who would have thought that someone like this “H” – whose cute and clueless ways made Bob and everyone else suspect her as anything but a groupie – would be the one to get the famous rockstar to start living – and ha**ng s*x – again?
The Sex God was back.
Bob silently prayed it would stay that way. A happy sexually satisfied Staffan Aehrenthal was a much easier employer to serve than someone who was celibate, perpetually drunk, and violently bad-tempered.
~~~
The moment they entered the room, Staffan pushed her back against the door, kissing her even more hungrily, one hand supporting her while his other hand hurriedly untied the knot keeping his trench coat close around her. Groaning, she helped him get rid of the coat. It fell to the floor, the same time Staffan gently lowered her to the ground without breaking their kiss.
“I’m dying to f**k you.” His voice was a rough, low murmur, his breath fanning her ear as he spoke, and it was like having him sing to her and only her.
Her insides melted at the thought, and she trembled for more than one reason.
Staffan pulled away to rip her cropped top away, leaving her completely naked.
Saffi whimpered, unbearably turned on at the realization that she had nothing on while Staffan was still fully clothed. It was deliciously decadent, something that no one who knew Saffi March would ever imagine happening to her.
His eyes devoured her, and he growled in protest when she started to cover her br**sts and cross her legs together in order to shield herself.
“Don’t tell me an experienced woman like you is shy about being naked.”
Knitting kingfish!
She had almost forgotten what she was supposed to be tonight and the rest of the weekend. Saffi forced herself to let her hands fall away from her body. Straightening, she slowly walked past him, her h*ps swaying---a timeless and instinctive wile that she unconsciously used.
His dick grew larger and harder, and his eyes followed Saffi’s every move. She could never be a groupie. Saffi was just too beautiful inside, too innocent, and too refined to be one step above a paid whore. But she was a natural-born temptress, and every second that went by convinced Staffan that he had finally found the girl who might just erase the vile bitterness of the past.