Mr. Forrester: An Alpha Billionaire Romance Page 2

  The heat from the water worked its way into her knotted neck, relaxing the tension that would build there from all the stress. The water flowed over her skin beautifully, sluicing away the sweat and nerves of the fashion show.

  Reaching out for the body wash and scrubber, she worked up a lather of orange ginger scented suds before washing herself. As the soft cloth ran over her skin, she felt a warmth start to form in her body that had nothing to do with the water of the shower. She could feel her nipples tightening under the rough tickle of the scrubber, and her heart sped up as she pinched one of them through the fabric. Dropping the scrubber, she ran her fingertips over her breasts, cupping them and massaging them in the way she wished she could have someone else do. She moaned thickly in need, her mind filled with images of a fantasy man who could do things to her right there in the shower, fulfilling her desires. Her thighs were pressed tightly together, the soft ache in between calling for her touch. Erica was so tempted to reach down and take care of her own needs, to slip her fingers inside and bring herself the much needed release that her body was aching for, but she decided against it. Maybe after dinner, when she could afford the time to truly bring herself to the point of full climax and could use the heady orgasmic rush to push her fully into sleep, but not yet. Besides, she had made it a bit of a game with herself, to see if she could control her own desires until she was ready to give in to them.

  Shutting the water off, Erica quickly dried her body before looking at her hair in the mirror. While her wavy locks were the blessing of what her grandmother claimed was a Cherokee ancestor, she still had to give her hair much more attention than some of the models she had worked with, whose blonde and soft browns needed only a simple brushing, or the Asian girls whose hair practically stayed sleek and perfect constantly. It was thick, and it did require a little more maintenance to keep it looking good.

  Finding her wide toothed comb, she worked slowly, getting all the tangles out until her hair hung down in the shiny waves she preferred. The most difficult task completed, she then rubbed coconut oil over her skin, as the cool London air dried it out far too much for her comfort, before pulling on a simple skirt and a sweater. While part of her wanted to dress up and see if she could find a man to help her with the sexual urges still stirring within her, she wasn't in the mood to deal with high heels or any of the other things needed to attract a man's eye. Glancing at herself in the mirror again, she thought she looked good enough to find a seat in the hotel bar, which supposedly had lots of good comfort food.

  Making her way down the elevator and through the hotel lobby, she waved at the few people who she recognized. Thankfully, the Grange Hotel was a classic five star hotel, traditionally decorated and very upper crust British. Most of the fashionistas preferred to stay in much less expensive and more trendier places. The Grange would not tolerate drunken model orgies, which she'd heard some of the girls engaged in, especially during the Paris and Milan shows. She'd never been that sort of person, even during the days she walked the runway, preferring instead to sit in her room and read instead of party. She'd earned her bachelor's degree that way, and it had given her the educational background she needed to make EW work. Removing herself from the fashion scene, if even just for a few hours to sleep, was refreshing for her, and she made it a point to book a hotel that was quiet and reserved.

  Making her way across to the bar, she found it was relatively busy, with quite a few men in suits and women in dresses already gathered around the long granite bar, flirting and drinking away the stresses of the work week. Thankfully, there was a small table near the window which overlooked the busy streets outside, the River Thames off in the distance. It was relaxing, and Erica felt herself settle into the plush chair gratefully. The waitress came over and took her order, a pint of Guinness. Erica always lived by the rule of When in Rome, do as the Romans, especially when it came to food and alcohol.

  While waiting for her pint, Erica scanned the crowd, wondering if there was anyone she knew. She didn't, but there was one man standing near the center of the granite that caught her attention almost immediately. He was turned sideways to her, so all she could see was his profile, but he was tall, with the sort of face that she fingered as belonging to a former model. Being in the business, she could see he was a bit older than most designers liked, maybe in his late twenties or early thirties, with only a hint of weathering on his face. It looked like he was from a warm climate; she could tell from the healthy glow on his tan skin and the effect it had on his light brown hair, which she assumed would be more of a chestnut brown if he stayed out of the sun long enough. He had a firm jaw line, and full lips that she could only describe as luscious. Her mind wandered back to her desires in the shower, and knew that those lips could bring her plenty of satisfaction.

  She sat for a moment in her little fantasy when he quietly turned his face towards her and their eyes met. Erica felt a force she had never experienced before leap between them as his crystal blue eyes met hers, an electric spark seemed to almost leap between them, sending the rest of the room into darkness as her entire focus became his handsome face with the piercing blue eyes. She could feel her heart thudding in her chest as her hands tightened almost painfully in her lap.

  She was just about to get up and approach the bar when two women, both incredibly beautiful, European, and dressed for the evening came up to the man, smiling and flirting with him, breaking the mood. He turned his eyes away for a moment, and she felt a surge of jealousy as the two girls shamelessly flirted and hit up the man. He broke into an easy smile that left Erica thrumming with arousal even though it wasn't pointed in her direction.

  For the next hour, as Erica sipped her Guinness, she continually felt her eyes being pulled back to the man, and twice their eyes met over the crowd who gathered around him. Whoever he was, the man had the sort of magnetic personality that just pulled people to him. He commanded their attention, far different from the yapping wannabes she saw on a daily basis. She yearned to go up to him, but every time she would feel courageous enough to do it, another young girl in a tight dress or a glad-handing buddy would draw the his attention away, and she sank back into her seat, frustrated. She didn't want to be part of some sort of nebulous cloud around him, she wanted that one on one connection she’d felt earlier, even if it was only for a moment.

  Finally, she threw back the last of her pint, and just stared out at the Thames, her mind wandering towards what she had to accomplish over the next week to be ready for the Milan show. If that show went as successfully as the London and Tokyo shows, EW designs would be set for the year, and she could look forward to really turning some profit. She was so deep in thought that she was surprised when she heard someone set another pint of Guinness next to her on the wooden table and she let out a little squeak.

  "Sorry, I didn't mean to frighten you," a seductively rich voice said, and Erica turned her eyes towards the speaker, shocked when she saw the handsome face from the man at the bar. He was carrying another pint of Guinness, and a massive basket of fish and chips. "I was just wondering if you would be willing to share a pint and a basket with me."

  Erica could barely formulate an answer, the man was so handsome, his presence so commanding and magnetic.

  "Uhhh, sure," she finally got out, gesturing towards the empty chair across from her. "I'd love some food.”

  The man chuckled softly, the sound causing Erica's body to respond with desire. Even his laugh was sexy, it seemed. "That's not the usual response I get, but thank you. It's a refreshing bit of honesty."

  "I try to be honest," Erica replied, sipping gratefully at her pint, the alcohol wetting her nervous throat. "So, what's your name?"

  "Dwayne Forrester," the man replied, with a bit of a hitch that left Erica wondering if she was supposed to recognize it. "And you are?"

  "Erica Williams," she replied, reaching for one of the fried potatoes. It was a guilty pleasure from her days growing up in the poor side of Miami. When her family ha
d money, that usually meant having fried potatoes. Crinkly cut, oven style, shoestring, it didn't matter. The association between a good fried potato and security had stuck with her even through the modeling years. "So from your accent, I take it you're not British."

  "Neither are you," Dwayne replied with a laugh as he took a sip of his pint. "I'm in London on business. Forgive me for assuming, but are you the Erica Williams of EW Men's Wear?"

  Erica nodded. "You're in fashion, I take it."

  Dwayne laughed, shaking his head. "Not at all. Actually, I was trying to speak to you earlier today. I'm the CEO of Forrester Caribbean Hotels. Your assistant said she would send you my information?"

  "I'm sure Tina did," Erica replied, hiding her surprise at the chance meeting. This was the eye candy that Tina had told her about? Damn, she should have made the time hours ago, but then again, fate seemed to have intervened for her thankfully. "But honestly, I haven't even checked my phone in the past few hours. After the show, I was too exhausted to do anything but nap and shower. Jet lag is a killer. So what are you doing in London on business?"

  For the next hour, the two talked, starting with business, then edging towards personal matters. She learned that Dwayne was an athlete, spending at least an hour a day swimming in the ocean near his office, or working out in some way or another. She revealed her love of anything seafood, and told him about her Miami roots.

  "It shows in your designs," Dwayne remarked. "You really do carry a mix of Latin and American influences in your ideas. Also, you carry enough of what some people call an urban influence. You really do a great job of balancing a lot of different styles at once."

  "Thank you. Most people don't recognize that," she said, impressed. "I guess living in the Caribbean, you would understand."

  "I grew up there, actually," Dwayne replied. "My father started off with running the Caribbean arm of the family business when he was young too, although it was still a wholly owned subsidiary of the family business. Grandfather sent him down there to learn the ropes, so to speak, and I spent the first eleven years of my life living in the Virgin Islands. I didn't move to the mainland US until I was in junior high school."

  "So are you doing the same thing now? Learning the family business?"

  Dwayne shook his head. "Not really. A few years back, when my trust fund came fully into my hands, I used the money to do a leveraged buyout of those hotels from my father. He and I... let's just say we don't see eye to eye on a lot of things, although I try to at least keep our relationship civil." There was pain on Dwayne's face, but he suppressed it quickly to focus his eyes back on her, a thing she found more and more unsettling, mainly because she knew she was becoming aroused from it.

  "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to pry."

  Dwayne shook his head. "No, that's fine. It's refreshing to talk to someone who sees me as a real person and not the public image I had for so long. Listen, I know this is a bit presumptuous, but would you like to get out of here? I'm not in the mood for more alcohol, honestly. I’ve learned to limit how much I drink. But I’ would like the pleasure of your company if you'd join me."

  Erica thought about it for only a second before she grabbed the last cold potato out of the basket of fish and chips and tossed it into her mouth. “I’d love to."

  Leaving the hotel, the pair walked along the River Thames. Erica was glad to have her sweater since it was still quite chilly, and she was grateful when she felt Dwayne put her arm around her. "Sorry, I didn't expect the night to be this cold," he said, as her body responded to the nearness of his. "I keep forgetting that I'm not in the Islands any longer, where I can walk outside wearing pretty much anything I want day or night."

  She could feel her heart speed up again, and the smell of his skin was even more intoxicating than the two pints of Guinness. "That's okay," she returned, wrapping her arm around his waist. "Miami's the same. This time of year down there, we're in t-shirts and flip flops most of the time. I only dress up for work purposes."

  They stopped, and she turned towards him. He was taller than her, and she felt herself thrill at the feel of his firm muscles under his dress shirt. "I've been wondering for a while...." he began, before drawing her in for a kiss. Erica thrilled at the softness of his lips on hers, and when his tongue pressed against her mouth, she opened willingly, letting him taste her intimately. His hands were strong and sure, holding her close as the two kissed with rising passion. Erica could see flashes before her eyes when the kiss finally broke, and she could feel her body mold against his.

  "Yes?" she asked, a light smile playing on her lips.

  "Well, that was the answer I was hoping for, but let me get the whole question out," Dwayne whispered, his voice soft in her ear. "I was going to ask if you'd like to see the penthouse.”

  "I think my answer is the same," she replied. "I'd like that very much."

  On the way back to the hotel, they didn't talk much, letting their arms explore the limited reach they could have in public. Erica could feel his strength and power through his touch on her right arm, filling her with desire to feel more. At the same time, her own hand was busy exploring his side and ribs, enjoying the texture of his firm muscles under his shirt. Making their way through the hotel lobby, she let go of his waist to hold onto his arm instead, the occasional brush of his arm against her left breast causing her to stiffen inside her bra.

  Stepping inside the elevator, Dwayne pulled out a special magnetic key she hadn't seen before, sliding it into a slot above the floor numbers, and the car went up directly. "The penthouse is secured this way," he explained, pulling his key out and putting it back in his jacket. "Now, where were we?"

  "Right about here," Erica replied, throwing her arms around his neck and kissing him again. She was normally much more reserved, but there was something about him. The commanding presence of his eyes, the power of his taut body, and the aura he had around him that left her wanton with desire.

  She was enraptured when he kissed her back, his hands much more exploratory than they had been on the riverside, reaching down to cup her ass, pulling her into him. She groaned at the strength of his hands and the feeling of his hard cock pressing up against her, and she felt tempted to drop to her knees, to see if she could get him out of his pants before the elevator stopped. Before she could move however, the ride was over, and the doors opened.

  With a slight dip of his legs, Dwayne picked her up and carried her across the penthouse suite to the gigantic brocaded sofa against the wall. She was able to grasp the sense of color in the room, a modest gray and gold that screamed of elegance and refined class.

  Before she knew it, his lips were on her neck, sucking and licking at her skin hotly. His hands pulled at her sweater, sliding beneath the wool to send electric ripples of pleasure through her body as his fingers touched her bare skin. Pulling herself back, she shook her head. "Uh uh," she said, pushing him back a bit.

  He sat back, confused. “Having second thoughts?”

  Erica laughed, shaking her head as she reached down and pulled her sweater off. "No, of course not. But I'm wearing a hundred dollar sweater, and that's at least a two thousand dollar suit, and more importantly I’m not wandering through the halls of this hotel in a bathrobe because we tore our clothes off each other."

  Dwayne resettled himself on the sofa opposite her, a small smirk on his handsome features. "Then strip."

  Erica was startled by the change in his demeanor. It wasn't that he became cold or hard, but instead, his voice took a gravitas of command, a tone that brooked no disagreement, and she felt herself standing up from the couch without even realizing she had agreed with his words.

  "Good," he replied, his blue eyes appraising her figure. "Damn, you're beautiful. Now, like I said, strip. But do it slowly. I like to be teased.”

  Erica couldn't believe herself as she started to sway to unheard music, working her hands down the sides of her sweater, running them over the swells of her breasts. She had always been the strong one i
n previous relationships, the one who made the decisions, and she never would have willingly stripped for a previous lover while he sat there lounging on a sofa like the king of the world. Then again, she wasn't the type to go up to a man's hotel room only hours after meeting him either. But there was something in Dwayne's eyes that made her want to obey his every word, to do whatever he told her to do. It was both scary and exhilarating at the same time.

  She felt her arousal growing as she took off her sweater and skirt, leaving herself in just the "sensible" bra and panties she had worn. Part of her wished she had chosen sexier garments instead, but by the look in Dwayne's eyes, she could tell he was still entertained. Her suspicion was confirmed as she watched the bulge in his suit pants grow bigger. She licked her lips at the thought of seeing what was contained within, and a fresh surge of wetness came over her.

  "That's enough," Dwayne said, standing and coming towards her. "I want you to take my clothes off, but you cannot touch my cock until I'm totally naked."

  Erica thrilled as Dwayne stood as still as a statue, letting her remove his suit piece by piece, her lust for him growing as she removed piece by piece until he too was in just his underwear. She ran her fingers over the taut, firm muscles of his chest and arms, enjoying the feel of her soft skin against his. He was nicely tanned, clearly a resident of the islands, and his skin carried just a hint of the outdoors with it. It was so different from the gossamer soft skin of many of the models she worked with, who spent all the time they could protecting their 'assets.' She could have spent hours just exploring his chiseled torso, but the outline of his cock in his underpants drew her attention lower, and her hands reached for it. He took hold of her wrists carefully in his strong hands, stopping her movement.

  "Ask for permission,” he said softly, the command still evident in his voice.