How can I be turned on knowing how absolutely and completely out of my league he is?

My stomach flops like a whole mess of spring peeper frogs have been unleashed. I wasn’t even this nervous when I stepped onstage for the first time on Country Dreams. Maybe this is what a minor league rookie feels like the first time he sets foot on the field of the big leagues.

I glance down at where he has a grip on my hand, and can’t help but notice the bulge in the front of his suit pants.

Oh Lordy. What am I getting myself into? He’s probably had his fair share of supermodels, and heck, any woman he’s ever wanted. And now he’s got me. Old insecurities sneak out of the shadows. I’m not good enough for this man, and I know it.

We step into the elevator, and my heart is hammering against my chest so loudly that I wonder if he can hear it. I forget that I’m still staring at his package when his hand once again lifts my chin.

“See something you like?”

My cheeks heat with a furious blush, and I raise my gaze to his amused one.

Oh my God. He caught me ogling his package. Fail, Holly! Fail.

“Uh . . .”

“Don’t worry. I don’t mind.”

With his words, his thumb strokes along my cheekbone. It’s such a familiar touch, and brings back the urge to just lean into him and let him take over.

Who am I kidding? Like I was ever in control of this encounter.

“What’s your name, sweetheart?”

I grit my teeth at the throwaway endearment. I hate being called “hon” or “sweetheart”—my gran’s favorite endearments—by someone I don’t know. It seems so fake, and once again reminds me of what I’ve lost.

“No names,” I say quickly.

His dark eyebrows shoot up nearly to his hairline. “Really? You don’t want to know mine?”

It’s not really fair of me, because I already know his, but I answer anyway. “None. I don’t need to know your name.”

He studies me for a few beats before replying with only a brief nod.

As soon as the doors open on my floor, he grabs me by the hand and pulls me out of the elevator, and I think I’ve reached the point of the evening where shit is getting real.

Equal amounts of apprehension and anticipation rush through me when he growls, “Which room?”

Oh God. What am I doing? Oh, wait, that’s right. I’m about to have a one-night stand with a billionaire. Get in the game, Holly. You can do this.

“Um, 1919.”

“Key?”

I slip my hand into the back pocket of my jean skirt and pull it out. Lifting it from my fingers, he pulls me down the hall in the direction of the room.

At least I don’t need to worry about having to take the lead, because I have a feeling Creighton Karas is going to be just as demanding and dominant in the bedroom as he’s rumored to be in the boardroom.

Gulp.

I need to take this slow. I need to take my time with her. She’s the type of woman to be savored and appreciated, but I want to taste her innocence on my lips too badly to even try.

I have her ass filling my hands and her back up against the wall before the door clicks shut behind us and the bottle of whiskey thuds to the floor. I take her mouth, sliding my tongue between her bright red lips. Fuck. So damn sweet, just like I knew she would be.

Her quiet moan goes straight to my balls. I rock into her, my cock pressing against her pussy. She whimpers and bucks against me, her instincts coming on strong, despite her innocence. I reach down and wrap one leg around me, and she catches on quickly, repeating the movement with her other leg. Her skirt bunches up around her waist, and the heels of her boots dig into my ass. My need to fucking devour this woman jacks up higher as her nails dig into my shoulders to steady herself.

Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’m not letting you go anywhere.

I bury one hand in her hair, tilting her head back to meet my gaze. “When I let you down from here, you’re going to strip off everything but your boots and your panties, and get on your hands and knees on the bed.”

Her dark eyes widen, clearly telegraphing her shock at my words.

Oh, this is going to be fun.

I begin to lower her to the ground, but her legs tighten around my waist.

I tighten my grip in her hair. “Do you understand me?”

She nods.

“Words. Yes or no?”

“Yes,” she whispers.

The smile that spreads across my face feels predatory, even to me. “You’re going to be a naughty fucking girl for me, aren’t you?”

Her mouth opens to respond, but instead of speaking, she closes it and swallows—like she’ll soon be swallowing my cock. She’s going to be perfect.

“Do you want to know what I do to naughty girls?”

She nods.

“Anything I want.”

Her pupils dilate, and I know I’ve got her exactly where I want her. My lips lower to hers and devour her again. The taste of whiskey reminds me that I want to lick it off her body, and drink it from her sweet pussy.

Fuck. What is it about this woman that makes me lose every shred of self-control?

I don’t care enough to answer the question because she’s wrapped her hand around my neck, pulling me closer. Her quick little tongue tangles with mine, and the taste of her . . . Jesus. It steals away logic and common sense.

I yank myself back from the edge, and away from her lips, and slowly lower her to the ground.

“What—?” Her half protest is weak, and she presses a palm against my chest for balance.

“Now,” I say, and wait for her to react.

“What?” she asks again, this time with more fortitude.

“I told you where I wanted you. And I want it now.”

She blinks, as if trying to throw off the haze of desire.

I don’t think so. I drop my hands to her shoulders and turn her to face the bed.

“Strip. Leave the panties and the boots. I want your ass in the air.”

I release her, and she stumbles forward a step. I lock down the urge to steady her, because if I touch her again, I’m going to be tearing every thread she’s wearing off her.

To her credit, she steadies herself—and quickly. I wonder how rapidly she’s going to comply with my orders, but I don’t have to wonder long. She reaches for the hem of her shirt and hesitates, glancing back over her shoulder.

Keep going, I think, waiting to see how well she’ll comply with my orders—spoken and unspoken.