FIRST TIME

Valerie's Pov.

“Here, let me help you,” I say, gently taking the card from his hand.

He doesn’t protest, probably can't, as I loop his arm over my shoulder. Groaning at the added strain, even though he holds his weight pretty well, I lead him down the hall, the golden numbers on the doors blurring together until I find the matching one on the card.

His breaths are labored, and I can feel the tension in his body as he fights to stay conscious. I hope he does because leaning on me already made me so tired. He keeps muttering about needing to go, to leave, and it’s setting me on edge.

Sliding the card into the reader, I push the door open and guide him inside. The suite is massive, the kind of luxury I’d grown up beside but was so distant from. Crystal chandeliers, plush velvet furniture, and floor-to-ceiling windows, that capture the night screen like a painting.

“Here, sit down,” I say, lowering him onto the edge of the king-sized bed. He groans softly, his head lolling back as he tries to keep sitting upright.

“Maybe you should lie down,” I say, gently pushing at his wide shoulders.

He gently places a hand on mine stopping me, and I pull my hand away at the sensation of his bare skin against mine. Weird but I quickly brush it off as nothing.

“Water… I just need…” he mumbled, his words trailing off.

I move to the minibar, quickly grabbing a bottle of water and unscrewing the cap. I help him with his head, covered with soft black hair and guide him to take a drink.

“Thank you,” he says, his voice a little clearer now. Although the haze that clids his mind won't be so easily shaken off. He'll have to sleep it off.

“You’re welcome.” I hand him the bottle, my fingers brushing against his. There it is again, that sensation. “You didn’t look like you were going to make it to your room.”

He chuckles softly, the sound low and rich, if a little drowsy. “I didn't feel like it either. Thank you.”

I offer him a small smile, stepping back toward the door. “I should go. You need to rest.”

But before I can turn the handle, his voice stops me, gentle in its insistence. “Wait.”

He stands with some effort and approaches me, a lot stronger on his feet now. He’s probably a full six feet and then some but as he gets closer, I feel no fear.

What does he want?

He stands right in front of me, blue eyes searching mine and then leans down slowly. With a jolt I realize he wants to kiss me. And I . . . don't move away.

His lips brush against mine, tentative at first, like he’s testing my reaction. When he finds no opposition, his hands slide down my back, pulling me flush against him. My breath hitches as he keeps his hand grasping the curve of my waist. Every nerve in my body ignits, the heat between us growing with every passing second.

“Wait…” I whisper, but the word sounds so weak to even my own ears, almost nonexistent, that I wonder if I'd actually said it outloud. Do I actually want him to wait?

His lips find mine again, this time with more urgency. His movements begin to grow desperate, his body trembling slightly against me. Whatever drug coursing through his system may have slowed him down but it seems to heighten his need, and I find myself melting into his touch.

“Don’t go,” he murmurs, his lips trailing down to my neck. “Please.”

He says the word so softly, so pleadingly, so at odds with the way he's clutching me, flush against him. Do I want to go?

He dips his head into the crook of my neck and nibbles before biting down pulling a gasp out of me. Then he continues, going lower pushing my uniform out of the way.

If I want to stop this, now is the time. I should step back, say I have work waiting for me and walk out. I mean, I barely know him. We met like six minutes ago. I should go, it's the sensible—

Oh!

He nips on the peak of my breasts and I exhale shakily. The way he touches me, the way his lips explore my skin, makes my resolve crumble.

So focused on the strong sensations he’s dragging out of me, I don't notice he's moved us back to bed until my back touches the sheets.

He’s slow to undress himself and then me, stroking, kissing, nibbling as he does. I'm vibrating with pent up energy by the time both of us are named.

He claimed every part of me, thoroughly. His touch was both demanding and tender, as if he were both lost in the moment and determined to make it unforgettable.

I let myself go, let myself feel. It was bliss.

Afterwards, tangled in the sheets, our bodies pressed together, I can see the man's struggle to keep his eyes open but that was a battle he quickly lost.

I lay beside him for a few moments more, against his warmth before carefully extract myself from him.

I quickly get dressed and slip out of the room, my heart pounding in my chest. The hallway feels colder now, the weight of what had just happened pressing down on me.

No more private suits for me tonight. Grabbing the tray I abandoned earlier, I go back to the kitchens, hoping no one would question me. No one looks at me as I enter, because the kitchen is in a flurry and I silently slide in with some servers who are going to work the poker room.

It’s the right call, even if it's a littleuncomfortable. The clinking of glasses and hum of conversation drowned out the chaos in my head. My aching feet and the excitement of the games all around, keeps me thinking of the ache in more intimate parts of my body.

And more importantly, it keeps me from thinking about him.

Irrationally, I felt like people knew, like they were watching me, almost as if they could smell it on me. But of course they couldn't know that for the first time in my life I allowed a man to touch me. That I gave that stranger the one thing I had always held onto, my virginity.

And as I climbed into the car well past

midnight, I couldn't help feeling like there was something I was forgetting.