Mr. Forrester: An Alpha Billionaire Romance (2 page)

T
he hotel room
was small in Erica's opinion, but she hadn't gotten the room at the Grange for size. Instead, she chose it because it was conveniently located, and the furnishings were comfortable. The hotel had numerous restaurants and meeting rooms she could use for business, and best of all, the showers were famously relaxing. She glanced in the direction of the huge shower stall with leaded crystal walls a moment before deciding she was just too damned tired for the massaging flow of a hot shower. Kicking off her shoes, she collapsed on the pillow-top mattress, her eyes closing almost immediately.

However, sleep itself wouldn't come. She had found long ago she could drop into some sort of netherworld, where she was neither fully asleep nor fully awake. That's what happened this time. She couldn't move her arms or legs, but she could hear the afternoon London traffic outside, the ticking of the antique clock that was used for decoration, even the soft hum of the heaters blowing warm air through the vents near the wall. It was infuriating, because she knew that she was never really refreshed after one of these pseudo-naps. The best she could expect was to be a little less sleepy. Finally, she fought her way back to full wakefulness, glancing at the clock to see that, as usual, time had seemingly sped up, as it was now early evening. She knew she wasn't going to get any real sleep for a while, and decided to get some food instead.

Glancing at herself in the mirror, Erica realized she needed a shower. Her thick black hair, which normally hung in lush natural waves halfway down her back, looked greasy and ratty, the product of too much stress and not pinning it up before sleep. She'd spent the past two days just yanking it back into convenient pony tails, and it was pretty much fried at this point. Besides, her clothes looked terrible after her nap. She quickly stripped, appraising her reflection carefully once she was nude. Her C Cup breasts and slim waist gave her a curvaceous, and she smiled as she rubbed her belly.

Too bad the only person who sees you naked is you
, she muttered to herself, before heading into the shower and turning the water up as warm as she could stand.

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 had 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."