And then his mouth was on hers. At first just as careful and soft as his hand on her cheek.
But then everything shifted in an instant.
The line she’d been walking went from firmly between them, to so far behind her she might never find it again.
Because where he was gentle and sweet, Bess suddenly felt anything but.
He’d saved her life.
She could have freaking died a minute ago, and would have, if not for the man holding her like she meant something.
Which was impossible. They didn’t even know each other.
And maybe that made her like him more. The fact that even without knowing her, he still considered her valuable. It’s what told her this was the right thing to do. That tonight was going to tell her everything she needed to know. About her relationship with Chris. About herself.
Maybe already had.
Bess pushed closer to the man giving her more than she ever could have expected, gripping his shirt, his hair, holding on like he might disappear any second. He tasted like promise and need. The richness of the dark beer he barely touched lingered on his tongue, tempting her with the desire to taste more of him.
Bess broke the kiss but not her hold on him. “Where are you staying?”
His breathing was heavy, the sound of his ragged breaths filling the air between them. “Close.”
Thank God.
The feelings he stoked in her were like a drug, setting fires that had never burned before, lighting parts of her she didn’t know existed.
And Bess wanted more. Now.
Whitt tucked her under one arm and pulled her close, shielding her from the cooling night air as he led her down the sidewalk toward a small inn set back off the street. It’d been there as long as she could remember and a few years ago someone from out of town bought it and renovated the whole place, turning an old motor lodge into an expensive hotel with a Tuscan feel.
His room was at the back of the property, tucked away and out of sight thanks to a corner turning it from view. Whitt swiped his key card and opened the door, pulling her into the dark room.
“Are you thirsty? Do you need anyth—”
Bess’s lips on his cut off the rest of the question. She wasn’t thirsty. She didn’t want anything to eat.
All she wanted was more of this. Him. Them together.
His arms were around her, pulling her close and tight as they fell to the stupidly soft mattress of the bed dominating the room. Whitt caught his weight as they went down. He was still being careful, still treating her like she was more than a one-night woman.
Which made her want to feel like tonight was more than a one-night thing.
“This can’t be more than this.” She said it for herself. A reminder. Tonight was only about proving there was more out there.
Better.
Men who could give her what she hadn’t had.
Whitt had already done that. Technically she could go home now with the answers she sought.
But.
She wouldn’t.
Because she wanted more from him. Whatever he was willing to give.
“Where in the hell did you come from?” His words were barely discernible. Muffled and distorted by the slide of his lips over her skin.
Bess pretended not to hear them, because tonight was coming dangerously close to becoming complicated. Instead she only let herself think about the feel of his body on hers. The skim of his hands. The heat of his mouth against her neck.
But Whitt wouldn’t stop talking. Saying things no man had ever said to her. Not even the one who had her for years.
The man who claimed to love her.
“God you’re fucking beautiful.” He pushed up to his knees, peeling her sweater over her head as he went, almost black eyes taking in every inch of her. “So fucking perfect.”
The urge to argue bubbled up.
To tell him she was far from perfect. It had been pointed out to her many, many times.
Also by the man who claimed to love her.
But if Whitt wanted to think Carly Smith was perfect, then she was going to let him. “Thank you.”
His gaze rested on hers, a tiny hollow place she was sure he didn’t realize she saw, lingering raw and hungry in his eyes.
Maybe she could fill that for him. Give him something tonight too.
His own bit of clarity to keep close.
She just had to be brave enough to do it.
4
“IT’S THE TRUTH. You are beautiful.”
He didn’t offer the truth often, but damned if he didn’t want to give this woman all of it.
And get hers in return.
Her full lips curved into a soft smile that said she didn’t believe him. Not even a little.
He would have to find another way to prove it to her, because if there was nothing else he accomplished tonight, he wanted her to know she was beautiful. Fucking perfect.
Wade eased down over her, giving her more of his weight. “I saw you the minute you walked in tonight. Couldn’t look away from you.”
Her skin barely flushed in the dim light filtering through the open blinds on the window. “Should I be worried you’re a stalker?”
The comment was a little too close to the truth. It pushed him up from the bed, trying to put some distance between them. He backed to the window and twisted the slats closed, keeping his eyes on her the whole time. “I promise not to stalk you.”
“Thank you.” The room was too dark to be sure, but she didn’t sound completely grateful for the assurance.
Or maybe he was hoping that was the case. Either way, he would never be able to see this woman again. No matter how much he might want to.
“Can I turn the light on?”
She hesitated. Just for a second. Long enough he knew she wanted to say no.
But she didn’t.
“You can.”
Fuck. If there was anything he would ever admire in another person it was bravery, and that’s what she just gave him. It might sound stupid, but he’d had enough women to know her letting him see everything was a big deal.
Wade walked to the nightstand and clicked on the small lamp. “Okay?”
When he looked at her his lungs nearly stopped working.
Her hazel eyes were open wide but held no fear.
None.
Only unmet need.
He straightened, unable to look away as her gaze stayed on him, unabashedly focused.
He would never ask anything of a woman he wasn’t willing to give. If he wanted to see her then she sure as hell should get to see all of him.
Wade reached behind his head to grab the back of his shirt, tugging the fabric up and over before tossing it onto the chair. Forcing himself not to focus on the packed bag sitting beside it.
Her eyes stayed on him as his pants followed, going to one side with his shoes and socks.
He stood for a minute, watching her, taking in every breath, every flutter of her lashes as her eyes roamed his body. The flush of her cheeks spread rapidly, covering more of the skin he ached to taste. When he couldn’t hold back any longer, his briefs went to the floor.
“Oh.” Her eyes widened. “I wasn’t expecting you to—”
“To what, Sweetheart?” The endearment slipped free of its own volition, and Wade let it go. He couldn’t call her Carly anymore.
It wasn’t her name.
That’s the only reason. The only one he could admit to.
He started to crawl onto the bed, the need to touch her making him edgy, desperate in a way he’d never been.
“To get completely...” She licked her lips. “Naked.” When he froze her eyes snapped to his. “Already.”
“You want me to put them back on?”
“No.” The word was short and pitchy. She shook her head. “No.” This time it was stronger. Sure.
Thank God.
“I guess I should—” She started to reach behind her back.
“No.” Wade
started moving again. He stretched over her, his body hovering just above hers. “I get to undress you.”
One of her brows lifted. “Get to?”
“Saving your life doesn’t earn me some sort of privileges?” He didn’t wait for her answer before resting one hand on the swell of her hip, palming the soft flesh hiding beneath her jeans. She would only be his for a few hours, and he intended to make the most of them.
“You consider undressing me a privilege?” She tried to sound teasing, but didn’t manage to fully hide the disbelief in her tone.
“I consider breathing your air a privilege.”
Her next breath came on a soft gasp. One he didn’t plan to give her time to recover from. That sound was only the beginning of what he wanted to hear coming from her tonight, and he would get them all.
All but one.
Wade buried his face between her breasts and breathed deep. “God you smell good.”
He didn’t talk during sex. Not a fucking word. Maybe a grunt. Nothing more.
But he couldn’t keep his mouth shut with this woman. He wanted her to remember tonight like he would. Wanted her to know this was more than just a random fuck.
His mouth was on her skin, tasting the swell of flesh straining against the soft lace of her pale pink bra. It was exactly what a woman like her should wear. Soft and feminine. Sweet and delicate.
And he wanted it off her. Wanted it all off her. He wanted to feel all of her against all of him.
The hooks at the back of her bra tangled in the loops of the lace as he tried to work them loose, bringing on a level of frustration that felt foreign and confusing. After a few fumbled attempts to free the hooks he gave up, instead snagging both straps and pulling the garment to her waist, eliciting another gasp from the woman turning his whole life upside down in a matter of hours.
He pulled one peach-tipped nipple into his mouth to stifle the almost feral rumble fighting through his chest. It immediately hardened under his tongue, pebbling tight between his teeth, dragging free the growl he’d worked to subdue.
Something about her did that to him. Drove him toward an edge he never planned to get close to, let alone peek over.
But she made him want to. Just to see what might be waiting for him if he lived a life that would let him jump.
But he didn’t.
Her hands were tangled in his hair as she arched against him, the soft sounds she made not nearly enough to satisfy the part of him she’d roused.
He wanted more.
Wade planned to take his time. Savor every second he had her. Work her up and bring her back down over and over until she couldn’t take anymore.
And then he would give her more.
But that dream was crumbling with every sweet gasp jumping through her full lips. Every tug of her fingers against his scalp.
He wanted her more than he’d wanted almost anything in his life. Wanted to know what it felt like to make her his, even if it could only be for one night.
The button of her jeans proved a much simpler closure to conquer than the hooks of her bra, and in seconds they were on the ground next to his. Wade leaned back, taking just a second to appreciate the view in front of him.
She was all woman. Full breasts. Soft curves. He slid one hand over the smooth skin of her belly, leaning down to let his lips follow as he forced himself to focus.
To slow down.
He could do this. Be the man she deserved. Show her the best he had to offer. Maybe bury a part of him deep enough in her memory she would remember him long after he had to walk away.
Had to leave her behind, never knowing what could be.
Only what could not.
Wade nipped at the silky skin of her inner thigh as his hands worked off the pair of barely-there panties that were the last thing keeping her from him. As soon as they were gone his mouth was on her, and the sounds she was giving him changed in an instant.
Gone were the soft sighs and sweet gasps, replaced by ragged pleas as she begged him not to stop.
And said another man’s name.
A name he gave her.
He forced himself not to listen, not to hear the lie he made her tell. Instead Wade focused on the only honesty he could give her. Show her.
The pleasure he could provide.
Her hands forked into his hair and held tight, as if she thought he might move away before she’d had enough.
“Relax, Sweetheart. I’ll take care of you. I promise.”
Her grip eased, the small display of trust digging under his skin. Making him even more positive that in a different world this night could have led to more.
That she could have been more.
“You taste so fucking good.” He lapped at her clit, settling into a steady rhythm until she rocked against him, the soft skin of her thighs brushing his cheeks as they pushed against his neck. When her whole body went tight he sucked, pulling the hardened nub between his lips.
She came apart almost immediately, her sharp cry piercing deep into him. Cutting with the sweetest sort of blade.
And it only made him want to bleed more.
He kissed his way up her boneless body, careful not to leave any marks on her fair skin. It was a rule he lived by.
Never leave a trace.
He’d never wanted to. Especially with women. His past held a long list of nights similar to this one.
Similar but not the same. Not even close.
None of those women made him want to stay. Made him want to risk one more night.
Not like this woman did.
Her hazel eyes were open and focused when he found them. “What’s wrong, Sweetheart?”
She barely shook her head, the fingers of one hand tracing a line along his jaw. She pulled in a breath, the parting of her lips leaving him hanging, waiting for the words that would come out.
But none came. Instead she pulled him close, her arms reeling him in as easily as that first, tentative smile. When he thought she might be just another woman. He couldn’t have been more wrong.
Her mouth was so sweet, her lips so soft, her body so welcoming. There was no way this was, or would ever be, just another woman. Not to him.
Shouldn’t be to any man with half a brain cell in his head.
Wade leaned up, pulling back just enough so he could look into her eyes. “Whoever he is, he’s not right for you.”
Clarity. It’s what she said she wanted from tonight. He was happy to give it to her. It had nothing to do with the fact that thinking of another man being in this same spot heated a place deep in his chest. A spot Wade didn’t think existed.
He just wanted to help her.
She gave him another barely-there nod. “I know.”
The two words brought him an unnerving amount of relief. He could never have this woman. Not in any way that mattered. She might not be with the man she was here to forget, but there would be more.
And none of them could be him.
“You deserve someone who appreciates you.”
Her chin barely lifted. “How do you know he didn’t appreciate me?”
“Sweetheart, you wouldn’t be here with me if he did.” Wade ran his nose alongside hers. “He wouldn’t have let you out of the house.”
She scoffed. “What does that mean?”
He chuckled at her offense.
“It means that if he appreciated you, he’d know there would be a man like me waiting for you.”
5
WHAT KIND OF man are you?
The question sat on the tip of her tongue, daring Bess to let it out. Luckily Whitt saved her from herself.
He stroked along her cheeks with the fingers of both hands. “A man who appreciated you would realize just how lucky he was to have you, and he’d show you every fucking second of the day.”
It could be so easy to believe what he was saying. To let herself think there would be more to this night.
But the bag in the corner said that would be a silly thing to consider
. The room was bare. No phone chargers on the nightstand. No clothes draped over the back of the chair.
Everything was packed away. Ready for him to leave.
Bess swallowed down the emotion his words threatened to bring. Shoving them deep inside, steeling herself to the reality of this night.
This single night.
“But you don’t really know me.” The reminder sat cold between them, pushing her farther from the scarily real closeness she already felt with him. “I could be hateful.”
“I would hope so.” Whitt’s eyes barely gleamed in the soft lamp light, like the twinkling of a single star in the night sky. “I would hope you’d be fucking hell on wheels sometimes.” He leaned down, lips grazing over her jaw, the scruff of his shadowed skin scraping with the most delicious roughness. “I bet you’re also stubborn and demanding.”
“Not always.”
He chuckled against her skin, sending a shiver of heat down her spine. “But you’re always fair and honest, aren’t you?”
Fair, yes.
Honest.
Not tonight.
“Is anyone always honest?”
Whitt stilled. “No. I would guess not.” It was a few heartbeats before he said anything else. “And you’re smart. You pay attention to things that most people miss.”
It was a little unnerving to have him see so much. “What about you?” Bess pressed her palms against the skin of his chest, moving the tips of her fingers through the sparse patch of dark hair covering his sternum.
“That’s for you to decide, Sweetheart.” His mouth was against her ear, teeth nipping at the lobe and the bit of skin just under it. “What do you think I am?”
“Well.” She closed her eyes as his lips dipped lower, the hot press against her neck threatening to distract her. “You are very good at things.”
“Things? What kind of things?”
She could swear it sounded like he was smiling. “These kind of things.”
“Hmm. You mean bedroom things.”
“That’s all I’ve really had the chance to see you do.”
“I saved your life.”
That was right. Somehow it had become less impressive than what he was currently accomplishing. “Thank you for that.”
Collateral Damage Page 3
