by Amy Lamont
He turned and scanned the room. His eyes paused on each of the men I’d looked at in my search for Paige. Shit.
“Looking to see if there’s a better prospect here perhaps?” His voice dripped ice and he turned and pinned me with his gaze once again, only this time there was nothing there but cold. “Wondering if you missed out by letting your friend get to the rock star first?”
My mouth dropped open and my head twisted back to where Paige sat, looking up flirtatiously from beneath her lashes at the man sitting close to her.
I turned back to my companion. “He’s a rock star? Who is he?”
His eyes narrowed. “Why do you want to know?”
“Um, he’s with my best friend. And rock stars are not exactly known for their strong moral fortitude. I need to know if I should wade in and try to save her from herself and whatever he has planned.” Not like it would be the first time.
“Your friend looks like a big girl who can take care of herself.”
“Yeah, well, looks can be deceiving.” My gaze dipped back down to my own outfit. Suddenly I felt like a high-priced call girl, all dressed up and trolling a bar for a man to hook up with. Despite the appeal of the man sitting next to me, I once again had a strange longing for pink flannel.
“Hey.” He reached over and used a finger under my chin to pull my eyes back up to meet his. “I’m sure she’s fine.”
I glanced over my shoulder. Paige and the rock star leaned close together, talking. He was right. Nothing too sinister there.
I turned back to him and butterfly wings brushed my stomach as I saw the hint of warmth back. Can you say mental whiplash?
“So are you going to tell me more about flannel pajamas and Chinese food?” he asked.
I shook my head, more to clear the mental cobwebs than in answer to his question, but yeah. No way was I going to share my usual evening routine. Time to change the subject. “Are you going to tell me your name?”
He sat back just a bit, the move so subtle, if I wasn’t hyper-focused on him, I might have missed it. Was he surprised by my question?
“You don’t know my name?”
I tipped my head to the side and pulled my brows together. “Should I?”
He gave me a hard look before answering. “My name’s Nate.”
The words came from him slowly, as if he was reluctant to share. Or maybe he gave me a fake name. Not unheard of. A debate waged in my mind in that moment over whether I should give him my real name or my pen name. Being Brandi had served me fairly well up until now. Maybe I’d continue to hide behind her.
But when I locked eyes with him, he regarded me so intently, almost as if he was searching for something. I couldn’t bring myself to give him a fake name. Maybe I could gloss over it unless he pushed me. Didn’t “sex with a stranger” imply names weren’t all that important?
“Nate, huh? Is that short for Nathan?”
An odd emotion once again raced across his face, so quick it was gone before I could even begin to guess what it was.
“It’s short for Nathaniel.”
His strong, quietly spoken words made me shiver. I peered at him from under my lashes and shivered again at being the singular focus of this man’s intense scrutiny. I reached for my drink in an effort to give myself a little time to get my reactions to him under control.
I took a pull of the tequila and ginger ale through two red cocktail straws. The icy liquid hit my tongue and I relished the tangy taste along with the chill it carried down my throat and into my belly. If only I could get away with rubbing the chilled glass over my hot cheeks.
When I turned my attention back to him, I could see amusement crinkling the corner of his eyes. I guess I wasn’t playing things too cool. The man obviously knew the effect he had on me. I rolled my eyes and had to grin at my own dorkiness. What else could I do?
“I’m Emma.” I figured at this point there was no hiding behind Brandi. I might be able to write good sex, but in person, nobody was going to confuse me with a sex goddess. Might as well go with the straightforward approach.
“Nice to meet you, Emma.” The way he said my name made the butterflies in my stomach take up flight and start a whole new migration pattern.
I swallowed. Hard.
I searched my mind for something to say. In an instant I rejected the weather, politics, current events and sixteen other topics. This was so much easier in college when you could ask about majors and career plans and whether or not someone lived in a dorm or off campus. What the heck was I supposed to ask someone in real life? Nate looked young but powerful. Probably around twenty-six or twenty-seven. But despite his age he looked like he’d long since put away chatter about campus life.
The silence grew and became almost uncomfortable. For me anyway. He seemed perfectly at ease and genuinely amused at my discomfort. I pressed my lips together and glanced around the room once more, desperate for a topic of conversation.
Taking in the winter wonderland that surrounded us, I almost blew out a sigh of relief. How could I forget we were in such amazing surroundings? I turned my eyes back to Nate.
“Are you staying at the hotel?” I asked.
His lips twitched. “No. I had a meeting here earlier and decided to stop for a drink before I head home.”
“Me too. Not about the meeting,” I rushed to explain, “but stopping in for a drink.”
“So you do come here often?” he teased.
I laughed and shook my head. “No. I do try to stop in every year around Christmas to see the magic.” I cast a wistful look around the room, the beauty of the scene causing a little pang of homesickness in my heart. “It’s sort of a tradition for me.”
His gaze followed mine before he gave a casual shrug, apparently dismissing the whimsical décor. “Just one more thing bringing hordes of tourists into the city this time of year.”
I blinked at his cynicism. How could anyone sit here surrounded by the winter magic and not be enchanted? Not to mention all the city had to offer around the holidays. Granted, the tree in Rockefeller Center and the holiday-themed store windows could make walking down some streets a little hairy this time of year. But if you lived in the city, it was easy enough to figure out times to take in the sights and avoid the crowds.
I sucked my bottom lip between my teeth. I didn’t want to admit to this man that the idea of the city at Christmas was one of the deciding factors when I chose to go to college here. It didn’t hurt that my closest friends made the same decision. But I’d always loved the wonder of the city when every inch of it was decorated and a Santa waited around every corner.
“I guess I can understand not liking the crowds, but this,” I let my eyes roam the room again, enjoying the sense of wonder seeping into me again, “it’s pure magic.”
He glanced around the room and shrugged. “It’s good business for the hotel.” He turned to the bar and took a long sip of his drink.
My eyes grew wide. His bah humbug attitude almost made my heart hurt. I wanted to jump in and explain about the magic of Christmas. How celebrating this season the way I celebrated with my parents, kept them with me always.
But I bit my lip and kept my eyes trained on his profile, studying his carefully controlled expression. He didn’t give much away, but something about his posture, his too-blank features, made me question his cynicism. The grief-stricken fourteen-year-old girl that lived inside me, the one who still pined for the parents taken from her too soon, recognized something in the man sitting beside me. I couldn’t help but feel his careful control hid something, hid the same kind of sorrow I knew all too well.
I’d put up walls around me after my parents died. I never let myself get too excited over anything. I stopped doing anything that reminded me of my parents. And I’d eaten my weight in chocolate chip cookies, adding an extra twenty pounds to my frame, something that offered another kind of protection.
In my case, I had good friends not willing to accept my boundaries. They busted through unt
il my misery became more of a dull ache, and they helped me realize I didn’t have to let go of my parents. I could keep them with me by continuing our family traditions. Like coming back to this hotel, the place they first met, every year.
Nate looked like he could use someone to blow through his boundaries. And in that moment, I wished with all my heart that someone could be me.
I gave an internal eye roll at my own crazy thoughts. I knew the man for all of twenty minutes, and I was looking to slay his demons for him. But as crazy as the thoughts were, as I stared at him, I couldn’t fight the urge to try, if only just a little.
I did exactly what I wanted to do when I first spotted him in the lobby. I reached out and traced the back of my hand along his jawline, enjoying the slight scrape of the dark five o’clock shadow there against my skin.
He stiffened and turned cold amber eyes on me. I snatched my hand back like a child touching a too hot stove, and then folded it into my other hand and shoved both of them into my lap.
I stared up at him, not sure what to expect. His gaze probed mine as the seconds ticked by.
“Sorry,” I finally murmured, embarrassed at my lack of control.
His eyes warmed and corners of his lips tilted up. Great. At least I continued to amuse him.
“You have nothing to be sorry for,” he said.
Maybe I read him all wrong, let my imagination get carried away and cast him as some kind of tragic hero. Maybe he just found all the Christmas stuff tiresome. Lots of people didn’t like the holidays for one reason or another. Maybe I was just grasping for a connection that wasn’t really there.
This time I sighed out loud and then grabbed my drink off the bar, using it to hide my discomfort. I usually felt out of place and a bit awkward in these types of social situations. But in this case, I was so out of my depth, I could almost feel the icy water closing over my head. Maybe I should just call it a night.
As I had the thought, the amusement dropped from Nate’s face. The shutters came down over his eyes again and there wasn’t even the hint of a smile around his mouth.
“Something wrong?” he asked.
I put my drink down on the bar with a loud plunk. There probably wasn’t enough alcohol here to lubricate me to the point of losing my inhibitions, especially with a man like Nate. What on earth was I thinking with this scheme?
I reached for my small clutch. “You know, maybe I should just...”
Before I could form an excuse or an explanation, Nate reached out and placed a hand on my knee. “Hey, what just happened here?”
I looked at him and wanted to cringe. That stripped bare, itchy-under-the-skin feeling I had when I thought about other people reading my articles assailed me. I shifted uncomfortably on my stool and my skin where he touched me burned to the point it was almost painful.
I raised wide eyes from the hand on my knee to meet his gaze. “I don’t think I’m very good at this,” I whispered.
His gaze sharpened and his voice was like the edge of a razor. “Good at what?”
I shrunk into myself a little at his coldness. But since I started this, I might as well go all in with completely mortifying myself. I flicked a hand back and forth, gesturing between us. “This. Flirting. Trying to pick up a stranger in a bar. I don’t do things like this.” I dropped my voice to a whisper on the last few words and my face turned down toward my lap.
“You don’t do things like this?”
The cold had leached from his voice, leaving it a little warmer and almost raw like a growl.
The sound made me lift my head and search his face before I told him, “I don’t do things like this. Ever.”
And it was the truth. The two semi-serious boyfriends I’d had were both guys I’d first been friends with. In both cases, the more-than-friends thing had slowly developed and then slowly fizzled out again. I wasn’t a virgin, but neither was I the type to have mad passionate sex with a stranger.
“I’m sorry,” I offered.
He smiled. A genuine smile with real warmth. “Why are you apologizing again?”
I shrugged. “I feel like I misrepresented myself here.”
He outright grinned this time. “By sitting down next to me at the bar and exchanging small talk?”
“We both know it’s more than that. The dress,” I waved my hand down to show off my barely there dress, “the cleavage, the long stares.” I shook my head. “It’s not that I’m not attracted to you. It’s because I am that I even took things this far. But really, I don’t want to waste any more of your time.”
I started to slide off my stool, holding tightly to my clutch. Before I got more than one foot down, he wrapped a hand around my upper arm to hold me in place.
“Wait,” he said.
My lips parted. “Wait?”
“Wait.” He gave my arm a gentle squeeze. “Just wait.”
I froze in my spot, held motionless by the look in his beautiful amber eyes. “Wait for what?”
“This.” He leaned down and brushed his lips against mine, once and then again, before pulling back only enough to leave a breath of space between our mouths. “You taste delicious.”
“It’s the ginger ale and tequila,” I whispered inanely.
He smiled and kissed me again, smiling against my mouth. “It’s all you.”
After that there was no chance at conversation. He slanted his lips against mine and kissed me hard and deep. His tongue sought entrance and my lips parted. Liquid pleasure meandered from where his mouth met mine and moved to every part of me, warming me everywhere.
I moaned and slid the rest of the way off the stool. My body melted into his. His hands closed on my hips. I could feel him clenching and unclenching them as he pulled me closer, stroking his tongue in and out of my mouth.
A throat clearing close to us made Nate lift his mouth from mine. But he didn’t let go of his grip on my hips. Didn’t allow me to pull away from him.
His head turned and I followed suit, twisting to see the bartender hiding a grin. “Can I get you two anything else?”
Shit. A quick glance around showed me we’d become the center of attention for several of the bar patrons. My cheeks heated and I dropped my forehead to Nate’s shoulder. I had forgotten everything during that brief kiss—where we were, who was watching. That I couldn’t let him strip me naked in the middle of a bar.
His hand moved absently, soothingly, over my back. I took a deep, shuddering breath before lifting my head. Nate looked down at me, his eyes searching my face. He used a hand under my chin and placed an almost chaste kiss on my lips.
“I’d like to get a room with you,” he whispered.
My heart stuttered and then picked up enough speed that I thought it might jump right out of my chest. His gaze held mine captive. My thoughts were so scattered I didn’t think I’d ever pick up enough of them to form a coherent sentence. My mouth opened once and then closed. All I could manage was a nod.
“Do you need to tell your friend?”
My friend? I blinked and then mechanically turned my head to scan the room. My eyes landed on Paige to find her grinning from ear to ear. Reality filtered back in. I shook my head, but Paige just nodded and gave Nate a quick once-over before sending me a thumbs-up.
I rolled my eyes and turned back to Nate to find him observing us with an amused smile.
“I think she’ll manage to find her way home by herself,” I said.
“Let’s get out of here.”
Chapter 4
I stared at him. I’m not sure how many seconds ticked by before I nodded and allowed him to tug me toward the door. I gave Paige a little finger wave as we sped past her table, my gaze skittering sideways to take in the guy sitting with her. He was even better looking close up.
I lifted an eyebrow at her, wanting to make sure she was really okay before I...I sucked in a breath and then fought to keep from choking on it as the idea of what this beautiful, powerful, sexy man was about to do to me flew threw my brain.
Paige caught onto my panic quickly and just shook her head. She tilted her head toward Nate and jerked her thumb toward the exit, encouraging me to continue on my quest for adventure.
Well, obviously, she was just fine.
I just wish I could say the same for myself.
As we hit the doorway, I dug my heels in, fighting to catch my breath. How had this moved in this direction so quickly? I needed to stop a second, needed to think, needed to....
Nate stopped and turned back to me. He used our joined hands to pull me closer. “What’s wrong?”
I shook my head. How could I explain this to him? I could feel the panic rising in me as I thought of telling him that I didn’t want to leave with him. Not because I didn’t want him or because my hormones weren’t screaming at me to jump his bones. But because the thought of what was to come—me getting naked in front him, us having sex…I just didn’t want him to be disappointed in me. And considering my lack of experience and the fact that my body didn’t come anywhere close to matching the absolute perfection of his, I couldn’t see how he could be anything but.
“Nothing. It’s just...is this going a little fast?”
He grinned a wicked grin. “Don’t worry about that, sweetheart. Once I get you upstairs, I intend to take things nice and slow.”
My mouth went dry and my nipples stood at attention. Holy fuck.
“But, I mean, well, I wasn’t thinking that kind of fast. I meant, fast as in, um, well, we just met and really...”
He quieted me with a kiss, his mouth moving hard and demanding over mine, and I lost the ability to think. My body melted into his as my eyes drifted closed.
When he pulled back, his voice came to me raspy and thick with need. “Tell me you have that with every man you meet.”
My eyes popped open wide. I shook my head. “No, never. Not with anyone.”
He stared down at me, his eyes penetrating, searching, digging deep into me. After a moment, he nodded and rubbed the pad of his thumb over my still tingling bottom lip. “If a kiss feels like that, don’t you want to see what it’ll feel like when we kiss with nothing between us? Or when the weight of my body pushes yours into the mattress? Or when I push inside you for the very first time?”
