Blazing Bedtime Stories, Volume IV

by Kimberly Raye

  “Who’s the friend?”

  “Robin Rivers.”

  “When do you need help with this problem?”

  “Tonight.”

  “Let’s see, it’s a quarter past nine right now.” He went silent for five frantic heartbeats. “Meet me at the Holiday Trails Motel out on Route 16 in an hour. Room 24.”

  She glanced over her shoulder at Rayne, who sipped his beer, a dark look on his face as if he knew what she was up to and didn’t like it one little bit.

  Hardly.

  He was clear across the room. The only thing he might know was that she wasn’t as immune to him as she pretended to be. Her nipples were rock-hard, pressing against the thin cotton of her tank, twin beacons that testified to her arousal. Her legs quivered and her panties felt damp. Her cheeks burned and the urge to duck her head into the ice machine to her left was nearly unbearable.

  Especially when he lifted his bottle in salute and blew her a quick kiss. There was no mistaking the warm sensual press of lips at the base of her spine and shock bolted through her. She whirled, but there was no one standing behind her.

  Her startled gaze shifted back to Rayne, who sat clear across the room. Eyeing her.

  “Make it a half hour,” she blurted before sliding the receiver into its cradle.

  She was imagining things. Out-of-this-world sensual things which meant she needed a man right this very second.

  She whipped off her apron, tossed it under the counter and reached for her purse. She ducked into the kitchen and gave Zeke the spiel about the internal fever and her urgent need for calamine, before slipping out the back door.

  And then she climbed into her car and headed for the Holiday Trails Motel.

  SHE’D SET UP A SEX DATE.

  Rayne wouldn’t have believed it if he hadn’t heard with his own ears. But then, he heard everything thanks to his heightened senses.

  The beep of the numbers as she’d dialed. The frantic in and out of her breath as she’d waited anxiously for an answer. The catch in her voice as she’d asked the voice on the other end for help with her problem.

  A sex date.

  Sonofabitch.

  Not that he had anything against a sex date as long as both parties were willing and took the proper precautions. But this was Lucy. His Lucy. He’d missed her for so long. Fantasized about her night after night. Relived every moment with her every friggin’ day since she’d broken his heart. And damned if he was going to sit by and just let another man have her.

  Particularly when he was the one who’d worked her up in the first place.

  The goal had been to talk her into his bed. He’d come here to do just that. To remind her of the past, of how good they’d been together, of how good they could be, and have her choose him willingly.

  Because she wanted him.

  She did.

  He’d felt the push-pull of lust inside her, seen the raw desire gleaming in her eyes, smelled the scent of warm, ripe, willing woman, and heard the excited staccato of her heart.

  And while he’d been more than willing to wait and bide his time, he wasn’t willing to sit around while she went after another man she’d never even met.

  If she wanted sex tonight, she was going to get it. But not with some stranger named Andre.

  Hell, no.

  She wanted Rayne. And he wanted her.

  And it was time to satisfy them both.

  7

  “WHAT THE HELL DO YOU WANT?” asked the man who hauled open the door of Room 24. He was average-looking with short brown hair and a decent physique. He wore a pair of black slacks and a white dress shirt, the top button undone, the tails untucked.

  “Maintenance,” Rayne replied as he stared into the man’s dark brown eyes and read all of his secrets.

  Andre Martin was a thirty-three-year-old entertainment manager from Austin. Three times divorced. No kids. He routinely traveled the back roads of Texas with whichever band he was currently promoting in the Texas music market. This week it was a local group called the Lonestar Bad Boys. He’d met Robin Rivers during his last tour with the Boys. She’d been doing the drummer at the time, and anyone else who came along. She’d been his dream come true—a woman more interested in having fun than forging any sort of personal attachment.

  After a trio of exes and a shitload of alimony, he’d been attracted to her immediately.

  He’d had some of the hottest moments of his life with Rockin’ Robin. She was a wildcat in the sack and he could only hope that the woman she’d recommended him to would be just as feisty.

  If not, he would be okay with that, too. He’d popped a few Viagra just five minutes ago and he figured he had enough enthusiasm for the both of them.

  Rayne’s muscles clenched and his pulse kicked up a notch. He had half a mind to grab the man by the throat and kick his ass sixty ways to Sunday. But that wouldn’t get him inside.

  And if he wanted his plan to work, he had to get into this room.

  He tamped down on his anger and added, “The hotel manager sent me to check a leak in the bathroom.”

  “Come back later.” Andre started to close the door.

  Rayne caught the doorjamb. While he couldn’t cross the threshold without an official invitation, the door itself was in the middle. Fair game. “It’ll just take a minute.”

  “Are you freakin’ kidding me? I’m about to bust a nut, buddy. I don’t have time for this crap.”

  “You better make time or the only thing busting in this room is going to be a pipe.” He glanced past the man into the cheesy motel room. “This place is bad enough dry. I doubt you’ll win any brownie points if your lady friend has to wade in water up to her kneecaps.”

  It was enough to make Andre think. He glanced at his watch. “Oh, all right. Come in, but make it fast.”

  Rayne followed the man into the small motel room.

  “The bathroom’s thataway.” Andre motioned to a narrow archway.

  “And your car’s that way.” Rayne indicated the open door. “Why don’t you get the hell out of here?”

  Andre frowned. “What the hell—” he started, but the words quickly stalled. His gaze widened and then it was as if a lightbulb flicked off. His expression went blank, his mouth slack.

  “You’re going to leave now,” Rayne told him, “and forget all about me. I was never here, and neither was anyone else. The lady stood you up. You waited for her, but she never showed. Now get your shoes and leave.”

  The man nodded, snatched up his discarded loafers and left the small room. Hinges creaked. The door slammed. A few seconds later, a car engine caught. Tires spewed gravel and Andre was gone.

  Rayne walked over to the dresser and fingered the tie the man had left behind. It was a red pin-striped number that smelled of expensive men’s cologne and a heady dose of lust.

  An idea struck and a grin tugged at the corner of Rayne’s mouth. He’d planned to close the blinds and kill the lights, but the tie would work even better.

  Hooking the piece of silk around his neck, he kicked off his boots, sank into a nearby chair and settled in to wait.

  LUCY EYED THE FADED 24 hanging on the front of the motel door and knocked for the fifth time before glancing at her watch.

  She was ten minutes late because she’d had to stop off for gas. The pay-at-the-pump card slot hadn’t worked so she’d had to go inside. There she’d gotten stuck talking to old man Quinby, who worked the register every evening because Medicare didn’t pay him enough to buy a pot to piss in (his exact words). She’d gotten an earful about Barney Colby’s new tractor and Melvin Doolittle’s hearing aid and Amos Culpepper’s hemorrhoids before she’d managed to escape back to her car.

  Maybe he’d given up on her and left.

  She turned and took a quick visual of the parking lot. Other than a small red truck that sat near the lobby, her Saturn was the only other car in the lot. Relief bubbled inside her.

  Wait a second. Relief? She wanted to do this.

 
; If she didn’t, she knew she would end up in bed with Rayne Montana faster than she could blink.

  Worse, she would end up in love with him.

  Again.

  She drew a deep breath, forced aside her reservations and knocked again. Maybe he was the one running late. He could have gone out for champagne or strawberries or something.

  Not that she needed champagne or strawberries or anything remotely romantic. This was sex. Pure and simple.

  Survival.

  She reached for the knob. The latch clicked and the door creaked open.

  “Hello?” she called out, but no one answered.

  She ignored the butterflies in her stomach, forced her feet to move, and walked into the small motel room. She’d barely made it three steps before she heard the deep voice.

  “What took you so long?”

  “Me? I’ve been knocking for ages—” She started to turn, but strong hands came up on either side of her and a hard, muscular chest pressed against her shoulder blades as he stepped up behind her.

  “Don’t,” he murmured as he pulled her back firmly against him.

  The door shut with a solid thud. Darkness closed in around them and she became acutely aware of the press of his arousal between her buttocks. A tiny thrill chased away her doubt, but then his arms came from behind and he lifted a red silk tie to her eyes. The doubts rushed back full force.

  She caught his hands. “W-what are you doing?”

  “Making things interesting,” he murmured, his voice deep and raw and oh so seductive. “The less we know about each other, the better.” His lips brushed the shell of her ear. “Isn’t that what you want, sugar?”

  It was exactly what she wanted. No strings. No complications. No connection.

  At the same time, she couldn’t escape the strange current that hummed in the air and sizzled across her nerve endings. A familiar feeling that filled her with a generous dose of déjà vu. As if she’d touched and been touched by him before.

  Right.

  They were strangers to one another.

  The only thing remotely familiar to this scene was the seedy motel room. While she’d never been in this particular one, she’d seen more than her share of look-alikes over the years. The outdated shag carpet. The paisley print bedspread. The quarter slot on the bedpost.

  That was what made it all seem as if she’d been there, done that. It certainly wasn’t the man standing behind her, filling up all of her breathing space.

  She dropped her hands and the material slithered over her eyes. Strong fingers grazed her cheeks as he secured the silk and fastened a knot at the nape of her neck. A quick tug confirmed that it was secure.

  Her stomach did a somersault and her hands trembled.

  Despite her extensive resumé when it came to men, she’d never been blindfolded before. Most of her past encounters—while plenty—had been fast and no frills, the men much too excited to climb into bed with the infamous Lucy Rivers to be the slightest bit adventurous. They’d always been more concerned with taking their own pleasure than giving any in return. Once they’d gotten their groove on, they’d walked away.

  It would be the same this time.

  The notion stirred a ripple of regret that she gladly ignored by shifting her attention to the man standing so close to her.

  With her vision gone, she had to focus on her other senses. Her ears tuned to the distinct sounds. The rustle of denim as he rounded her. The creak of a floorboard as he planted himself in front of her. The thunder of her own heart as she waited.

  He took her hands, pulling her forward a few steps and steering her around before he let go.

  “Lift your arms.” His deep voice caused awareness to sizzle across her nerve endings.

  She did as he commanded, her breath paused, her heart pounding.

  She waited to feel the press of a hand or the brush of fingers as he started to undress her, but there was nothing. It was as if the clothes peeled away all by themselves.

  Her tank top glided up and over her head. The button tugged and twisted at her waistband before sliding free. The zipper hissed and the shorts crept down her legs.

  When the denim pooled at her ankles, she stepped free wearing nothing but her cowboy boots. She bent to pull them off, but his voice stopped her.

  “Don’t. I want to see you. Just like that.”

  She straightened and simply stood there. The cool air chugging from a nearby window unit whispered across her bare arms, her shoulder blades, her breasts, the very tips of her throbbing nipples. The seconds ticked by and she couldn’t help but wonder what he was thinking.

  Not that it mattered.

  This wasn’t about what he thought of her. What he felt.

  It was all about what she felt. The heat. The desperation. The lust.

  That was what she told herself, but she hesitated anyway. While she’d agreed to this—she needed this—she couldn’t escape the feeling that something wasn’t right.

  She retreated, coming up hard against the edge of the bed.

  “Easy.” He caught her before she pitched backward. His strong hands steadied her, fingertips cool and soothing on her flushed skin.

  “Trust me—” her voice trembled as fiercely as her aroused body “—there’s nothing easy about this.” The words rushed out before she could stop them. She drew a deep breath and tried to calm her pounding heart. “I don’t mean to be so skittish. It’s just that I’ve been on the wagon for quite some time now when it comes to sex. I don’t usually do things like this anymore.”

  “Why not?”

  She wasn’t sure what prompted her to answer him rather than tell him to mind his own business. Maybe it was the blindfold. Maybe it was the fact that she didn’t know him and he didn’t know her and, therefore, wouldn’t be around to judge her later. Maybe it was the sincerity in his voice, as if he really, really wanted to know.

  Maybe all three.

  Either way, the truth slipped past her lips before she could stop it. “I want more than just a physical relationship with a man. I want to go out to dinner and cuddle up in front of the TV. I want something real. This—” she shook her head “—this is meaningless.”

  “This, darlin’,” he murmured after a long, silent moment, “is as real as it gets.” He slid an arm around her and touched the small of her back. As if to prove his words, he bent her backward and the wet heat of his mouth closed over one throbbing nipple. A wave of delicious pleasure swept through her.

  He suckled her with an expertise that made her sag against him. Wetness flooded the sensitive flesh between her legs and she felt a drop glide down the inside of her thigh.

  He drew on her harder, his jaw creating a powerful tugging that she felt clear to her core. An echoing throb started in her belly, more intense with every rasp of his tongue, every pull of his delicious mouth.

  But there was something else, as well.

  A sharp, prickling sensation against her skin that tickled and stirred and ahhhhhhhhhh….

  She slid her arms around his neck and held on tight. Heat flowered through her, pulsed along her nerve endings, and upped her body temperature until she felt as if she were about to go up in flames.

  A gasp parted her lips as he left one breast throbbing and worked his way to the other. He drew on her so fast and fierce that she had to cling to him to keep her legs from giving out.

  She felt the prickling again. Like something sharp scraping against her sensitive flesh. On either side of her nipple. The underside of her breast. The very tip. Goose bumps chased up and down her arms. Awareness skittered up her spine, along with a ripple of—uh, oh.

  A vision lit up the darkness and she saw herself standing behind the Iron Horseshoe with Rayne Montana. She felt his lips on hers, felt the prickling against her mouth, tasted the blood—

  Wait a second. Wait. Just. A. Friggin’. Second.

  First off, this wasn’t Rayne. This guy wasn’t even close. Sure, he had a great mouth and he knew how to use i
t, but it wasn’t the greatest. Her imagination was getting the best of her because of Rayne’s sudden appearance and her deprived hormones.

  She hadn’t even kissed him last night, and he sure as hell hadn’t bitten her. She’d bitten her own lip in her haste to get away from him.

  “You’re wet.” His raw words slid into her ears and drew her full attention. She felt his touch on the inside of her thigh as he caught a drop of her essence. The rough pad of his finger slid higher, gathering the moisture until he poised at her entrance.

  Her breath caught and she waited, hoping to feel him closer, deeper.

  He drew his hand away and regret wiggled through her. But then she heard his deep, throaty moan. A split second later, he was kissing her again.

  She tasted her own ripe sweetness on his lips and her insides clenched. Time pulled her back to the old barn that sat behind Rayne’s run-down house.

  She felt the soft hay beneath her bare feet. The rich aroma of leather and aroused male filled her nostrils. The sound of her own frantic breathing blended with the whisper of the wind and the buzz of crickets. Rayne stood in front of her, his arms around her, his mouth covering hers, coaxing her.

  And while she would never fall into bed with the man himself, there suddenly seemed nothing wrong with tumbling head over heels into a fantasy of him.

  Her reservations melted and Lucy did what she’d wanted to do so desperately last night—she slid her arms around his neck and kissed him for all she was worth.

  8

  SHE TASTED SO DAMNED GOOD.

  The thought echoed through his head as his tongue darted into his mouth and she kissed him for all she was worth. Deeply. Thoroughly. Until his body clenched and his gut twisted.

  He couldn’t help himself. He needed more of her. Now.

  He steered her down onto the bed. Leaning over her, he pushed her thighs as far apart as he could. He parted her with his thumbs and rasped her with his tongue. He licked her, plying her soft, swollen tissue, drawing the sensitive heart of her into his mouth and drinking in her ripe sweetness. She arched against him, her hips lifting off the bed, searching for more.