“Yeah? You like that, don’t you?” he said—loudly—motioning her toward the bed.
He sat down, hard, onto the mattress, bouncing the box springs enough to creak.
She jumped on next to him and they alternated bounces, making sounds that she prayed she never really made during sex. Although if sex with Quinn was even half as good as it seemed like it might be, she didn’t care what she sounded like or who would hear her.
“Are you ready for me, baby? Are you ready for this? Do you want this?”
“Oh, yes, Quinn. Give it to me. Let me see that big—” She stopped and stared at him. And looked at his crotch—a totally involuntary action. From what she could tell, he wasn’t completely unaffected by their little game.
And he’d seen her look. Well, the hell with it. What happened in Vegas…
“Give me that big porn star cock, you stud,” she yelled. “Oh my God, yes. Oh, I need lube! You’re bigger than my vibrator.”
Quinn cracked up, rolling over on the mattress, covering his face with the pillow to stifle his laughter.
But then he was back in the game. He turned and grabbed the headboard and began slamming it into the wall at a rate of about a million thrusts per second.
Watching the muscles of his arm work, she couldn’t help but imagine the muscles of his ass and thighs straining to pump into her and figured she probably wouldn’t need lube if the real thing was coming at her even a quarter that hard and fast. Just the idea was making her feel a little slippery.
But as impressive as Quinn was, Kellie wasn’t going to let him be the master of her domain just yet. She stood on the bed and began to bounce, letting out vigorous “unh, unh, unhhhhhs.”
Quinn turned to watch her and said, “Faster, baby, faster.” Then he leaned back against the headboard with his arms crossed behind his head, legs stretched out on his side of the bed.
So she jumped faster. And higher. And realized that she had on a skirt, and was jumping up and down right above a hot guy that she barely knew, and he was—yes, he was looking up her skirt. When he wasn’t watching her boobs bounce.
And from the looks of things below his belt, he was enjoying the show.
Recognition caused her to lose her footing. One foot slipped off the bed, and with a cry she flew forward—toward Quinn’s reclining self, landing on him—and coming to rest with her face inches from his.
“Hi,” he said, after he caught his breath.
“Uh, hi.”
There was silence next door.
“Think we impressed your friends with our virility?”
“Oh, yeah.” Kellie was impressed with the hot, hard body beneath hers. Her legs were intertwined with his and his leg pressed against the hem of her skirt. His thigh wasn’t quite all the way between hers, but with a wiggle or two—
She froze. The air-conditioning wafted over her slightly sweaty skin, cooling everything that wasn’t touching Quinn. Her hands rested on his solid shoulders, and he had one palm on her waist and one on the back of her thigh, where her knee was bent outward in that almost-straddle position.
She was in a hotel room staring into the mesmerizing eyes of a stranger in a very compromising position. If he wasn’t honorable…or if she wasn’t— And she was beginning to doubt her good-girl status.
He let her go just as she squirmed off him and to her side.
Could you say awkward?
“So. In your romance-land fake boyfriend world, do I roll over and go to sleep now that my caveman requirements have been met or do I pretend to want to cuddle, or what?”
“As long as you don’t roll out of bed, pull up your drawers, and promise to call me later with a wink, I think you’re golden,” Kellie told him, thinking back to the last guy she’d slept with. They’d dated for a month, finally made it to bed, and then…
“Ouch.” Quinn frowned. “I hope I’ve never…” He shook his head. “Nah. I hardly ever promise to call. Or wink.”
Kellie laughed. Wow. This little impromptu thing had turned into a lot of fun. She wished it didn’t have to end so soon. He was already going to be firmly embedded in her “fun memory” folder.
“We should probably sneak you out of here soon. I don’t want you to turn into a pumpkin or anything,” she told him. But geesh. She didn’t want him to walk out of her life and disappear into a puff of desert dust.
“How are you going to explain my leaving?” he asked. They lay on their sides, heads on their hands, chatting like old pals.
“You do live in Vegas, and have a business to run,” she pointed out.
“There is that.” He chewed on his lip for a second, then said, “But… I was wondering if you were going to have any free time before you have to go home.”
Something hot and fizzy woke up in her midsection, and she had to fight not to grin like a third grader on Christmas morning. “Yeah, why?”
He plucked the fabric of the bedspread between them. “Because I was thinking maybe I’d see if you wanted to go on a real date with me, Miss Kellie. Like to dinner. Or whatever.”
Whatever sounded really good. In the meantime… No. He’d never go for it, although she’d never know if she didn’t ask. If he ran? She couldn’t say she hadn’t tried. “I’ll see what I can work out. I do know that I have an open spot for a plus-one at a dinner party tomorrow night.”
He laughed. “Okay.”
“Really?” She probably better explain what was expected of him before he committed.
“Sure. I haven’t had this much fun in a long time.”
Kellie stared.
He shrugged. “I’ve been working pretty hard to get my business off the ground.”
“And you’re taking a weekend off to hang out with a has-been-before-she-started author? I might need to call your buddies for an intervention.”
An incredibly appealing line appeared between his eyebrows. “Why do you say that? The has-been thing?”
She shook her head. “I don’t mean to wallow. But I get here, and I see how far away I am from my goals… It’s exhausting.”
“What’s your goal?”
“First I need to keep my bookstore open. And that means I have to work for real money. After that? I’d love to publish my stories. I don’t need to hit a best-seller list, but I’d at least like to know that someone thinks my writing is good enough to take a chance on…that would be really cool.”
“What’s the first step?”
“Finish a book.”
“I’m not helping you get that done, am I?”
“It’s not going to happen tonight.”
He was sitting up now. “I should get going.” But it was said with a glance at her mouth. A hungry glance that intimated he thought he should go before he didn’t want to leave.
“Okay,” she said, squelching the urge to invite him to stay.
Unfortunately, as they got to the door, a voice in the hall called out, “Honey, when you come back up, bring a couple of bottles of Evian from the gift shop. And some Doritos.”
“Crud. Toby’s on the prowl. What if you run into him on the way out of here?” Kellie bit her thumbnail, wondering if she could sneak Quinn to the service elevator, but feeling kind of icky about that. Especially since she’d been so offended when Mark the Shark had done the wink and I’ll call you thing to her barely eighteen months ago.
“I can hang around a little longer and watch TV, or read, or something if you’ve got writer stuff to do.”
She felt her face try to break into a foolish grin and worked to school it. Try to act like you’ve been around a cute guy before, huh? “I could go for some TV.”
“I bet we can find an American Chopper marathon.” He grinned at her.
“Oh, I’d much prefer Downton Abbey, wouldn’t you?” she asked sweetly.
“Is there any hard liquor in that mini-fridge?”
Chapter Five
“Thanks, man,” Quinn said, handing the cab driver a handful of cash and slapping the hood as the tax
i pulled away.
The garage door of Quinn’s Customs was open already this morning, which was a good sign—the guys were busy working. Something Quinn needed to do as soon as possible. Get his hands dirty with some hard metal to get the clean, soft feel of Kellie Dalton out of his system.
Damn. He’d woken up wrapped in sweet Georgia peach—not where he’d planned to be this morning. Last thing he remembered, they’d been stretched out on the king-size bed—opposite sides of the bed—watching Jeopardy reruns on the Game Show Network, waiting for Toby to come home so that Quinn could sneak out undetected and leave Kellie in peace.
Instead, they’d both fallen asleep and somehow migrated to the center of the bed, where Quinn found himself at dawn, trying desperately not to follow his body’s command to caress Kellie until she woke, sleepy and sexy, and responded to his proximity.
Because sure as shootin’ she was aware of him on an unconscious level. The little movements she made against him, pressing against his erection as he held her gorgeous ass—
He’d had to very slowly, very carefully, ease himself away from her, probably the most painful exercise of his life.
But he would call later. He’d promised to come back for that hero party thing, whatever that meant. Heck, he’d even clean up a little, put on a decent shirt.
“Hey, there, boss. Doin’ the walk of shame this morning?” Darryl A. called from the office door.
For some reason, that idea grated on Quinn’s nerves. Even if something more than fake sex had happened with Kellie, whom he’d just met, he didn’t think he’d feel any shame about it. As long as she didn’t. That idea gave him pause.
What did she think of him? She seemed to like the idea that he was a blue-collar guy, but was that just a…fetish or whatever? Listening to her and Brae talk about the billionaire archetype and the alpha-hole and the wounded soul was funny at the time, but was that what she thought he was? The Badass Biker tortured soul?
Well, she’d be gone in a few days; it didn’t really matter. He was in for the fun and novelty, not for the long-term, long-distance relationship.
Darryl was waving a piece of paper. “Hey, boss. This came over the shop email this morning. Check it out.”
Quinn read the message. Then he read it again.
When he looked up, both Darryl A. and B. were standing in the door, grinning.
“Holy shit.”
Betty had been accepted into the Artistry in Iron show at the Las Vegas Bike Fest. Not only accepted, but given a prime slot. All of his hard work and skill were finally about to be recognized.
Until he looked over the shoulders of his employees and saw his pride and joy bent, scratched, and in need of one hell of a lot of work.
“We can get her fixed up in time,” Darryl B. assured him.
“I already called Holden. He’ll give you an overtime slot on the chrome. It’s gonna cost you an arm and a leg, but he can do it, and you know it will be worth it.”
Quinn nodded.
He’d planned to make a payment on his debt to his dad this weekend—the last official link to his failure to fulfill his parents’ hopes and dreams. He really wanted this show as a chance to prove to them that he was making a success of things. It would be tarnished if he couldn’t do it free and clear of debt.
He looked at his guys again, at the excitement and hope on their faces, and knew that he had to spend the money. Betty was worth it.
“Okay, guys, get to work.”
“We already have. You get the hell out of here. You know we do better when you’re not hanging over our shoulders. Don’t come back until Monday. Then it will be your turn to work on her.”
So much for getting his hands dirty to take his mind off Kellie until it was time to see her again.
…
Kellie sipped her third large cup of coffee of the day. It wasn’t so much that she was sleepy, but her mind kept wandering—away from the writing workshops she had paid to attend—to thoughts of a certain tall, dark stranger who had slipped out of her arms at first light.
She’d woken just as he moved the last bit away from her, but she was left with a drowsy memory of being snuggled next to Quinn’s warm, strong body during the night. She might have been embarrassed that she’d fallen asleep on him—and then fallen all over him—but he hadn’t disappeared without a trace. No, once she’d risen, she’d found a note, scribbled in a surprisingly legible scrawl, with a promise to return by seven to go to her hero party.
Hopefully he meant it, and it wasn’t his version of the wink and promise to call. Ugh. She was getting all worked up over a fake long-distance relationship. Thank goodness it wasn’t a real one or she’d be running down the hall knocking on doors and begging for Xanax.
Brae slid into the seat next to Kellie and handed her a bakery bag, reminding her of all those times her friend would show up late for class, bringing breakfast treats for Kellie, who lived off campus and could barely afford oatmeal—much less exotic muffins. “What did I miss?” she asked.
“I have no idea,” Kellie said. “One panelist says vampires are coming back. Another says men in kilts are a dying breed, no matter what you see on TV. And the lady in the leather corset says to write cozy mysteries with inspirational BDSM elements.”
“Jeez,” Brae said. “How does anyone get anything published?”
“That’s what I’m wondering. You’re so lucky that you’ve got books scheduled for the next forever.”
“Hmmm…” Brae was checking her phone and didn’t really respond. “Do you have an outfit for Quinn to wear to the hero party tonight?”
“I don’t think I need one. He’s coming as Zeus, who’s a badass warrior…and that’s kind of how Quinn dresses. Jeans, T-shirt, tattoos.” Yum. Kellie thought of how Quinn had looked when she’d peeked at him from under her eyelashes this morning. All rumpled and disreputable. God, and the way he smelled. Like leather and the desert at night.
She’d left the do not disturb sign on her room door when she left today because she didn’t want housekeeping to change the sheets or anything to mess up the way her pillows smelled this morning.
Yes, she was officially up to her eyeballs in feely-feels about this guy she’d found under her rear bumper.
“Does Toby have something special to wear?” she asked.
“I think he’s going to wear the tux from the opening scene of Lustful Lovers. I’m trying to convince him the assless chaps from the club scene would be better, but he says that other than onscreen, that’s just for me.” Brae giggled. “Besides, knowing Toby, he’d have to stop in the makeup trailer to get his backside polished before displaying it in public.”
Kellie coughed at the mental image, spewing coffee across her notes.
The woman in front of them turned and glared.
“What?” Brae widened her eyes in mock innocence. “You never got your butt buffed?”
The woman cocked her head, looking down at their name tags. Dismissing Kellie as a nobody with barely a glance, she focused on Brae and smiled. “Is that a metaphor?”
Clearly realizing that she had the upper hand—the I’m someone you’ve heard of so I must be credible hand—Brae grinned. Then, just like in college, when she would take on the most stuck-up preppy sorority girls on campus, she said, “Ohmigod, no! It’s a real thing. Seriously. There’s a demonstration in an hour in the karaoke bar.”
“Really?” the woman grabbed her program and began flipping through for the day’s schedule.
Fortunately, the woman was still ignoring her, so she didn’t notice the contortions Kellie went through to avoid bursting into laughter.
“Yep,” Brae went on, whispering now, because other people were starting to glance their way. “If you can find a cover model, you’re supposed to give him your card and tell him you want to polish his ass. Then everyone goes to the bar and they draw names, and whoever gets their name picked gets to help!”
“Seriously?” The woman’s eyes glazed over, probabl
y imagining all kinds of kinky fun.
“Shhh…” Someone behind Kellie and Brae hissed, and the woman turned back to the front.
Kellie and Brae were silent for a few minutes, both holding their sides to keep from laughing all over the conference room.
Kellie remembered why she loved her so much—enough to forgive the self-involved diva part of Brae and still want to be around her. “So.” She leaned in, now that she felt relatively certain she could talk again without falling on the floor. “Is that really acceptable to do that in a karaoke bar? It seems like a private kind of a thing.”
“Speaking of private.” Brae elbowed her. “My goodness. Y’all got up to some crazy stuff last night, didn’t you? You do know that these hotel walls aren’t three feet thick concrete, don’t you?”
Kellie’s whole body flushed. She hadn’t really thought she’d have to confront what she and Quinn had done—or pretended to do—by daylight. Shouldn’t Brae have been embarrassed to have heard that?
She opted to smile coyly, hoping it didn’t come off as a grimace. “Well, you know, we’ve been having this relationship long distance all this time. We had a lot to make up for.”
Brae snorted, a sound that was almost like her old friend, the one Kellie had sat up nights with in college, crying over old Bette Midler movies, drinking white zinfandel, and plotting ridiculous stories—which Brae had somehow managed to turn into a career.
“I’ve got to go. I’m supposed to be at a meet-and-greet in the Red Mask Room in a few minutes.”
Kellie opted to follow Brae out. The panel wasn’t telling her anything helpful, so she decided to go back to her room and check email and shower before—in case—Quinn came back to go to the party.
There were three other women waiting for the elevator who nodded to Kellie when she joined them. They carried on with their conversation, and she tried not to listen for about three seconds then gave up and opened her ears all the way.
“Did you see him flirting with Joyce Rodgers in the bar last night?”
“I saw him falling all over some woman, but I don’t know who Joyce Rodgers is.”
“She’s that publisher who’s starting a production company. She wants to make web-based romance series.”
Accidentally in Love With the Biker (What Happens in Vegas) Page 4
