by Alexis Anne
“You’ve already done that for me. What do you do next?”
He looked away and started fidgeting.
Interesting. It was as if he were nervous. Or maybe uncomfortable?
“Well, we usually flirt and then I suggest we head back to my room. They either throw their drink at me or say yes.” He shrugged, finally catching my gaze again, waiting.
Waiting for what, I wasn’t sure. Maybe he was gauging my reaction and hoping I’d end this conversation by suggesting we cut to the chase.
So that’s what I did. “Why don’t you just ask me back to your hotel now?”
I held my breath while I watched the transformation on his face. At first his eyes widened and then he blinked, his breath coming short and shallow. A sure sign he was aroused.
And then he surprised me.
“Because I’m enjoying this part too much and I’m not ready for it to end.” His cheeks were still pink, but now he looked me right in the eye. His gaze remained steady as the waitress appeared beside us, handing over our champagne, and he didn’t take his eyes off me as he held up the glass and clinked it against mine. “I’m enjoying your company and I thought that called for a little celebration. Trust me, that’s not a line I’ve ever used before.”
This was different. Everything from the way he was flirting with me to the way I was flirting back. It was all different.
“But it is a line.”
The corner of his lip turned up in a half smile. He swirled his drink and then took a sip. “It might be a line but it’s also true, Doc.”
Yep. I swooned again. Damn it all he was just too smooth to resist.
“Well, just so you know, I’m enjoying your company as well—and I don’t enjoy many people.”
“I find that hard to believe.”
If he really thought that then he had me all wrong. Or maybe he was just testing the waters by making waves. There was only one way to find out. “I like going out. I like partying. I don’t like people all up in my business.”
“Am I in your business right now?”
“No,” I replied. It came out breathy. As if I was turned on. And maybe I was. I hadn’t bantered with a sexy man in . . . well, I couldn’t remember the last time. It was thrilling. “What I mean is that most people look for a connection by being overly friendly. Over sharing. They jump right past pleasantries and suddenly I know they have a sister in Topeka with man trouble.” I shuddered.
“You go out to have fun.”
“Exactly.”
“Because you have a couple of really good friends.” He glanced over my shoulder back toward Zoe and June.
“I do.” And that was just about enough of the Carrie Show. “And you? What is it you’re looking for on a night like this?” Based on his explanation of picking up women it sounded like he was a one-night stand machine, but he didn’t give me that vibe at all. The contradiction was confusing.
And only adding to the mystery of why I was so intrigued by this man.
He took another sip. “Usually I’d say I was looking for fun. Any fun. Drinking, dancing, flirting, fucking . . . but I think tonight is different.”
Every cell in my brain fired the “Danger, Danger, He’s a Player” message loud and clear, but my instincts weren’t having it. My gut reaction to Wes was that he was genuine. He didn’t hide that he picked up women and that honesty was refreshing. Plus the way he looked me in the eye, flinched at my bluntness, he wasn’t hiding from me.
“Different how?” I asked.
He took a moment—hesitating again—before laughing a little as he cocked his head to the side, almost like he couldn’t believe he was about to say what he was about to say. “I think tonight I was looking for you, Carrie.”
“That’s such a line.”
He laughed again. “Don’t I know it. I can hear it. But it’s true and I don’t know how else to say it.”
“Try.” I wanted to believe him as much as I wanted this idea I had of him to be true.
“Well.” He shifted on his feet, fidgeting, but not looking away, which told me he was uncomfortable but genuine. “For one, I’m definitely having fun and we’re only talking, so I can only imagine that the fun with you is just beginning. I’m always on the hunt for someone who excites me.”
“And I excite you . . . physically?”
His eyes darkened. “Absolutely. But that’s not what I meant.”
“No?”
“You’re fun to talk to and look at. You’re smart, interesting, and a little bit mysterious.”
“Well, I am a surgeon. We tend to be on the smarter end of the spectrum. You know, with cutting people open and all.”
That got me a laugh. “I’ve met my share of dumb surgeons, Doc. Oh, they may be brilliant at what they do, but take them out of that O.R. and they’re pushing on the door that says ‘Pull’.” His eyes danced again. “And I get the feeling you’re in the corner rolling your eyes, watching.”
He stepped closer and I sucked in a breath.
“And I bet you’re the guy holding the door closed on the other side.”
“Usually. I enjoy causing trouble.”
“Or maybe you just enjoy watching how people react.”
He blinked in surprise. “My god, where have you been all my life? Can I kiss you?”
And he was sweet enough to ask for permission? He was perfect.
“I’d love to find out if you’re a good kisser.”
He set down his champagne and then mine, then stepped into me so that our hips brushed. The air around us crackled with electricity, warming my skin, causing the hair on my arms to rise. I was suddenly incredibly aware of how tall Wes was, that he was much bigger and stronger than me. Even in my heels I had to tilt my head back to look up at him. Not much, but enough.
“Good kisser, huh?” He loomed but didn’t make any indication he would move any closer.
“Well, if you kiss as good as you banter—”
He kissed me. Soft but fast. He lowered his lips to mine with just enough pressure to take my breath away. His hands lightly cupped my biceps, steadying me as I swayed. “You’re killin’ me, Doc.”
And he was killing me. One little amazing peck wasn’t nearly enough. So I took his face in my hands and pulled him back down for more, only this time I took the lead, kissing first his top lip, then the bottom, before kissing him full on the mouth.
That did him in. One second he was nearly stiff, and the next his arms were around me, crushing me to his strong frame as he opened to me, deepening a kiss that was already too hot to handle.
More. It was the only word rattling around in my head. Whatever was happening between us, it was good and addictive and I didn’t want it to stop. I ran my fingers into his hair, pressed my body against his, reveled in the way he reacted to my touch.
His breath grew more ragged and his kiss more urgent. His hands didn’t roam, instead they flexed, gripping me as if he never wanted to let me go.
“Fuck,” he groaned, pulling back. “We have to stop or we’ll get arrested for public indecency.”
What? Wait . . . was I just grinding on his leg? How had I not realized I was essentially humping him in plain sight?
I stepped back and straightened my dress, then my hair. “Well that was fun.” If fun meant “best kiss ever.” Because I was fairly certain that was the best kiss I’d ever had. Yes he made my heart pound and my body hum, but he also made me forget everything—where I was, what I was doing—and that was simply magical for someone who rarely stopped thinking.
He looked down, blushing again. “Did I pass?”
Did he pass? Sweet Jesus the man had no idea. “You’re a very good kisser.”
“Not nearly as good as you. Holy hell, woman.” He ran a shaky hand through his hair. “I’m not going to last the night.”
“I thought the goal was to take me home.”
He frowned. “The goal is to have a good time.” His slid his hand over my hip and squeezed. “And I’
m having a real good time right now.”
Everything south of my belly button tingled. “Just kissing?” Was I doing something wrong? I’d been pretty upfront about being up for anything. He should be dragging me back to his place by now. And yet . . .
He yanked me to him. “Kissing you was the most fun I’ve had in weeks. Maybe months. To be honest, I’m a little afraid of you now.”
Afraid? Of me? Well then. “Maybe we should take the edge off with something stronger than champagne.”
He blinked. “You might be crazier than me, and I never thought I’d say that.”
I liked that he thought that about me. I craved hearing him say more. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
He raised a hand to the passing waitress. “Can we get a couple of waters?” Then he turned to me. “Sit. Talk. Hydrate. Then, if we’re both still in the mood for a little exercise we can discuss terms.”
I sat, feeling a combination of pleased that I had Wes so riled up, and confused. “What do you want to talk about?” The erection in your pants? My wet panties? That I enjoy making you smile?
Why did I enjoy making him smile? This wasn’t my thing. I didn’t care about the men I slept with beyond their immediate pleasure. I didn’t even care if I made Zoe or June smile—well, not as a rule—but Wes? I wanted to excite him.
He glanced around the club, searching, finally landing on the bartender. “How many drinks do you think he makes per hour?”
“What?” Why did the bartender matter?
Wes sank back, stretching out his long frame. “I bet you have a brain for numbers. How many drinks is our fine bartender cranking out per hour?”
A challenge. Oh how I loved a challenge. “Well let’s see. He’s making three drinks now.” I opened the timer on my phone, my pulse quickening from the fun of figuring something out. “It took somewhere in the ballpark of two minutes to make those cocktails and now he’s jumping right into the next round. If he were to keep up that pace it would be ninety drinks per hour, but more than likely some are complicated, he’ll pause to breathe, run credit cards and start tabs . . . it’s probably fair to say he can mix fifty drinks an hour.”
Wes grinned and finally relaxed. “I like the way you problem solve, Doc.” He bounced his eyebrows, his blue eyes twinkling in the flashing lights. “Your turn. Give me something to figure out.”
Oh this was fun. Not too personal but interesting all at the same time. It was a way to get to know each other without the messiness of intimate details. “Our waitress. What’s her story?” I knew he was an amazing storyteller from watching entirely too many videos of him over the last few days, and now I’d get to see it in action.
His gaze sharpened as he thought. “Well, she’s young. Maybe twenty-three? And she loves her job. She enjoys seeing all the people and she likes the money she makes in tips, but it gets boring, so she wears those crazy tights to keep things interesting. And,” he leaned closer, nipping my earlobe before pressing a soft kiss to the skin behind my ear, “she’s just as interesting at home. She gets in late but her boyfriend works nights too. He waits for her. Strips those tights off every night, rubs her sore feet after a hot shower, then makes her come before going to sleep.”
I swallowed hard. “He sounds like an ideal boyfriend.”
“He is.” Then he put his hand on my thigh. “But really? That’s what all boyfriends should do.” His hand moved higher. Tickling but not.
“And you know this how?”
His thumb brushed the inside of my thigh. “I’m a fucking brilliant boyfriend, Carrie. I know you know who I am. Forget what you think you’ve heard.”
I pulled back. “What—”
“That I’m a player? That I have one-night stands. That I jump from woman to woman. It’s not all wrong, but it’s not all right, either.” He squeezed my thigh. “I don’t know what it is you’re expecting out of me. I’ve never met a surgeon outside of a doctor’s office before. Maybe you’re just looking for a quick round of fun.” He shrugged, searching my eyes. “But if there’s even a small chance you’re looking for something else—”
“Else?” Good god, this was not what I expected.
He smiled again, as if that was exactly the response he was hoping for. “There are a lot of ways to have fun, Doc. Many, many ways.”
“Oh . . . ” As in more than once. “I’m not looking for anything serious.”
He chuckled. “I think everyone can agree that I am many things, but none of those are serious.”
“We just met.”
“And I like you. You like me.” His eyes softened. “In the span of a few minutes we’ve been blunt, honest, and dirty. You might be the perfect woman or you might be a terrible idea. I can’t predict the future, but I damn well want to make sure if I’m right—and I’m pretty fucking sure I’m right—that we don’t ruin a good thing before it starts.”
I was really going to have to back off on June. If this was what she was feeling being thrown into the fire with Roman then no wonder she was flustered and confused. I went into this thinking I knew exactly how my night would go. I couldn’t have been more wrong.
And I really didn’t know what to do with that.
“So what do you say?” He brushed my hair over my shoulder.
I could honestly say that in all my years I had never once been propositioned in quite this way. Most men were either eager to indulge my desire for something quick and easy, no questions asked, or clear that we weren’t looking for the same things. I totally respected guys who wanted a relationship. I wished them well in their journey to find the right woman.
But Wes was a bizarre combination. He wanted light and fun but he seemed to yearn for more.
“You really think I’d disappear in the middle of the night?”
The corner of his lip quirked up. “You have one foot out the door right now, Doc.”
“And you don’t like that?”
He shook his head. “No. Besides, there’s no reason to go running. I make a mean pancake.”
Pancakes.
I didn’t want pancakes or a boyfriend, but the idea of having this kind of chemistry with the same man over and over again for a couple of weeks? I could get on board with that.
“This all very theoretical considering all we’ve done is kiss.”
An amazing, mind-altering kiss.
But he didn’t need to know that.
“Aw, Doc. Don’t play games with me. You and I both know that kiss was a sign we’d be amazing in bed together.”
No, that kiss was proof that our chemistry was off the charts. “Fun fact. In med school a group of us studied all the ways to bring on an orgasm. You’d be amazed by the options.” Or how ready I was to explore those.
His hand moved up my thigh. “I have a fun fact of my own.” He kissed my cheek, then whispered in my ear, “I’m willing to bet I know most of those ways, too.”
A whimper escaped my throat as visions of Wes between my legs a dozen different ways slammed front and center into my brain. “I’ve got one more fun fact for you. I’m friends with the manager of this club and I know the combination to her office.”
6
“How did you know I knew you?” I gasped as he pressed against me, his erection digging into me from behind as I entered the door code.
He kissed the back of my neck, his hands on my hips. “I know the signs.”
“Signs?”
“When I’m a target.”
Oh.
“I’m a pro athlete. Even on a bad day there is someone out there who wants a piece of me.” There was a sad quality to his voice that muted what was otherwise a very light man. “I don’t usually mind when it’s a pretty woman looking for a good time, but—”
The lock clicked free and the door swung open. I spun in his arms, putting mine around his neck. “But?”
“But I’m careful. Like I said, I’m not who you think I am.”
I was starting to realize that. Yes he was fun and up
for anything, but there was more there. “And what is it you think I’m thinking?”
He walked me backwards into the office and kicked the door shut. “That I’m a good time.”
“Is there something wrong with that? I thought that’s why we’re both here.”
He kissed me. The same skin-tingling electricity sparking everywhere he touched me. I’d never felt anything so heady before.
“You’re a surgeon. A female surgeon. A female surgeon in sports. . . do you ever have people judge you? Put you in a box? Assume things about you?” He lifted me onto the desk with ease, his movements careful and sure. “Don’t answer that. I know you do. I was raised with four women and I watched them deal with it all. I just never thought it would happen to me, too.” He pushed my skirt higher. “I’m a dumb jock who only thinks with his dick, right? I catch and I fuck, but I’m good looking and probably a decent lay, plus my bank account has a few zeros on it, so why not use that Wes Allen guy?”
“Stop.” I put my hands on his solid chest. “Wes, that’s not it. You have me all wrong.” Well, not completely wrong. I did want to use him, but not like that.
He didn’t look the least bit angry as he waited for me to explain. Mostly he just looked tired. And that did something to me. I’m really not sure what, but this dull ache began to pound in my chest.
“I don’t want a selfie,” I started slowly, “or for you to buy me anything.” Oh god. This was going to come out all wrong. “I—” I dropped my head against his chest to hide the way my cheeks were most definitely turning red.
He lifted my chin, the exhaustion I’d seen in his expression replaced with curiosity. “What is it?”
Being forced to see his gaze like this was too much. Too much feeling and exposure. My heart kept pounding harder and harder and I didn’t know why I was having such a strong reaction to everything with this man.
I never felt embarrassed. Pissed, yes. Done, for sure. But embarrassment was not one of those feelings I usually found in my arsenal. “I was hoping we would meet tonight so that this would happen.” I waved my hand between us. That was about all I could muster. No matter how hard I tried to come up with a logical story, I couldn’t. All I had was the reality that I wanted to bang him out of my system, and with him standing so close, I couldn’t think of anything else.
