by Jill Monroe
This wasn’t just a guy she could take to bed and leave all emotion behind. Owen was a man she could actually like. Which made him not the best candidate for a one-off night of ecstasy, but she wasn’t backing away now. Owen was the man she wanted.
“Where to?” he asked when they were alone in the PharmaTest parking lot. He’d been right; they had traveled only a few blocks in Tony’s sports car. “You want to find someplace else to go? Wanna grab something to eat?”
But Stella didn’t want to talk or think. “What do you want to do?” she asked, knowing he wasn’t the kind of man for delay tactics. He’d made it clear he wanted her, and right now she wanted to hear it. Again.
He gifted her with that sexy half smile again. “I don’t care what we do. Or where we go. I just want to be with you.”
Exactly. She just wanted to kiss this gorgeous, sexy man again and again. She sank her fingers into the short hair behind his neck and urged his lips toward hers.
Not much urging was required. With a groan, his lips once again settled against hers. “I’ve thought of nothing else since spotting you at this place,” he admitted against her mouth. Then his tongue slipped inside her mouth and along her tongue and she was done. Done in. Done for. Exactly what the doctor ordered.
Seriously? What the doctor ordered? Had she just made that crack in her head? So Hayden wasn’t the only one who could make bad jokes.
Time to get serious. “Your place close?” she asked between kisses.
He cupped her face, stroking her cheeks with the pads of his thumbs. His eyes were heavy-lidded with desire, his hazel eyes almost brown. “I don’t live in Dallas. I’m only here a few days, visiting for my grandmother’s birthday, and the place is too crowded. You?”
She shook her head. “Same. I have three roommates.”
“I want to be alone with you,” he said, the warmth of his breath teasing her temple.
Had this guy actually made her shiver with just a few whispered words? Him. Exactly.
“Alone with you sounds about perfect.”
His eyes squeezed shut for a moment, and a small smile played along his lips. Had he doubted how much she wanted him? Well, yeah, probably, because when did this kind of devastating instawant actually happen? His show of relief made warmth spread throughout her body.
His hazel eyes opened and his smile widened. For her. “It’s been a while since I’ve been in Dallas, but I think there’s a hotel not far from here.”
Stella nodded. “I know the one. By the park.”
“My car’s that way,” he told her, pointing toward a battered truck with Colorado plates. They raced together toward his car.
The hotel was far swankier than she’d remembered. A landmark boutique hotel in the Dallas area, it had a lush art-deco lobby, complete with a large crackling fire. The rubber soles of her shoes didn’t do justice to the sleek hardwood floors beneath them, set in striking geometric designs. Chevron-patterned wallpaper lined the walls. Thick, luxurious drapes in gold and burgundy flanked the deep-set bay windows, many of them displaying stained glass that she would have loved to inspect—if she weren’t with the world’s sexiest man.
Everything about the place screamed luxury and expense. Except a place like this didn’t scream. Never anything that crass. This was the hotel that enforced a dress code, and while Owen looked amazing in his jeans and casual polo shirt, his clothes were not fit for the Market Gardens hotel. Or hers.
But Owen kept walking to the ornately carved wooden desk that was less like a check-in counter and more like the kind of thing a millionaire shipping tycoon—no, a billionaire investment banker—kicked up her stilettos on.
“Welcome to the Market Gardens. What name is your reservation under?” the friendly yet cool clerk asked them. In a suit and tie, he looked exactly like the kind of man who could hold his own against the wealthily entitled of the world as well as two people who’d just walked in off the street on a whim.
Stella bit back a laugh. They’d not thought this hotel plan through. Of course the Market Gardens required reservations. She began to turn away.
But Owen played it cool as well, which probably wasn’t a stretch for him. “No reservation. What do you have available?”
The smile faded from the clerk’s face. “We’re usually booked up several weeks in advance.”
They must look like exactly what they were—two people up for a little spontaneous rendezvous. Even that was too generous. Sex. They were down for some hot and dirty sex.
“We’re only interested in tonight,” Owen continued.
With lips pursed, the clerk toggled the mouse and woke up the computer discreetly hidden beneath a carved wood panel.
“Would you prefer a courtyard view?” he asked. “I have a suite.”
Her shoulders stiffened in alarm. A courtyard view in this place must cost a fortune. “That’s okay—”
“Absolutely,” Owen said, and slid his credit card toward the reservationist.
“You’ll be in one of our tower rooms, second floor.” With a few clicks of the mouse and a swipe of the card, the transaction was complete. The clerk slid over a leather case containing their key cards.
Wow. Even the fanciest hotel she’d ever stayed at had only presented her with a folded-over piece of cardstock with the plastic key card stuffed inside.
The clerk signaled for the bellhop. A young man sporting a gray blazer trimmed with gold at the cuff and neck quickly appeared, friendly smile in place.
“We don’t have any luggage,” Owen informed them without a trace of embarrassment, even though she felt the heat of a blush in her cheeks.
“Of course, sir,” the clerk responded coolly, unfazed.
Why should she even care? She was here to live her life before her job took it over again after this quick break.
“Actually, I do have a duffel bag inside my truck. I’ll be right back.”
No way was he leaving her here alone in the lobby of snobs. Stella quickly followed on his heels.
He’d mentioned earlier that he’d wanted to impress her. She didn’t want him to face an ugly credit card bill to do it. “Owen, this place has got to be way too much money.”
“It’s on me,” he told her and fished out the keys to his truck. A large black duffel bag rested on the backseat, and he picked it up and swung it up over his shoulder.
Stella had grown up with two working doctors for parents, so money had never been tight, but rash expensive impulses weren’t something they’d ever indulged in. She didn’t want Owen to feel as if she expected it. “I just don’t want you to think you have to spend a lot of money on me. Maybe they have another roo—”
He gripped her by the shoulders. “Stella, it’s done. The only excuse my parents would accept for me not staying with them is that I’m at the Market Gardens. Besides, we’re living life,” he told her, then stifled any further protest with a kiss.
Living life in a swanky hotel with the world’s sexiest guy...why was she complaining again? He crooked his elbow to her in the habit of his that she was really beginning to like.
“The elevator is right this way,” the bellman informed them as they entered. They followed him into one of the elevators. She met Owen’s gaze on the short trip to the second floor. Heat and desire emanated from his gaze. It was amazing to be wanted so desperately.
The bell dinged above their heads but didn’t break the spell between them. With each step toward their room, her body ached more and more with yearning. She needed this man’s hands on her skin. His lips teasing her nipples. His fingers between her legs.
The bellman swept the door wide, and she gasped at the lavish room. She’d heard the word suite when the clerk had confirmed the reservation, but Owen had booked a Suite with a capital S.
A beautiful sitting area beckoned them to indulge in luxury. A small two-person dinette waited for them in the corner, decorated with a vase of fresh Texas wildflowers. Her feet sank into the thick carpet, but she forced herse
lf not to rush toward the bedroom. Slow and steady steps would get her there just the same.
Owen tipped the bellman and followed her into the bedroom.
“Is there a bigger bed size than king?” she asked. “I think an entire family could sleep on this—”
He cut off her musings by tracing the curve of her ear with his tongue. Her eyes drifted shut and she leaned against him. Her back fit perfectly against his chest.
His hands moved to cup her breasts as he weaved a lazy path down the side of her neck with his mouth and lips. She sucked in a breath and ground her backside into his cock, which was already hard and thick in his jeans.
She steadied herself against his thighs, stroking and learning the lines of his muscled legs. Was there a part of this man that wasn’t sexy? His fingers found the buttons of her shirt, but he was too slow.
“Just yank.” Her voice was almost a growl; she needed this man’s hands on her breasts.
Buttons flew with one quick pull and he smoothed the shirt from her shoulders. He tugged her bra up, exposing her breasts. Her nipples puckered from the abrupt change in temperature and the anticipation. Then his hands cupped her breasts, warming and shaping and molding them. She moaned deep in her throat.
“You feel perfect in my hands. I want to taste you.”
But her knees would have given out from that kind of pleasure. “I’ll race you to the bed,” she challenged and dove onto the ginormous king-size mattress. Stella grabbed the covers and yanked them back. “Mmm, triple sheeting. Nice.”
“Only the best,” he told her, his gaze tender and warm and sexy as hell.
She cupped his face. “I’ll remember this forever.”
He dipped his head. “Then let’s continue making those memories.” His lips found an über-sensitive spot beneath her ear. She sucked in his scent and this experience. She never wanted to forget this crazy night.
“What if that lady was right?” she asked. Alarm jerked though her body.
“What lady?” he asked, trailing his tongue down the column of her throat.
Moisture pooled between her thighs in response, but she couldn’t force the warning away. “The lady at PharmaTest. She said we wouldn’t remember tonight.”
He lifted his head. A tiny line formed between his brows. Then he shook his head. “You said it yourself. Control group. We must have gotten the placebos. Everyone in that place was asleep but the four of us.” Owen stared her square in the eyes and smiled. “Besides, there’s no way I’m forgetting this. I mean, c’mon, you’re...amazing.”
And now heat pooled somewhere in the vicinity of her heart. No man had ever looked at her like Owen was at this very moment and told her she was amazing. The tension left her shoulders, and she urged him toward her. “You’re right. I’d never forget you. How could I? I’ve never done anything even remotely like this.”
“This is a first for me, too. You’re a first,” he said as he returned his lips to her skin, this time kissing along her collarbone.
Her lids drifted shut as a wave of sensation slid along her nerve endings. “You feel so good.”
“Just wait,” he whispered against the swell of her breast. “I’m going to make you feel a lot better.”
He lowered his head and sighed.
But that nagging doubt wouldn’t completely wane. Some cautions were just too ingrained. Had lived inside her soul for too long. Owen sighed again, but this time not from pleasure. “You’re still worried,” he said.
“How could you tell?”
He made a face that said don’t be ridiculous.
“I just can’t imagine how weird it would be to wake up and not remember a thing. I don’t want to start all over again with you. I want to wake up and be exactly where I am right now,” she told him, wiggling her hips against his. He groaned.
“I have an idea. Hotels always have notepads and paper. We’ll write notes to ourselves, just in case.”
“Good idea.”
She scrambled off the bed in search of paper and pens, pausing only long enough to twist back into her bra and slide her shirt over her arms. Living in the moment was one thing. Doing it topless while a sexy man gazed upon you was quite another. Too unnerving. More like too distracting. She needed to keep her emotions battened down tight just a little bit longer.
A few minutes later she sat at the dinette, trying to decide what to write.
Dear Stella,
Okay, really? That was just pathetic.
In case you don’t remember last night, let me just tell you that you are one lucky woman. Lucky because you get to discover all over again what a great kisser Owen is. In fact, he is everything you’d want in a man. Besides sexy as hell, he’s adventurous, caring and clearly knows how to give you org—
Okay, so she didn’t know that yet, but c’mon. The man gave her the quakes and shivers just by licking her nipples.
Actually, maybe this whole note-to-herself thing was kind of dumb. Sure there were strange side effects with any medication, but twenty-four-hour memory loss would be...odd. Clearly the woman had been just trying to scare them, which, frankly, was very unethical.
But could Stella really blame her? The poor lady probably would have said anything to keep them from leaving. Stella owed PharmaTest, and specifically the unknown lady, a big apology. Thankfully she didn’t have to feel too guilty; drug testers used large pools of volunteers specifically because many people dropped out of studies for any number of reasons.
Across from her, Owen clicked his pen and placed it on the table. “Already done?” she asked.
He shrugged. “Didn’t need to say much.”
Was that a good thing?
“What did you write?” he asked, picking up the pen again and twirling it between his fingers.
She playfully held the note card to her chest. Was he nervous? Worried that she’d say something negative about him? That was kind of endearing and sweet. Of course, endearing and sweet didn’t guarantee him a peek at her letter. She stuffed it in her purse.
“What I wrote is a secret. Besides, I’d only gotten a few sentences in when I realized these notes might be a waste of time anyway. In fact, just to make this interesting...”
Stella reached for a new note card and wrote in large block letters:
DON’T TRUST TONY AND HAYDEN.
His brow furrowed for a moment. Then he laughed. Man, that was one sexy laugh. The kind that made shivers tingle down her spine. “Nice one. May I?”
She handed him the pen, his rough fingers sliding along hers. Had he done that on purpose just to touch her? He’d used a perfectly good pen moments ago when he’d written his own note card.
He scribbled something on a new note card.
She turned the note so she could read it. “Oh, you have terrible handwriting. And I’m the one who’s going to be a doctor.” Then she read:
Don’t trust anyone.
“We should make more and hide them around the room,” she suggested. They spent the next few minutes writing even more notes to themselves until all the paper was used. She laughed until her shoulders shook and she had to lean against the doorframe of the bedroom.
“We are either going to find this really funny or so dumb when we wake up in the morning,” he told her.
She felt the warmth of his breath and turned. When had he gotten so close? Stella gripped the hem of his polo shirt and tugged it up his chest. Owen helped her pop it over his head.
Shirtless beside her, Owen seemed so much more intimidating. His body was a finely tuned masterpiece of honed muscle. She traced the tattoo of a flame, ax and helmet on his bicep. His muscles tightened under the gentle exploration of her fingers.
“So you really are a firefighter.”
“You doubted me?”
“I can see guys making up having that job and using it to their advantage. Some women find firemen kind of hot.”
“The only woman I want to find it hot is you.”
“How often do you carry p
eople fireman-style?” she asked, her fingers now following the tight pec muscles of his chest. He had to be strong to battle his way through walls and burning debris to save people who were frightened and suffering from smoke inhalation.
“It’s part of the training. Care for a demonstration?” he asked, his tone teasing.
“Absolutely.”
“There’s a price,” he warned, and he began to nuzzle the back of her neck.
“And your terms are?” Whatever it was, she doubted it would be too tough a debt to pay.
“What does your note card say about me?” he asked as he licked the column of her neck.
“Mmmmm.” Her knees trembled and she leaned against the tower of his body.
“Stella,” he prompted.
Wow. Was he actually apprehensive about what she’d told her future self about him? She planned to keep her ideas of his orgasm-inducing abilities to herself. “It’s no big deal what I wrote. We’re not really going to forget tonight, and writing them was just a waste of time. What did you write about me?” she challenged. No way would he show it to her.
But Owen dug the note card from his back pocket and handed it to her.
Whatever you do, don’t let Stella go without giving it a shot.
Her mouth dried. There were a lot of sexy things about Owen—the rich timbre of his voice, the muscled strength of his arms, his tight ass—but that note, his words...that was the most erotic thing she’d discovered about him so far.
She swallowed and turned to face him. “Well, that note’s not a waste of time.”
“And?”
She shook her head. “Still not going to see my card.”
He expression turned regretful. “And I so wanted to demonstrate my ability to hoist you over my shoulder.”
He stuck by his word and didn’t give in easily. She liked that about him. She liked everything about him.
“Do you believe in love at first sight?”
Owen’s eyes widened and he swallowed. “Uh...”
