by Violet Paige
“Oh no, sweetheart I’ll get it. I can get this round.”
“What? You have a problem with a woman buying you a drink?” She challenged.
He raised his hands. “No. Buy away. I like it.” He cracked a smile.
The waiter returned. “He’ll have a…” Skye offered, wondering what his drink of choice would be.
“Bourbon and coke,” the fake date answered.
“Alright.” The waiter disappeared.
“You start with the hard stuff.” Skye studied him. He was wearing charcoal pants and a light blue shirt rolled up to his elbows. He was fit and tan, but the close haircut was throwing her off. She skimmed through a list of possible scenarios: attorney—no, real estate—no, probably in pharmaceutical sales—yes, that seemed likely.
“Well, I just got back from a trip. And it is Friday night.” He winked at her and she felt the color rise in her cheeks.
The realization hit her that she didn’t know when the last time she had been on a date was. Of course, this didn’t count as a date. This was some random guy who sat down with her at a bar—not a date. It probably wouldn’t last longer than it would take for her to finish this glass of wine.
“So you travel for work?” The moscato tasted sweet.
He laughed and leaned back in his chair. “You could say that.”
She set a heated gaze on him. “Are you playing the mysterious card?” With her new embrace of reckless Skye, she liked not knowing much about him. It was thrilling just sitting and sharing a drink with a hot stranger.
“Depends on how much you want to know.” He eyed the waiter as he dropped the bourbon and coke on the table. “Thanks, man.” He kicked the glass back. Maybe he was being reckless tonight too.
“Why don’t you make up something?” she suggested.
He tilted his head. “Ahh, ok.” He paused. “How about this? I’m a doctor in town to work on a groundbreaking case. I’m about to save hundreds of lives, maybe thousands. But I’m only in town for the weekend.”
“So, the health of the world rests in your hands?”
“Uh-huh.” He finished the drink and rested it on the table.
“I have to say I’ve never had drinks with a famous, important doctor.” She grinned over her glass.
“What about you? What’s with the suit?” He nodded toward the lapel on her jacket.
Skye pursed her lips. This was her chance. She could be anyone she wanted to be. She didn’t have to be an ad executive, working tireless days to compete for accounts. She could be someone hot and sexy, someone that could make any man putty in her hands just for the night.
The idea popped in her head. “I’m a librarian in town for a literacy conference.”
He coughed. “A librarian who wears a sexy black suit to the bar?”
She blushed. Ok, maybe librarian wasn’t the best choice, but she had a vision of piling her dark hair in a bun and letting him pull the pencil holding it in place until it fell around her shoulders. She shook the image from her head. She didn’t even know this guy.
“I get the feeling you’re enjoying this.” She looked at her empty glass. Stuffy Skye would pay for her wine, walk out of the bar, and never look back. She would head to her apartment and start strategizing on how she could get the account back from Greg. But tonight, with the sudden appearance of this stranger, she was Reckless Skye and she held up her hand to order another glass. This must be what sexy librarians do.
“Can I get the next round?” He smiled.
She relaxed in the seat. “Sure.”
Two drinks later the room felt a little fuzzy, and her mysterious and spontaneous date for the night grew increasingly more appetizing. He had moved his chair next to hers after the last round.
“What do you say we get out of here?” he whispered in her ear. He let his finger inch up her thigh.
The words shot chills through her. She nodded knowing all night she had been pulled toward him like a magnet. The answer was going to be yes from the minute he sat down. She grabbed her purse while he paid the rest of the tab. It was pointless to argue about who should pay for drinks when she was getting ready to let him undress her.
He wrapped an arm around her shoulder and ushered her toward the door. Skye knew where this was headed, and it was exactly what she wanted. She wanted him to do things to her in the dark that would make her forget her name, her job, and her awful day. She wanted to scream and breathe and feel him against her. There was no doubt in her mind she wanted all of those things. For once she didn’t want to feel in control. She wanted him to drive the void right out of her.
“Where?” She turned toward him on the sidewalk, the gas lights flickering over his shoulder.
“What about your place?” he asked.
She nodded again. If he wanted to take her behind the bar and throw her against the brick wall, she would probably be ok with that. Everything about this felt forbidden, dangerous, and wrong, but she couldn’t stop. She wanted him.
“Well, since I’m in town for the conference I have the keys to my friend’s apartment. It’s only a few blocks away.” She liked carrying out the librarian charade a little longer. It felt liberating.
He smiled, brushing the hair from her neck. Her knees almost gave way. Three glasses of wine with a flirty touch, and she was a goner.
“Sounds perfect.”
She grabbed him by the hand and tugged for him to follow her. She didn’t want to lose her nerve. She needed to get laid in the worst way.
The keys dropped to the floor as she tried to pull out the right one. “Dammit,” she cursed under her breath.
Finally, she found the right one and jiggled the key in the lock before shoving the door open. For once, she was glad she spent all her time in the office. Her apartment was immaculate. Not a dish in the sink or a magazine left open. It was as if no one lived in the turn-key place. She blushed knowing this guy didn’t give a damn about her décor, as long as she didn’t have chintzy china on the walls and pictures of cats knitting he probably wasn’t going anywhere.
She debated offering him something to drink, but he snaked his arms around her waist and his mouth was hot on her neck. He peeled the jacket from her arms, tossing it on the floor. She tried not to worry about the hundreds of wrinkles forming in the silk. Reckless girls didn’t worry about insignificant details.
“I like the librarian look. Just wish you had some glasses.” He growled. “I’ve always had a librarian fantasy.”
She gasped as he spun her against his chest. All night they had flirted and told funny stories about their fake identities just to get to this moment. The moment when they could dive into the attraction that had held them at the table for hours. She had gotten lost in his pale blue eyes at first glance. Now she was ready for her body to give in to the rest of him. She wanted to dive in head first more than anything.
Her hands searched for the buttons on his shirt and flicked them to the side. The lights from the courtyard below glowed through the blinds, and Skye marveled at his arms and his chest. Dangling around his neck was a necklace with two tags. She felt them between her fingers and searched his eyes for answers. Tonight wasn’t supposed to be about answers she reminded herself. It was supposed to be about getting lost. She pulled the tags over his head and tossed them on the floor, letting her fingertips graze the space on the chest where they used to be.
This guy was unreal, and suddenly she felt very self-conscious. But something in the look he cast her made her shake those insecurities. He wanted her. He wanted librarian, mysterious, reckless Skye. And that’s who he was going to get.
She moaned as his mouth took hers, and she tasted the combination of bourbon and wine on his tongue. He held her face with one hand while the other pulled the camisole from her skirt and worked its way along her stomach, trailing the soft skin until he reached her bra.
She reached behind her back to unclasp it for him. He pulled the cami over her head and with it the bra. She realized it was the only sexy thing s
he was wearing, but it didn’t matter anymore as it landed on the floor.
Her head rocked back as he kissed along her throat and his tongue made a line straight to her breast. He rolled a nipple between his fingers before his mouth covered it with heat and lightning strikes of sensation. The place between her legs began to respond with a pulse that was driving her wild.
“Damn, I want to take you right here.” He nodded toward the couch.
“Do it.” She breathed.
He yanked on the zipper to her skirt and it fell to the floor in a puddle. She stepped to the side, kicking it out of the way. She lay against the cushions, her body on fire with anticipation. This was a first. She had never had a one-night stand. She strictly adhered to dating for a solid month before sex. It was the golden rule she never broke, but right now that seemed like the most absurd rule ever created. Why wasn’t she doing this all the time, she thought as he hooked his thumbs on the edge of her panties and stripped them off her skin, leaving her naked on the couch. Reckless felt good. Reckless felt empowering.
She watched as he unbuckled his pants and chucked them on the floor. The only thing separating them now was a pair of black boxer briefs. She tugged on the waistband, ready for what was inside.
He kissed her deep and hard. Instinctively she wrapped her arms and legs around him, willing him to press into her.
“Hold on.” He shifted on top of her and reached for the floor. She heard him rustle through his pockets. She laid there, her legs locked against his waist, her chest heaving, the fire in her core burning for him. “Dammit,” he mumbled.
“What’s wrong?” She didn’t want to unwind from him, but she released his waist as he sat back on his heels.
“This is awkward.” He ran his fingers over the top of his hair. “Do you have any condoms?”
Sudden panic and full-on embarrassment ran through her. Condoms? If she had them did that say she had sex all the time and therefore kept an ample supply in close proximity? Or if she didn’t, did it say she was a lonely spinster who never had sex because she was a total workaholic? Since she couldn’t bullshit her way out of her desperate spinster status, she sat back on the couch, her palms pressed against her forehead.
“No. I don’t.”
“Shit.” He breathed heavily. “Sorry, I thought I had one.”
The shadows from the blinds, slashed across his face. “So, you usually keep them with you for medical emergency trips?” she asked.
He chuckled. “Yeah, something like that.” He turned toward her. “I guess sex is out, but that doesn’t mean everything else is.” He grinned as he pulled her under him.
“Wh—what are you doing?” She wiggled under him, not sure what was happening. Without a condom, she assumed her hormones would have to go back in check. It was a disappointing thought.
“There are other ways we can make each other feel good.” He smiled as his head dipped toward her breasts, and his tongue began a slow delicious torture that had Skye writhing under him.
“Oh,” she sighed. “Ok. Keep. Doing. That.” Everything that came from her mouth was breathy.
His hand slipped between her legs and parted her so he was touching her where she hadn’t been touched in forever. She tried to bring her knees together, but it felt good the way he stroked and moved his fingers inside her until she was rocking her hips toward him faster. She didn’t care how it made her look or that she was going to ask for more. Being with a total stranger stripped away inhibitions that usually kept her on the safe and quiet side of her sensuality. She’d never see this guy again.
“Don’t stop,” she begged. “Please.”
“You like it?” he whispered in her neck.
“More, give me more,” she pleaded. She gripped on to him with her life as she thrust against his hand. “I want it.”
Was almost-sex with a stranger supposed to feel this incredible? She didn’t know, she just wanted to take it. He could kiss her, lick her, touch her anyway he wanted if it felt like this. She felt her core tighten and pulse as he moved against her. Why weren’t there any damn condoms? She held on as long as she could, but he was skilled and she was no match for his fingers. At first it was a slow wave that shook her until finally she was trembling and panting underneath him from massive waves of electric heat.
“Oh my God.” She covered her face with her hands. “I can’t believe I just did that.”
He kissed her, his tongue working its way into her mouth. Just when she thought she had hit the highest level of embarrassment, he made her forget all about it with a kiss that made her drunker than the moscato wine.
“That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.” He broke from the kiss.
“Really?” she winced.
“Absolutely. I can now scratch making a librarian come off my bucket list.” He winked, then kissed her shoulder.
Skye slinked deeper into the couch. What had she just done? Making up a fake identity and having drinks with a total stranger was one thing. Bringing him back to her apartment, getting naked, and letting him give her the most explosive orgasm she’d had in a year was something entirely different. But damn, it was incredible. Her entire body felt relaxed and fulfilled in his arms.
He was still hovering over her. Was he waiting for something? He bit his lower lip as he scooped her in his hands and flipped her onto his chest.
“Whoa—what?” The room spun as she tried to catch her new bearings. It was a whole new perspective sitting on top of this incredibly hot stranger.
Even in the dark, she could see his killer smile. “My turn.”
He positioned her legs over his waist as his fingers dug into the soft flesh above her hipbones. His thumbs pressed down causing her hips to rock back and forth. She began to grind against him to relieve the pressure.
“Oh my God.” Her head flew back and she cursed the condom situation again.
“Like that.” He groaned. He grasped at her breasts and the rocking quickened. “Come for me again.” He clutched at her lower back and Skye heard the moans rising from her throat as his breath quickened. For not-sex, this was fucking amazing.
Three
Bolt could smell the coffee before his eyes were open. He shook his head and sat on the couch.
“Good morning.” He grinned. It came back to him. Last night he had gone home with the librarian. Of course they both knew she probably had never stacked a book in her life. She was in the kitchen, her dark hair pulled in a ponytail. It had hung loosely on her shoulders at the bar. He wondered how long she had been awake.
“Oh, hey.” She kept her head down and was busy with something over the sink.
He stretched his arms toward the ceiling before dropping to the floor for pushups. It cleared his head. After a count of thirty he hopped up from the floor and walked toward the kitchen where she was furiously scrubbing a water glass.
“Last night was fun.” He winked at her.
“Uh—yeah, it was great.”
“I think you missed a spot.” He pointed to the glass covered in bubbles. It was perfectly clean, but she seemed nervous. He noticed there wasn’t a crumb on the counter. It didn’t look like anyone lived in the place.
She shot him a look. “You don’t have on any pants.”
He saw the way her cheeks turned a deep crimson. “I think you took care of those last night.” He didn’t know why, but something about her made him want to test her. She was a bundle of contradictions that he wanted to unwind. Last night felt like only the beginning of what he could get her to do.
He walked back toward the couch and dug into the cushions until he retrieved his boxer briefs. He slipped them on and reappeared in the kitchen.
“This better?”
“Uh—sure.” She reached near him for a coffee cup.
He felt her elbow graze his shoulder. “Can I have a cup?”
She nodded, then handed him a mug.
This was unchartered territory. Bolt waited for her to pour a cup then he tipped the p
ot toward his cup. Usually, women clamored for his number or gushed about the night before. The silent treatment was a first.
“Why don’t we go get some breakfast?” He placed the cup on the counter. “You like pancakes?”
He eyed her legs. She was wearing a pair of boxer shorts and a cropped T-shirt. He knew last night when he spotted her at the bar she had an incredible body under that suit, but it was like unwrapping a present when he got her home. Each layer he took off surprised him by revealing something more gorgeous and sexier than the last. He wasn’t ready to admit that last night was a first for him too. He had never spent the night with a woman and not had sex. True, it wasn’t platonic by any means, but it still wasn’t sex and that hadn’t happened since high school.
“Breakfast?” she questioned.
“Yes, you know the meal that people eat in the morning. Usually comes before lunch.”
“I don’t know.” She hesitated. “I’ve got the literary conference thing.” She stared at the floor.
That was all he needed to hear. “Ok. Well, enjoy your conference.” He walked to the living room to redress. His clothes were piled under the coffee table. He debated whether he should try again, but he had dated and slept with enough women to know when the game was over. This one had climbed back into her shell. She must be one of those buttoned-up proper types who goes crazy after a glass of chardonnay and wakes up with instant hangover remorse. He smiled, glad even if it was only for a few hours, he had pulled her out of her comfort zone. She was like wildfire under his touch and he had enjoyed every second of it.
He walked toward the door. “Last night was fun.” He waved as he pulled on the handle. “Nice to meet you.”
“Uh-huh. Yeah.” She barely smiled.
Bolt closed the door behind him and walked toward the elevators. Nice to meet you? What kind of line was that? He shook his head. Three days in a row he had left a woman behind as he walked toward an elevator, but for the first time he left with something—regret. He hesitated in front of the elevator bay. Maybe he should go back and ask for her number. Maybe he should ask her real name. No. That wasn’t part of his plan. Fly straight, he reminded himself as the doors shut and he descended to the lobby.
