The concrete of the steps still held the warmth of the day and for a moment, I just sat there, enjoying the night. Birds chirped out their goodnights to one another from the trees, and the gurgle of the fountain in the center of the small lake soothed my nerves. A light breeze cooled my skin and brought the rich scent of lush green vegetation to my nostrils. But still, I couldn’t help thinking about a certain cowboy.
That’s when I heard his voice.
“I bet you thought I forgot about you, huh?”
He stepped out of the shadows, his thumbs tucked in the front pockets of his tight jeans and looked at me from under the brim of his black cowboy hat, pulled low.
I wanted to say something witty. Something sexy. Something to make such a gorgeous, charismatic guy remember me forever. I swallowed.
“Hi.”
He climbed the steep steps and sat down beside me. “Waiting on a ride?”
There was a scant inch between his body and mine and heat radiated from him like I was sitting next to an inferno.
“No, just relaxing a minute before I head home.”
“Mind if I sit with you?”
“No. Not at all.”
Silent tension built between us like the charge in the air just before a lightning strike. It was his scent, his body heat, the night, his closeness. It was the anticipation. The danger. The pure animal attraction that hummed between us.
“So what do you do when you’re not being a goddess?” He turned towards me.
“I’m a singer.” I smiled. “Like of half of Nashville.”
“Have I seen you anywhere?”
“Not unless you hang out at Willie’s Wagon Wheel.”
He laughed again. “It’s been a while, but I’ve tossed down a few over there. I played there a few times, too. Watch out for Willie, though.”
“Yeah. Thanks for the warning.” I’d slapped Willie’s roaming hands more than once while the band and I were setting up and tearing down the previous night.
Dex laughed. “He has a thing for blondes. Can’t say that I blame him.” He leaned closer and, still smiling, tucked a loose corkscrew of hair behind my ear.
That simple touch, barely a whisper of skin on skin, seemed to ignite something in both of us. The thing that had been between us all night, barely under control. Carnal awareness had burgeoned from that first “Ma’am” but when his finger brushed my cheekbone and then the shell of my ear, well, it simply exploded.
I tilted my head back and swayed towards him at the same time he reached to cup my face in his hands. Our lips met in a sizzle of heat and need that took my breath away.
His lips were warm and probably would have been soft if he hadn’t kissed me so hard and with so much built-up tension. His tongue did funny, fantastic things to my mouth and he nibbled and kissed and caressed my mouth so thoroughly that I instantly knew what sex with him would be like: hot, hard, and devastating.
The leash on my control had snapped, too. I slid my hands in his hair, knocking his hat to the cement, and pressed against every inch of him I could reach. He tasted a little of beer and something sweet. The slight scruff on his cheeks and chin tickled my mouth and face and I grew even hotter imagining that whisker burn all over my body.
He broke the kiss and with a wild look in his eyes, he pulled me to standing and walked us backwards until the warm, smooth stone of the building was at my back. With the spotlights shining on us, I could see the way his eyes darkened with need, the set of his jaw, the pulse point in his neck and the way his breath came swift and strong from between his white teeth.
Dex slid his arms around my waist and lower until he could squeeze my backside, pulling me against his body. I could feel the unmistakable bulk of his hard-on and fire shot straight to my center.
He kissed a trail down the side of my neck and throat and I looked skyward to give him better access. One of his thighs slipped between mine to provide the intimate pressure I needed. I bit my lip, loving the hot, sweet need that coursed through my veins.
Dex moved lower and pressed hot, hungry kisses along the neckline of my toga. He tugged the loose top lower and explored the exposed flesh with tongue and lips until I groaned his name.
I felt him smile and he broke off long enough to look at me, his lips wet, his eyes large and dark with desire. “Say my name.”
“Dex,” I whispered again. “Dex.”
He groaned and slipped the fabric of my toga down my arm. The sensation of warm night air on one bare breast followed by the sweep of his tongue and rough pull of his lips on my nipple brought a renewed chorus of his name from my lips.
I let my hands roam over his broad shoulders, down the snug fit of his shirt. I pushed it up a little so I could feel him, flesh to flesh. His skin was hot and smooth and I wanted to feel that hard body against mine. I wanted to feel him over me and inside me and hear his deep voice tell me exactly what he was going to do to me all night long.
Desire blazed through me fast and strong. Tension wound tight in my belly and moisture gathered between my thighs. I gritted my teeth. I wanted him fast and hard and right now.
I tugged at his large belt buckle until it came loose, then fumbled with the button on his Levi’s. His cock was too hard and too big to do much with the zipper, so he pushed my hands aside and eased it carefully down himself.
When he was free, I grasped his burning flesh and, licking my lips, stroked him from root to tip. His hips jerked against mine and he tugged the skirt of my toga up with shaking hands until the night air kissed my bare legs and thighs.
We were going to do it. Right here, right now. Neither of us had enough patience to go back to my apartment or his, or even make it to my car. The forbidden fantasy of sex in a public place amped up my already fierce libido to a point of near pain. But I knew we were on display under the spotlights that lit up the building. And the Park Police were out there somewhere.
“The light,” I managed to get out, almost too lost to care. “We should probably go –”
He broke away from me and before I knew what he had in mind, he kicked out the spotlight. A shower of glass and sparks exploded from the box and then we were alone in darkness.
He strode back to me and buried his hands in my hair. Dex pressed against me so I could feel every hard plane of his body. “Better?” he asked and even though it was now dark, I could feel my favorite bad-boy grin stretch across his lips.
“Perfect,” I sad just before his mouth cam down over mine again.
Dex wasted no time. He shoved the toga up to my waist and stroked my wet sex though the silk of my red thong. I would have been a puddle at his feet if he hadn’t been pressing me into the wall, holding me upright.
I ran my hands under his shirt, over his chest, teasing his flat nipples until they were as peaked as mine. Then I let my hands wander down, down, down to his hips and pulled him even harder against me. I wanted him, needed to feel him.
His fingers traced the line of my panties before delving inside. He stroked my swollen clit gently, but with just enough pressure to make me cry out. Tension built low in my belly and the blood rushed though my veins. I arched against him.
“Dex.” It was a cry, a plea and he understood implicitly what I needed.
One long finger slid deep inside me and my legs buckled. He grasped me around the waist and moves his mouth to my ear. “You’re so sexy, so wet for me, aren’t you, honey? You’re making me crazy.”
When he added a second finger and began to move slowly in and out, I couldn’t speak, could barely breathe. The pressure, the long stretch felt so good. It had been a long time since I’d had sex with anything that didn’t require batteries, and Dex Wilder was definitely better than anything you could order from a catalog.
Just when I was ready to start begging, his hand left my wetness. He tugged my panties off and he hitched my leg up over his hip.
I heard the jingle of his belt buckle and felt him slip his jeans down a little, while he fumbled in his wallet
for a condom.
It was crazy. Pure crazy, I thought from somewhere within the sensual spell Dex had cast over me. I didn’t do things like this. I never hooked up with random guys, never brought guys home whom I hadn’t dated for at least a month, and I never went to bed with a guy on the first date.
But all those little rules of conduct had nothing to do with what was between Dex and me right at that moment. It was beyond reason, beyond rules. It was a purely carnal, spontaneous thing. Which is what made it so perfect.
When Dex got the condom on, he wasted no more time.
“Hold on to me, baby.” He grasped my backside in his large hands and, hooking my other leg over his hip, slid inside me in one long, smooth stroke.
If his fingers drove me to the edge of insanity, his cock pushed me right over the edge. He rotated his hips and did sort of a slow swivel-thrust thing that had me panting and gritting my teeth, wanting more.
But he kept his slow, teasing rhythm, sliding almost all the way out before thrusting inside once more in a long, slow glide. He put his mouth on my neck. He kissed me, nipped lightly, then traced the nibble with his tongue.
I grasped his shoulders, nails digging in. His big hands cradled my backside, squeezing and stroking and bringing me up to meet each of his deliberate thrusts.
The tension coiling within me was unbearable. I was hot and wet everywhere, it seemed, and every nerve was on edge. Waiting, wanting. He brought me closer and closer to the edge with his maddening slowness. But I wanted him wild. I wanted him to slam into me harder and harder until I exploded.
I pitched forward and threw my arms around his neck, taking control of the kiss. I bit at his neck and pressed hot, hard kisses there. I nipped at his ear, tugged at his hair. Finally I pushed him beyond his control.
He thrust forward hard and slammed me against the wall. His rhythm increased as he pounded unto me harder, driving deeper. He grunted with the effort, low in his throat.
“Yes,” I breathed, my eyes closed. “Yes. Harder.”
He complied and drove into me mercilessly. The stone scraped at my flesh but the slight burning sensation only added to the frenzy and before long, the tension had gathered into one big knot. My breath hitched and then everything burst in waves of pleasure so hard and strong that I forgot to breathe.
I felt him stiffen then groan long and low as he came, too. His breath was ragged in my ear and I gripped his damp hair as the last quivers of pleasure racked my body.
When the shudders subsided, he pulled his head back, and even though it was dark, I could hear the smile in his passion-husky voice.
“You’re the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”
I grinned. “So are you.”
He pulled out of me, taking all the delicious fullness with him and released my legs.
My toga fell back into place, covering my wet sex, and I tugged my top back into place. I didn’t know where my panties were.
Dex took care of the condom and tugged his jeans back up just before a beam of light illuminated us.
“Evenin’, folks.” The officer squatted in front of the light Dex had kicked out. He plucked a piece of glass out of the lawn and held it up I front of the flashlight’s piercing beam.
“You know what happened here?”
“Uh…”
“Kids,” I said quickly. “I saw some kids up here a while ago. I shot Dex a look. I could tell he was uncomfortable with the fib, but he didn’t argue.
The guard grunted and got to his feet. “Kids,” he said. “Get a look at any of them?”
I shook my head. “Not really. I think one of them was wearing a Vandy hat, though.” Vanderbilt University was just on the other side of West End Avenue and I was sure, at one time or another, some student had gotten drunk and kicked out the floodlights. Maybe for the same reason Dex had.
“The park closes in a few minutes, folks. You’ll have to get going.”
I nodded. “Of course. Thanks, officer. Um, good luck finding those hooligans.”
Dex walked me back to my car, holding my hand and carrying my bag. Somehow, that innocent touch was more intimate than sex and it made me uncomfortable. Now that the rush of gotta-have-it now lust has passed, it was a little awkward. I couldn’t help but wonder what he must think of me. Did he think I did this everyday? That I was a slut? And more disturbingly, why did I care what he thought?
I unlocked my beat-up Toyota and he leaned against me, pressing me into the cold metal for a long, deep, slow kiss. The urgency was gone, but desire still simmered just below the surface. I knew that if I let it go on, he’d be suggesting we to go to his place or mine. This was uncomfortable enough. I couldn’t imagine what a morning after would be like. Mortifying.
I pulled back and pressed both hands to his chest, trying to give myself a little distance. He leaned back.
“I have to go,” I said, not quite meeting his eye. “I…have an early appointment.” The only appointment I had was with a huge cup of coffee and the morning paper, but what was one more fib?
“Oh. Okay.” He seemed surprised but recovered quickly.
I opened the door to the car, and threw my bag inside before sliding into the driver’s seat.
He leaned down, resting his arm on the open door and gave me another hot kiss.
“Can I call you?” he asked with the smile that was sure to break hearts. And sell albums.
I started the car. “This has been great, Dex. Really great. But let’s just let it go at that, okay?”
I tugged the door and he stepped back.
“But –”
I couldn’t look him in the eye. He seemed so disappointed. But I was sure with his upcoming album release and all the groupies it would bring, he’d forget about me in no time. I could get back to concentrating on building a career and he could concentrate on – whatever he wanted.
“I really have to go.” I smiled brightly. “Take care. Good luck with the album.”
I pulled away before he could say anything else, but I couldn’t help but look in the rearview. He was standing where I’d left him, staring after me.
* * * *
That was almost two years ago. Before he was on the cover of every country music magazine in existence. Before the certified double-platinum debut album. Before the Playboy interview, the Rolling Stone cover, the CMA awards and the title of Sexiest Man Alive.
Everywhere I turned, there he was, smiling at me, and it brought back in vivid detail our night together.
From the tabloid photos that surfaced at least every other minute, he’d forgotten me. Whether he was hanging out after a concert or tearing it up at some Hollywood party, scantily-clad girls were the staple. He looked like he was having the time of his life and I was sure that one summer night in Nashville wasn’t even a blip on his radar.
I’d tried to forget, too. Tried to forget the casual way he’d brushed the hair from my face. The way he’d grinned at me with a light of mischief burning in his ocean blue eyes. The way his jeans hugged his tight ass and the tilt of his cowboy hat had sent my heart into an unnatural rhythm. The way he’d felt buried deep inside of me. The way he’d looked at me with tenderness and longing when I’d left him afterwards.
But I hadn’t forgotten. I couldn’t. He was a superstar now. And I was still catering parties for record execs who wouldn’t give me the time of day professionally and fending off the wandering hands of Willie the pub owner and a dozen others like him at every gig the band and I scored.
Dex was the star of all my naughty fantasies and I constantly wondered if I had done the right thing, leaving him behind without even giving him my name.
* * * *
The first time I met Dex Wilder I was wearing a toga and body glitter. The second time, it was handcuffs.
Chapter Two
Two Years Later
“I hate Dex Wilder.”
“No, you don’t,” Becca said, pouring the coffee. I took a sip, then peered back at the latest tabloid photos of h
im and another blond bimbo.
I didn’t argue. We both knew she was right. “Look. Her boobs practically have their own ZIP code.”
Becca peered across our tiny secondhand kitchen table and pulled the rag towards her. “Wow. Wonder what those cost?”
I snatched the tabloid back, balled it up and tossed it in the general direction of the garbage can. “It’s disgusting.”
“You’re just jealous. You could have been the tour bunny of the hottest, richest, most popular country star since Johnny Cash, and you wouldn’t even give the poor guy your phone number. Maybe it could have gone somewhere.”
“Yeah, like the back of his tour bus. Besides, I don’t want a boyfriend.”
“So what’s the problem?”
“The problem is, it’s just not fair.” I gestured to the tiny apartment just this side of shabby. “I mean, look at this place. I’m tired of playing to rednecks in shitty bars. Wondering if I’ll serve enough crab cakes to make rent every month. Sending out demo tapes to every label in Nashville and getting absolutely nowhere.”
I scooped the balled-up tabloid off the cracked linoleum. “And then there are people like Dex Wilder, who no sooner get to Nashville and sign a multimillion dollar record deal to sing songs about his boots or his dog or how much fun it is to party all the time. Uggh!” I re-balled the tabloid and threw it in the can this time. And slammed the lid.
It didn’t help that everywhere I looked, there he was. In the tabloids, magazine interviews, news shows, music videos, billboards and of course the radio. God, those DJs loved Dex Wilder. Every time they played him, what popped into my mind? Hot, steamy, finger-lickin’ good sex up against the wall of a public building. Which I hadn’t experienced again since that night. If I had it to do over, I wouldn’t change a thing. I just wished I could forget about him, the way he’d obviously forgotten about me.
I was determined to put Dex Wilder and the Bimbo of the Week out of my mind. I’d made the decision that night to make it a one-night stand and it was the right one. Dex was free to screw whomever he wanted.
Nashville Heat Page 2
