by Lisa Hughey
His body seized with almost frantic desperation. She was trying to shut him down. His entire endorphin system was going haywire, as if an EMP had wiped out every cogent thought except one. Get closer to her.
“I don’t want them.” If he didn’t get to touch her, he would expire on the spot. “I want you.”
“Eeep.” She gulped down the martini, her lips pursed against the glass rim, and Ric’s entire body froze, paralyzed with lust.
“I’m not bluffing.” The rough edge to his voice had her leaning back.
“Um.” Her painted fingernails pushed the almost empty martini glass between them as if she could create a barrier to protect herself. But she couldn’t protect herself from her own body’s reaction to the pheromone cocktail that was making him dizzy and drunk on her.
Ric’s heart thudded with an unrelenting sense of panic. He couldn’t stand it if she shut him out.
“Problem here?” The bartender interrupted.
Ric responded quickly, “No.”
“Not at all,” she replied politely and shot the bartender a bland, half smile before turning to address Ric. “You certainly are direct.”
“I’m old enough to know what I want and go after it.” Ric slid closer to her and yes! she didn’t back away. Her tongue came out and licked the sugar that dusted her mouth.
“My,” she said faintly.
She clearly wasn’t used to the honest approach or the fact that he considered her sexy. But damn, his body was on fire.
“Have dinner with me.” He curled his fingers over her free hand, the one resting on her bare knee. “Let’s get to know each other better.”
What he wanted to say was, Come back to my room with me. Let me feast on your curves and learn every erogenous zone on your delicious form. Let me worship your body and discover your secret places and subtle turn ons.
But as skittish as she was, if he confessed what he wanted to do to her, she’d rabbit. And in this monstrosity of a hotel, he’d never see her again.
“I have plans,” she said huskily.
“So do I.” He threaded his fingers through hers. Her hand was cool to the touch but a fire burned beneath her prim dress and her lowered lashes. She was thinking about it. “But I’d rather make new plans.”
He wanted to push harder. Being passive wasn’t in his nature. But instinctively Ric knew if he didn’t back off some he’d lose the opportunity. He hadn’t made O-6 pay grade because he’d been tentative or indecisive. He’d risen through the ranks of the Navy because he’d been a creative problem solver.
“I’m sure you could find an easier…dinner companion,” she demurred. Still trying to deny their attraction.
“I look at obstacles as opportunities.”
She laughed breathlessly. Her fingers tensed under his, as he carefully stroked his index finger over the back of her hand. And he prayed that she’d throw caution to the wind and agree to have dinner with him.
He was so close he could see the striations of green in her eyes along with her clear longing to leap. “No strings.”
She raised one perfectly groomed auburn eyebrow as if to say, really?
He kept up the honesty. “Didn’t say I don’t want there to be strings. Just that I won’t attach any to dinner.”
She traced the rim of her almost empty martini glass with one French-manicured nail. Her shoulders had hunched slightly and he knew she was getting ready to say no.
“Take a chance.” Ric urged. “Throw the dice. It’s Vegas.”
Acquiescence flowed over her body like a wave crashing on the shore of Coronado. “Where are we going to dinner?”
For some reason, Ric felt as if he’d already won the war. “Follow me.”
Two
Ric. The insanely hot man who’d just asked her to so much more than dinner lead her away from the bar, his fingers curled around hers loosely. She might be inexperienced but she wasn’t stupid.
Shelley tried not to shiver but her body was lit up like the neon flashing, frenetic lights of the Strip and she buzzed with adrenaline and the anticipation of doing something wicked. She was so far outside her comfort zone right now she might never find her way back to the settled land of easy and comfortable.
As he rubbed his thumb over the sensitive valley in her palm, Shelley wasn’t sure she cared.
Her heart beat in her chest, pounding out an uneven rhythm as she realized that for the first time in years she was doing something strictly for herself. His forearm, muscled and thick and dusted with dark hair, brushed against hers, causing a cascade of tingles through her entire body. From his forearm. As if he was having a similar response to her, he gripped her hand tighter, possibly worried she might run away.
Which was a fairly intuitive reaction, because with every other step she second-guessed her response. What was she doing? She was supposed to be meeting her kids and their significant others for dinner. Not running off with a stranger.
A stranger whose bicep strained the ribbed hem of his short sleeve white Polo shirt. The bright clean white emphasized his darkly tanned, smooth skin. The pique shirt clung to the pectorals and rippled abs beneath the simple cotton. His khaki pants cupped an interesting, mouth-watering bulge. His quads bunched and released beneath the innocuous pants as he strode purposefully toward a small steak house hidden in the corner of the giant lobby.
He wore the uniform of the casually rich, like so many of the men in her home town, but instead of a gym-toned body and slight paunch, he radiated power and a unconscious virility that had her weak in the knees.
Her insides tightened and her sex clenched as she thought about all that power and strength between her thighs. She pictured him above her, his strong jaw tight with determination as he invaded her body with long luxurious thrusts and a fierce sexuality.
She was crazy.
She was imagining sex with a stranger.
A stranger who evoked a pure intense sexual desire that she hadn’t felt in a very long time, if ever. She’d been an infant when Jackson Stone Sr. had swept her off her feet.
Now, she was a mature woman.
A mature horny woman who hadn’t had a man in a long damn time. And she wasn’t sure she’d ever had a man that was this much man. He exuded testosterone and radiated a sexual power that would be thrilling and overwhelming in the bedroom. That was still no reason to run away from her commitments and consider doing inappropriate things with a stranger.
Or imagine a man she just met naked and sweaty and rocking her world.
“We’d like a table in the back, if possible.” Ric smiled at the young hostess. His teeth were startlingly white in his swarthy face and emphasized his full, dark red lips. One smile and the girl scrambled to make him happy.
Shelley couldn’t stop the instinctive eye roll at the girl’s obvious reaction to his sensuality. She tried to ease away but he anticipated the move and pulled her closer. So close the heat of his body seeped into hers. Her entire body sizzled as if he exerted some sexual force field that caused the air to whoosh from her lungs and the atmosphere around them to snap and crackle with unfulfilled cravings.
Ric stared into her eyes. “You are so beautiful.”
“You’re in the land of beautiful.” She tried to deflect because really, telling her she was beautiful?—Of course the initial pleasure at a compliment was nice, but—let’s get real.
There were beautiful women everywhere in Vegas.
“It shines from inside you, in your bright eyes and the glow of your skin. And it’s all the more potent because you don’t seem to realize how attractive you are.”
With those words, she melted. Because even if it was a line, he’d delivered it with such sincerity that she was loathe to contradict him. She hadn’t been complimented like that since Connor when he was in third grade and he’d written a poem about her hair and eyes. Connor! The kids.
She was supposed to be going to dinner with them. Crap. “I need to let my…friends know I won’t be joining them
for dinner.”
“Ah, yeah.” He smiled deprecatingly. “Me too.”
He moved with an innate grace. He pulled her chair away from the table in an unconscious move that told her that he was no stranger to the chivalrous gesture. As she sank into the cushioned chair, Ric trailed his fingers across the back of her bared shoulders. What should have been an impersonal touch became a sensual caress as his slightly callused fingers scraped along her nerve endings and shimmered over her skin. Goose bumps peppered over her arms, arrowing from her shoulders down to her neglected sex. Everything tingled.
Shelley needed to focus and settle her family so that she could enjoy this dinner, date, whatever this was.
She sent a quick text to her daughter Jess. Going to bow out for dinner. See you tomorrow morning at the spa.
Her phone dinged. Jess: Everything okay?
All good. Enjoy your dinner. xo mom
Jess: U want me to chk on u?
No! Panic immobilized her, but she had to play it cool. Otherwise, Jess would be at her door and realize that she wasn’t in her room.
Shelley quickly texted back to her. All good. Just tired. Love u. mom Turning off my ringer for the nite. Have fun!
The hesitation that had gripped her earlier was gone. She wanted to be here. Wanted to spend time with this man. Hopefully the promise of him would live up to her expectations. She suddenly knew that she needed this night for herself.
Wanted him for herself.
“Everything okay?” His liquid dark eyes pierced her as if he could see inside her soul to the anticipation that fired her body.
“No problems.” She wasn’t about to confess that she was texting her adult daughter. This wasn’t about getting to know each other, about beginning a relationship, this was about mutual attraction. Mutual satisfaction. Distilled down to its elemental level, this night was about sex.
About him and her in a hot sweaty tangle of limbs and lips.
Bringing up the fact that her daughter was twenty-seven was a sure mood killer. He’d probably dated women younger than Jess.
That quickly, her confidence fizzled again. What was she doing?
“Hey. Where’d you go?”
Shelley pushed back her chair. “Nowhere.” She wasn’t about to share her mental journey into her sad, lonely history. Before she could stand, he grabbed her chair near her thigh and pulled it under the table. His bicep flexed as he easily moved her back into place.
“Don’t go.”
“I don’t know what I’m doing here,” she confessed.
“Having a drink.” He smiled, but there was an edge to the smile that caused her pulse to speed and her heart to thunder. “And dinner.”
“I don’t do this kind of thing.”
“Eat?” he inquired with amusement.
“Eat with strange men.”
“Hey. I’m hardly strange.” His dark eyes glimmered, full of sensual intent, in the flickering candlelight. That focused regard set her off balance again. “But let’s change it so that we aren’t strangers anymore.”
Getting to know each other? Once he knew her, he wouldn’t want her.
As if he could sense her jittery need to run, he squeezed her fingers and said softly, “I don’t do this either. Not anymore. At the risk of being too honest, at least not in the last five or six years.”
Conversely his honesty calmed her. She liked that he waited for her to process his revelation. So she stayed. Settled.
Get to know each other. She could do that. In Monterey, she was the Queen of Small Talk.
“What do you do?” Shelley asked.
He answered, easily, vaguely. “Security.”
He didn’t hold himself with a military bearing and she should know, since all three of her boys had served. Jack and Riley in the Navy and Con in the Army. He had a casual slouch that in no way diminished his power or intensity. She didn’t want to bring up the military.
“How about you?”
There was another conversational topic she wasn’t going to touch. Since she spent most of her time in Monterey volunteering, serving on philanthropic boards, and now farming, she tended to forget that she was an extremely wealthy woman.
She didn’t get out much, so being a target for a con man or scam artist was usually not a concern. Except since the article in the paper that highlighted her wealth, instead of the ground breaking philanthropic farm she owned, she’d been the focus of several stalkerish emails and internet proposals. Now she was in Las Vegas and Jack seemed to think she needed to be extra careful. He’d warned her before they arrived. Because of the crazies who’d come out of the woodwork after that article, Jack had been concerned for her safety.
“I’m a farmer.” Which was true. She had been an avid contributor to the Food for Life food bank for years. And recently she’d bought land and begun a program to work farmland, not for profit, but specifically to supply fresh produce to the local food bank. She was very proud of Happy Tummy Farm. But she didn’t want to get into the specifics.
“Ah.” Ric still held her fingers in his. He lifted her hand and turned it over so that her palm was open and exposed. Then he kissed the sensitive hollow with a brief press of his firm lips. “That would explain the calluses.”
Lightheadedness swamped her.
Good lord, he’d only kissed her palm.
An unexpected moan escaped as he kissed her palm again, his lips lingering. She closed her eyes in a swell of embarrassment so acute she wasn’t sure if she’d recover.
“Damn, I want to hear that again.” This time he kissed her palm and caressed her with a barely there lick of his tongue against the already sensitized skin.
“Oh my God.”
Shelley tried to tug her hand away and squeezed her thighs together as if she could hold in the rush of arousal creaming her exquisite black lace panties.
“Christos. I want to hear you moan like that in my ear.” He nipped at the heel of her hand and another zing of arousal traveled through her body like a wildfire through a drought-ridden canyon.
Another rush of arousal flooded her. As if an alien had overtaken her body, she placed her hand on his thigh, and beneath her palm his muscles flexed. She leaned over so that her mouth was right next to his ear. Food was forgotten. Getting to know him better was forgotten. All she wanted to was to be alone with him.
“Let’s go.” Her lips skimmed the whorl of his ear. Her cheek brushed his and though he had obviously shaved earlier, the slightest scruff of stubble scraped against her softer skin.
Common sense reared its head. She needed to be clear. “Only for tonight.”
“That works.” His hand over hers squeezed tight. He pulled back just enough that an inch separated their noses as he stared into her eyes. His black gaze was like liquid sin. “You sure?”
There it was again. Chivalry.
So she gave him the only answer that she could. “Yes.”
Three
Ric followed Shelley into the elevator, admiring her from the backside while the mirrored walls reflected her from all angles. The look on her face was soft, luminous. Her eyelids were heavy and a subtle glow shined her skin.
She had gorgeous lines to her body. She had curves. Not too curvy but enough that no matter where he grabbed he’d have a handful. Which meant she was built for sex.
Dammit. His body was on fucking fire. His erection pressed against the zipper of his rarely worn khakis. He leaned back against the rail and pulled her in front of him, knowing the security guys in the booth just got a great shot of him sporting wood.
Ric slid his hands around her hips and rested his palms on the slightly rounded curve of her belly. The touch was less than sexual but as she relaxed into his embrace, she eased back against his chest.
“Oh.” She let out the surprised puff of sound as his dick nestled into the cleft of her ass. He started to try to put space between their bodies but her palms skimmed over his forearms to rest over his hands and effectively held him in pl
ace.
Ric nuzzled the sweet spot behind her ear with his nose. “The first time is going to be hard and fast. Is that a problem for you?” He sure as hell hoped not because he wasn’t sure he could go slow until he took the edge off this insane lust.
“The first time,” she said faintly. But as if his words flipped a switch, she melted further into his embrace.
He ran his tongue down her neck, until he hit her collarbone and then he nipped the thin skin over the delicate frame.
The elevator dinged.
“My floor.” One more time he worried she was going to change her mind. Not that he couldn’t deal with the extreme hard on himself if need be but he was literally dying to sink into her hot, wet, sex and discover her feminine secrets.
“Thank God.” She grabbed his hand and tugged him out of the elevator.
Ric grabbed his key card and shoved the key in the slot, desperate to get inside his room and inside her.
The heavy door swung open and they stumbled in. A soft glow cast light on the side of the bed but the rest of the room was bathed in shadows.
“I need you.” As the door slammed shut, Ric shoved Shelley up against the wall and devoured her mouth. He might have felt badly about the rough treatment except she was yanking his Polo from the waist of his pants as he eased down the zipper of her dress.
Her hands were insistent and hot on the skin of his back as she rubbed against the fucking pipe in his pants.
Her shoulders were pressed against the wall but she’d canted her hips so that the ridge of her pubic bone massaged his erection. He shoved the dress off her shoulders, and it dropped to the carpet.
Ric nipped at her lips as he took in her glory. She was perfect. High pert breasts, a mostly flat stomach with a just a hint of curve, and nicely rounded hips. The see through lace of her bra revealed as much as it concealed, and her nipples speared the delicate fabric broadcasting her arousal.
She wore boy cut, lace panties that matched her bra and a pair of spike-heeled pumps that made her almost as tall as he was.
