Lightning

by Taryn Kincaid

  So. Not upstairs to fuck like monkeys then.

  She halted in surprise. And disappointment. “Where are you taking me?”

  “Let’s hope paradise.” He stroked her bare arm. “And not the emergency room.”

  She gasped, stunned. But Madame Eve would have tipped him off, of course, not wanting any nasty mishaps to befall either of her clients. Nevertheless, Lily’s deepest, darkest secret had been tossed out casually by some stranger, as if it were foreplay, part of his usual line of seduction. Unless…a mischievous inner voice teased her.

  A car pulled up to the courtyard entrance of the hotel—a sleek muscle car, by the powerful, controlled rumble of the engine—and came to a stop in front of them. A door popped open.

  “Sweet,” a younger voice—perhaps the valet—said. Car keys tinkled. “Haven’t seen a Camaro this cherry in a while.”

  A Camaro?

  Ohmygoddessohmygoddessohmygoddess.

  No wonder there was something so familiar about her date. The nagging inner voice chortled with delight. And horror. It couldn’t be. It had to be.

  Campbell Jones.

  The name screamed in her brain, so loudly all else was blotted out. She stumbled, nearly breaking a stiletto heel and twisting her ankle.

  “The same.”

  She hadn’t realized she’d said his name out loud.

  He steadied her with a firm hand at her back, opened the passenger door and guided her into the low-slung vehicle. Everything inside her froze then burst into hot and awesome bloom. The ozone crackled. Her heart raced. She couldn’t suck in enough air.

  Campbell Jones.

  The youth of her memory, man of her dreams. Whose sizzling kiss in the bar just then had already made her wet—and desperate for more of his touch.

  “Took you long enough to remember me, Lily flower. Long time, baby. Long, long time. And now it’s my turn.”

  He’d stunned her into silence.

  Campbell glanced at the gorgeous features of the woman who starred in his most lustful fantasies. Holy God, he wanted to devour her. Their kisses in the bar had given him a boner so big he’d barely been able to walk.

  Her curvy mouth gaped open and then shut. Half-formed words tumbled forth and disappeared into the charged atmosphere inside the sports car. The sports car where he’d taken her virginity—and she’d taken his consciousness.

  “I don’t know what to say.” The slight quaver in her voice reflected bewilderment. Perhaps regret?

  “Clearly. ‘Sorry’ might be a good place to start.”

  She remained silent a moment. “I’m not truly sorry. Until the last part…it was the best night of my life.”

  His, too. But he wasn’t quite ready to share. So much fucking water had flowed under that bridge. Floods of it, veritable tidal waves, a tsunami roiling with every emotion under the moon. Hurt. Betrayal. Bewilderment. Anger. Lust. Passion. Love.

  He wished he could see her eyes. But Madame Eve had insisted on the blindfold. At least for the first fuck, the 1NS e-mail had implied. Although not in such indelicate language. The French woman made a romantic lark of it. But what the hell. Tonight Camp was game for anything.

  When he’d walked into the bar of the Castillo Hudson, he’d almost had a seizure. Shock did not begin to cover it. More like a couple of stories of steel girders crashing into his head. He’d needed to exit, splash cold water on his face in the men’s room, and belt down a few fingers of Johnny Walker Blue elsewhere before he’d been prepared to approach the woman seated on the bar stool.

  Lily Night, wearing a slinky, backless cocktail dress. A sexy, sultry woman. No longer a girl. He hadn’t been able to see her face, but he’d known her. From her posture alone, from the adorable way she appeared to be giggling at her drink. From the creamy, flawless skin he caressed in his nocturnal fantasies as he jacked off like a teenager in his bed at night. From the cluster of gardenias adorning the silver river of hair that glowed fairer than moonlight as it tumbled over her shoulders in a loose braid.

  The recollection of placing a corsage of the same fragrant flowers on her wrist ten years earlier rushed at him like a runaway train, flattening him just as fast. Lily Night. His worst nightmare. His most precious dream.

  He didn’t know whether to curse Madame Evangeline or bless her.

  And when he’d smoothed his hand over Lily’s bare shoulder in the Castillo Hudson Hotel bar…sparks shot between them. Hot. Wild. Peeling back time. He was so fucking lost.

  And so fucking hard. Half-aroused even before he’d sucked in her delicious, decadent, night flower scent, glided his lips over her throat, and took erotic possession of her mouth, his cock jutted like a steel spike. Getting himself under control took a will of iron. He nearly groaned as he wrenched his thoughts out of the past, off his aching balls, and back to the present.

  “I’m sorry, Camp,” she said, her voice a mere whisper.

  Her apology could cover so many things. What happened on prom night ten years earlier, the summer that followed, the ten years after that. For all he knew, though, she was refusing to go through with their date.

  “I know it’s only a one-night stand but…not in the car.” She ran her hand across the dashboard, stroked the leathery bucket seat. “Not in this car. It is the same Camaro, isn’t it?”

  Bingo. She didn’t want him screwing her in the back seat. He nodded, before remembering she couldn’t see him. Memories of the last time they’d been together in this car burst over him.

  “Good guess.”

  “All things considered, I think I’d rather skip the reunion. How about you?”

  “Not really what I’d had in mind.” He twisted the key in the ignition and the car roared. It had been exactly what he’d had in mind, of course. But the moment he’d seen her in the bar, all his plans for the evening had exploded like a crude bomb in a Roadrunner cartoon. No hotel room, no matter how swank, for his night with this woman. He was determined their one night stand, brief as it might be, would have meaning. The trunk of the Camaro held most of what he’d needed; he’d made a pit stop in the hotel gift shop for the rest.

  “Where are we going, then?”

  He peeled out of the Castillo Hudson Hotel parking lot. “You’ll see.” Recalling the blindfold, he grinned. “Or maybe you won’t.” He patted her shoulder. “Depends on how things go between us.”

  His words were laden with innuendo. Had he imagined her soft sigh in response? Her expression seemed less brittle, more wistful than in the bar. He was sure he was not imagining that.

  He clamped a hand on her knee. Bare, no stockings. Just silken Lily. She offered a shivery gasp in response to the familiar intimacy, a whisper of sound, low, sultry, sexy. His hard-on nearly split his formal trousers. His fingers glided up her creamy leg, as if they had a will of their own, caressing her inner thigh and traveling upward until he wrung sighs and sounds of pure pleasure from her. He slipped a hand beneath the lace edge of her panties, to cup her mound.

  “You may want to pull over before we end up wrapped around a tree.” Her little half-moan made his cock jerk.

  “Changing your mind about the back seat?”

  “No, but…oh….” She drew in another shivery breath. “I can’t wait to get where we’re going.”

  “Ditto.”His voice was hoarse with desire. “Do you want me as much as I want you?”

  “More.”

  “Not possible.” He’d risk a coma or worse for this woman. Much more. The words went unsaid, but he knew they both thought them.

  A slight pause. “I’m an accident reconstruction engineer now.”As if that explained everything.

  “Perfect.” Considering their history, he would have laughed if he was not so awash in testosterone. But unabated lust raged through him at the moment.

  Her sultry perfume, the smell of desire, filled the sports car with erotic promise. The little rapturous noises she made when he stroked her affected him like an aphrodisiac. He couldn’t wait to thrust his ach
ing cock inside her.

  Before taking his hand away, he slid a finger into her, his thumb sliding lazily back and forth over the small nub of sensation at her core, already swollen. She gasped his name with another breathy little moan.

  His hand came away wet, drenched with her musky essence. He brought his fingers to his lips to taste her, his balls tightening painfully, his erection like granite, the head throbbing.“Still intense.” His voice grated harsh, husky, as if he had gravel in his throat. “Jesus. I could come without even being inside you.”

  She groaned in agreement. “Can’t you drive any faster?”

  “I’ve put a lot of work into this old baby. The speed will make your head spin, Ms. Accident Reconstruction Expert.” Camp pressed his foot to the metal and the vehicle shot forward. He found the turn-off, the Camaro sprinted across the lot and he slammed it into park.

  “I never expected to see you again.” Lily’s voice held a hint of uncertainty. She touched his arm as he reached across her to unlatch her seat belt.

  “You didn’t know I’d be your date?”

  “No. I didn’t even know if you were alive.”

  “You could have inquired, Lil.”

  “I know but…please don’t ask me to explain. It’s too complicated. Just know I’ve never stopped thinking about you. Never.”

  “Likewise, baby.” Without waiting for her response, he leaped out of the Camaro to retrieve the basket, blankets and other items he’d stashed in the trunk. Then he returned to her, helping her from the vehicle. Her stiletto heels immediately bit deep into the grass at the edge of the parking lot. He caught her before she could fall, hoisting her over a shoulder while juggling the other stuff.

  She stifled a giggle. “You aren’t a Chippendale dancer now by any chance are you?”

  “No.” His forearm supported her butt as he strode across the grass. “Architect. In fact, I’m developing this area. We’re about to demolish the existing structure.”

  “Where are we?” Her breath was a sweet tickle at his neck.

  “The football field of Henrik Hudson High School.”

  “Oh.” She stroked his back, caressing his shoulder through the evening jacket. “Perfect. Oh, Camp. Just absolutely perfect.” She twisted around to leave a slick, hot kiss on his jaw.

  “Glad you approve, my beauty.” He dumped the basket and blankets on the ground then set her carefully on her feet. Flipping her braid out from the knotted blindfold, he slipped the comb from her hair, loosening the long twist until waves of silver-fair silk showered her bare shoulders.

  “Been itching to do that.” He placed his hands on her hips and roved upward to her waist, tracing her curves. She was thin, maybe a tad too thin now, but softer, more womanly than the teenager he remembered, her shape fuller in all the right places. Her tits filled his hands and her waist flared into an ass so awesome, he wanted to bend her over and drive into her.

  She squirmed nearer and then hurled herself at him, flinging her arms around his neck with a laugh. “I’ve been itching to do that.”

  Her hands were everywhere at once, patting him, molding him, as if she could not quite believe he was real. Or, as if, as he’d done, she measured the changes wrought by time.

  “I love the idea of everyone swilling tepid punch and making meaningless small talk at the reunion while we’re out here….” Her voice trailed off.

  “Fucking under the stars?”

  “Yes. Exactly.”

  “Good. Because this is going to be one helluva one-night stand.”

  She tensed against him and disengaged herself. What had he said? Although, ten years down the line he didn’t really know what to expect from this woman. Where had she been? What had she done? What forces had shaped her in all that time? Who was she now?

  “One-night stand. Right.”

  “That’s what we signed up for, isn’t it? Why we’re here?”

  “Of course.”

  He sensed the merest whiff of disappointment edging her words and thought he understood her brief hesitation. They’d signed up for one-night stands with strangers…not with each other. He and Lily had so much…history. Would one night be enough? Would it be too much? Could they survive it with all their considerable baggage and walk away unscathed?

  Well, she could. The bitter taste of her desertion filled his mouth like bile. But he wanted another chance with her. One last chance. “Still game?” He held his breath. “Now that you know who I am?”

  She nodded and offered him a brilliant smile without a hint of the brief cloud that had darkened her expression a moment before. “Let the games begin.”

  Chapter Three

  Lily took off her shoes and twirled the strappy sandals over her fingers as Campbell readied their al fresco love bower.

  She heard a light rustle of material, and a plop, as if Campbell had removed his dinner jacket and dumped the garment on the grass. A whoosh, like an air mattress inflating, the muted whisper of blankets being spread, a rasp as he dug into the wicker basket, the sweet scent of chocolate and strawberries, the tinkle of glasses, the clink of a bottle.

  Just one night, and she was determined to make the most of it. Just one outrageous, beautiful, sex-filled night.

  Could they forget the past and enjoy each other? She wanted him desperately and hoped with everything in her that they could. But the fear of a repeat of their prom night lurked under the surface of her desire.

  “Champagne?” The deep rumble of his voice intoxicated her more than any bubbly possibly could.

  “Will it keep?”

  “Got it on dry ice.”

  “Not yet, then.”

  “Good.” He tugged her hand, lowering her down to the blanket. “Don’t want to wrestle with a cork when I could be wrestling with you.”

  She bounced on the springy air mattress. “This is better than room service.” Sprawling on her back, she stretched her hands over her head.

  “Condoms?”

  “Are you kidding?”

  Hearing a crinkly rustle, like the scrunch of aluminum wrap, she imagined him whipping out a long string of foil packets.

  She sighed. “Can’t I take off this freaking blindfold? I want to see you. I want to look into your eyes. It’s been such a long time. It’s not fair when you can see me. And I want to see the stars above our heads.”

  “Madame Eve’s orders. At least the first time.”

  Lily curled into his warmth. “About that….”

  “Yeah?” His response came quickly, maybe too quickly. As if he were afraid she’d changed her mind.

  She trusted that Madame Evangeline knew what she was doing. Since the moment Campbell had knotted the silk scarf over her eyes, the firing of Lily’s electrical synapses had seemed muted. Oh, the sparks were there. But manageable. Under control. Was it the blindfold? Perhaps. Or perhaps something else.

  “Hadn’t you better get to it, then?” She grinned up at him.

  “What, you’re just going to lie there and think of England?”

  “Hell, no. But since I’m the one wearing the blindfold, I think this one’s on you.”

  She loved that they’d so easily fallen back into the easy banter, the teasing camaraderie that had marked them as friends, as well as a romantic couple. Oh, how she’d missed him. Missed talking to him, sharing dreams and milestones, good fortune and bad, missed sobbing on his shoulder, his strong, comforting arms wrapped around her.

  Missed his kisses.

  It had been such a long ten years.

  And his kisses were even better now, if the way he’d utterly devastated her in the Castillo Hudson Hotel bar was anything to go by.

  What was he waiting for?

  “Um, Camp? I hear you breathing, so I know you’re still there.”

  He grumbled in frustration. “I’m studying your dress.”

  “You like it?”

  “Yeah, but I’d like it better off. I don’t see any zippers and I don’t want to tear it.”

 
“Well, I guess you’ll just have to use your imagination then, Architect.”

  He laughed. “Like that’s a challenge I might refuse.”

  He crouched down, his big masculine body radiating heat through his clothes, through the skimpy silk of her cocktail dress. Goddess! She couldn’t wait until they were naked, flesh to flesh. But there was something decadent and erotic as his hands whispered over silk, caressing the breasts and thighs beneath. She’d never felt more beautiful or alluring.

  There was nothing remotely gentle about the way he pressed his lips to hers, nothing coaxing or seductive. He ravaged her mouth, pure and simple, the mastery of his possession raw and carnal and utterly male. He thrust his tongue past her teeth and flattened it against hers, sweeping up to stroke the roof of her mouth and then darting away to curl around her tongue in an erotic tango. She nearly lost herself in him.

  He claimed her with a hunger and masculine strength that made her marvel.

  His lips, his tongue, his hot, wet, open-mouthed kisses rendered her completely nerveless, utterly without breath. Arousal spiraled through her, softened her, urged her to melt for him. This was the kiss of a man. A skilled and self-assured man, possessed of an inner confidence that made her pulse pound. Desire throbbed like a drumbeat in every cell of her body.

  He let her up for air.

  “Camp.” She wasn’t used to this. As a succubus, she was the partner who usually called the shots, the more sexually aggressive being of the twosome. Sometimes, even with a promiscuous incubus in her bed, they traded dominance and power.

  Whatever he was doing, she wanted more of it. Much, much more.

  He’d learned some new tricks. Some devastating, awesome, incredibly hot and sexy new tricks. Her panties were already drenched. And all he’d done was kiss her.

  “Full of surprises.” She smiled.

  “You don’t know the half of it, baby.”

  “Show me.” Hunger clipped her words.

  He kissed her again, so thoroughly she squirmed beneath him, undulating her hips on the air mattress, trying to bring the core of her need closer to the fierce, thick ridge of cock tenting his formal trousers. He shifted slightly, easing his erection away from her.