Wanting It All: A Naked Men Novel

by Christi Barth

  Knox smoothed the lapel of his pale blue sport coat. Moved across the red carpet that led from the front door of the W Hotel out to F Street.

  And almost lost an eye. A metal rod flew at his face. A quick dodge saved his eye. But from the corner of it he saw a woman lunging after the rod, straight into rush-hour traffic. Knox grabbed her waist. Used all his strength to change her trajectory from going heads-up with a row of black SUVs that screamed Secret Service detail and pulled her into his body instead.

  He noticed a bunch of things, right off the top. Her height—taller than average by at least a couple of inches. Tons of silky, golden hair that the wind splayed against his face. Not that he minded. Breasts, big and firm and delectable, that brushed the top of his arm. And her heft. No skin and bones fashionista. Not a gaunt and sleep-deprived political intern. No, she had actual muscles that he could feel fighting against him. This was one awesome armful of a woman.

  “My phone,” she wailed.

  Knox lifted her off the ground to make it easier to carry her off the curb and onto the hotel’s red carpet. “The phone’s replaceable. A new kidney, on the other hand, not so easy to come by.” He could tell the exact moment that she actually noticed the traffic. Because she froze. Confident she wouldn’t lunge into the street again until the light turned red, he set her down. Didn’t let go, though. It’d only be polite to keep her upright until the shock of almost being run over passed.

  Mystery hottie spun in his arms. Eyes the color of his favorite Darjeeling tea blinked rapidly. “You saved me.”

  “Well, it reflects badly on us locals when we let tourists get injured.”

  A golden brown eyebrow quirked upward. “What makes you think I’m a tourist?”

  If she had a tour bus seat attached to her ass it couldn’t be more obvious. “There’s a camera bag at your hip. You’re wearing an I HEART DC T-shirt, with an American flag in the heart. A local wouldn’t be caught dead in one of those even on the Fourth of July. Oh, and you almost blinded me with that stupid selfie stick.”

  “Well observed, Sherlock.” Her tone was genuinely impressed rather than sarcastic. So Knox kept going.

  “That’s not all I noticed.”

  She tossed her long hair back over her shoulders. “I doubt there’s anything left to notice about me.”

  “You smell like honeysuckle. You’re not shy.”

  Bright red lips parted on a gasp. “How can you possibly tell that?”

  “The loud T-shirt, for one.” Knox hoped his next observation wouldn’t scare her away. “More to the point, you haven’t eased back from me yet. In fact, you’ve put both your hands on my chest.”

  “Maybe I wanted to check out the muscles that hauled me away from near-death.”

  Knox liked this woman. Liked her take-what-I-want style. Her brashness. “Maybe we should start with exchanging names before you name my pecs.”

  “A stickler for rules, huh? I can work with that. Or around it.” Deliberately, she stepped out of his embrace. Held out her hand. “Madison Abbott.”

  “Knox Davies.” They shook. “Was I right? Are you a visitor to our nation’s capital?”

  “Yes and no.”

  The light turned red. Traffic ground to a halt. Knox nipped forward, retrieved her phone and the stupid stick it was attached to, and presented it with a flourish. “Looks like it survived unscathed.”

  “Thank you.” Madison collapsed the stick and dropped it and the phone into her purse. A bright yellow bag that also labeled her a tourist, as it looked big enough to hold a tent in case her hotel reservation fell through. “Come to think of it, I should’ve started off with that. Thanks for not making me spend my first night in town in the hospital.”

  “My pleasure.” He thought fast. Because he sure as hell wasn’t letting this one slip away. Knox pulled her out of the flow of pedestrians behind a big stone planter overflowing with trailing pink flowers. “You probably don’t want to spend your first night on the sidewalk either. How about I buy you a drink? I guarantee it’ll come with the best view in town.”

  “I notice you’re not guaranteeing a good time.”

  “Why state the obvious?”

  She gave him an up-and-down once-over. Took in the white pants, two-tone oxfords, and the mint-green pocket square that matched his shirt. “Snazzy duds don’t prove anything. You could have a personal shopper. Or raided your roommate’s closet.”

  Knox barely suppressed a shudder. Griff’s closet mostly held his Coast Guard uniforms. Riley’s was as boring and buttoned up as the NTSB windbreakers he wore everywhere. Josh’s was a flat out mess. And Logan’s was mostly empty, since he traveled the world six months out of seven. “I’d never borrow anything from my roommates. Trust me.”

  Pursing her plumply inviting lips, she said, “Still, it is my first night here. Kind of a big deal. I want it to be memorable. How do I know you’re the man for the job?”

  This wasn’t just flirting. It was a challenge, flung at his feet. And the days when Knox Davies backed down from a challenge were long gone. They’d ended during their ordeal in the Alps, ten years ago.

  Only way to handle a throw-down was to throw back something bigger and better. So he went with his gut. Slid his fingers through that mass of silky goodness and tilted her head. Everything lined up, Knox took her mouth. Not too hard. He didn’t want to scare her. Not too soft, either, because he still wanted to make an impression.

  This wasn’t a Nice to meet ya kiss. Her challenge forced him to skip right past that step. He dialed this kiss right up to You know you like this, so I’m giving it to you. A tease of the tongue along the crease of her lips. Just enough to make Madison want him inside of her.

  It did, too. Because she planted her hands on his back to pull him closer. Not a problem. Glad to know they were on the same page. Knox slid an arm around the waist that already felt familiar to him and gave a semi-forceful yank. Not hard enough to give his balls whiplash or anything. Just…passionate. This woman amped up his passion faster than he’d expected.

  With the June sun beating down, their skin—his hand on her neck—was already sticking together. Sticky. Sweaty. Just like they’d be if they were in bed, all over each other. Warm, soft curves pressed against him. A little hum of appreciation vibrated out of her throat. Her lips parted. Knox didn’t need to engage his genius IQ to figure out that was an invitation.

  He swooped in, his tongue licking around every inch of her sweetness. Madison gave back just as much. Tangling with him. Teasing him. Dancing a sultry dance with her tongue that gave him so damn many ideas about what she’d be like in bed that his dick went straight from zero to Let’s do this thing.

  One of her hands slid down to cup his ass. Gave it a little squeeze that told Knox she was every bit as turned on as he was. It’d be so easy to back her up a few more steps. Press her against the wall. Then he could lift her up and grind his hips in a slow circle that’d spiral them both into—

  A dog humped his shin. No mistaking that feeling. Knox opened his eyes to find some matted rug with eyes using him like a by-the-minute hooker. Its leash was attached to an older woman with a squint of disapproval aimed at him down her pug nose.

  “There’s a hotel right behind you,” she said pointedly.

  “Sorry, I’m not available to keep your dog entertained. I’ve already got my hands full.” That sent her off with a harrumph and a tug on the leash so hard that the dog yelped.

  Madison broke into a belly laugh. A full-blown, doubled-over, not-caring-who-saw guffaw. The contagious kind. So much so that Knox doubled over, too. They both wheezed to a stop once they couldn’t catch their breath.

  Knox slapped his serious face back on. Pointing at the retreating duo, he said, “She was clearly jealous.”

  “Of me or the dog?” Madison barely got the words out before bursting into more giggles. “Maybe I should ask what sort of reputation you’ve got in this town.”

  Uh, no. Knox treated women respectfully.
He didn’t talk about the women, any of them, who passed through his arms and his bedposts. Except to his roommates. The local press, however, liked to bring up Knox’s womanizing ways as often as possible. His reputation was something he tried to ignore. Tried to get women to ignore, more to the point.

  “It doesn’t matter,” Knox declared. “We’re starting with a fresh slate. We don’t know anything about each other besides our names. So let’s not muck it up with what other people think.”

  Damn it. He might as well have used a Scottish brogue and dressed up as Lady Macbeth. Talk about protesting too much. Probably put her way on edge about what he must be hiding. Knox was off his game. But he’d been in the hotel doing an interview. An interview supposedly highlighting his company. Which was the only reason he’d let his PR manager badger him into it.

  Instead, the relentless reporter had dogged him about dating more women in D.C. than all the players on the Redskins and Nats put together. Then the reporter went after his roommates, shoveling for more shit. The asswipe generally dug for gossip and innuendo and ignored the real facts and reason for the interview. It left a sour taste in Knox’s mouth.

  Madison straightened. “You’re wrong. I do know something about you.”

  Great. Was there a bus going by with his face on the side of it? “Yeah?”

  She thumbed gently along the bottom of his lip, probably wiping off lipstick she’d left behind. “You’re a phenomenal kisser.”

  The beautiful Amazon wasn’t just flirting. She might as well throw a lasso around his neck and hog-tie him. Subtle? Nope. Just his speed? Yep. Knox shrugged one shoulder with a smile that he knew damn well was one hundred percent smug. “Well, yeah. That much is pretty common knowledge.”

  “Then how about you buy me a drink and tell me something that isn’t common knowledge?”

  With one hand at the small of her back—and a finger’s-width away from slipping south enough to brush the curve of her luscious ass—Knox guided her into the lobby. “I’m an open book.”

  Madison snorted. “No male of the species fits that definition. You all are closed up tighter than a marmot den in winter.”

  “Seen many of those, have you?” Geez, what did she do for a living? Vet? Zookeeper?

  “Of course. They build them on exposed ridges, so…” Her voice trailed off onto an extended ohhhh that lasted until she ran out of breath.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I’ve never been anywhere so beautiful in my entire life.” Madison planted both sneakered feet, even though they were still in the flow of traffic between the door and check-in, and stared. Goggled. Her eyes all but bugged out of her head like in a cartoon. First her head swung up to take in the crystal chandeliers. Down to the intricate black-and-white design of the carpet. Over to the red patent leather of the sofa that stood out from the lineup of black chairs and zebra-striped ottomans.

  The W was historic and over-the-top, but Knox wouldn’t call it the most beautiful hotel ever. He preferred the Federalist grandeur of The Homestead resort right down the road in West Virginia. Or the knock-your-socks-off view from the thirty-eighth floor lobby of the Mandarin Oriental in Tokyo. The Palm Dubai with its three-story-tall blue Chihuly glass sculpture. He could stare for hours at the glass that curled like individual waves into a geyser of floating fire at the top.

  With the tip of one finger, he gently shut her jaw. “Madison, people are staring.”

  “Of course they are.” Her head snapped to the side again, whipping her long blond hair into a halo effect that mesmerized Knox with its golden sheen. God, he wanted to feel that draped across his naked chest. “This place is amazing.”

  “No, Madison. I mean they’re staring at you.” This time when he pushed on her back she actually moved her feet. It didn’t stop her from peeking over her shoulder no less than four times before they hit the elevator. “I don’t usually lead with the obvious, but I’ve gotta ask—where are you from?”

  The doors slid shut. Those tawny eyes slid sideways, as if trying to pre-gauge his reaction. She looked over at the two guys—in cheap suits and crazy hair that labeled them as part of the flock of D.C. summer interns—giving her a slack-jawed once-over. Yeah, Madison was at least five years too old and five hundred percent too much woman for them. Which yet again landed her at the top of Knox’s must-do list.

  Then Madison squared her shoulders. Lifted her chin. “I’m from the great state of Alaska. The Alaskan Bush, to be precise. Remote. Isolated. As far from civilization as you can get.”

  Well, that explained a lot.

  It also intrigued him. Knox kept two maps on his phone at all times—world and U.S. He liked to shade in home states and countries of every hookup. The total stood at nineteen countries (despite the fact Riley insisted he should count England and Scotland for just one, as the United Kingdom; Ry was such a damn stickler). And he needed only four states to complete the U.S. stats. Alaska was one of those missing four.

  Knox elbowed back her giant bag to intertwine their fingers. He’d learned layering verbal and physical foreplay got women into bed quicker. Increased the attraction on both sides. Like a package that wrapped up Wi-Fi, phone, and cable. The more that got offered, the more that got taken.

  “You didn’t just hike out of the bush yesterday, right? You’ve been in a city before?”

  That netted him an eye roll. “Of course. I did my undergrad at the University of Alaska in Fairbanks.”

  “Nobody says undergrad unless they’ve got an advanced degree, too.” That bumped up his interest still another notch.

  Knox appreciated all women. He had yet to find a single one, no matter her age or relative standing on the hotness scale, who didn’t have something remarkable going for her. A laugh smokier than twenty-year-old whiskey. Eyes that sparkled like the Chesapeake Bay in the morning. A sense of humor, or a great pair of legs, or the ability to bake a killer sweet roll.

  But smart women? They hardened his dick twice as fast. Knox enjoyed the seduction. He wasn’t big on letting women stick around after the main event. Smarties, though, were another story. A woman whose eyes didn’t glaze over when he described his job didn’t just get pancakes the morning after—she earned a rare-for-him second date.

  As the doors opened, Madison gave him a hip bump. “Well, aren’t you just Sherlock Holmes–ing this whole date?”

  “I recognize fellow sufferers from the trenches of grad school. We share the traumatized wince at the mention of college that says we still haven’t caught up from the all-nighters.”

  Knox knew exactly when she registered the view. This time she didn’t stop and gawk. But her knees bobbled and her breath caught. To her credit, it didn’t just happen to tourists. The balcony on the eleventh-floor bar of the W Hotel opened up practically on top of the White House. Front and center speared the Washington Monument, a third guest at every table.

  “I’m definitely going to need the drink you promised me. My mouth’s gone dry,” she murmured.

  “I can fix that without waiting for a drink.” Knox never, ever passed up an opportunity as obvious as this one. He bracketed her chin with his thumb and forefinger. Tilted her head up. Covered her mouth in a kiss that surprised even him with its passion. It must’ve been that talk about graduate degrees that got his engine revving hot. Or the enthusiasm she matched him with, stepping in even closer and gripping his forearm.

  “Hey!” The exclamation broke him out of the lip-lock as much as the tug on the short hairs at the back of his neck. His friend Annabeth frowned at him. Tightened her already severe black ponytail. Then she shot a thumb toward the elevator. “There are three hundred and seventeen rooms and suites spread over these eleven floors. Go take your sexifying into one of them.”

  Madison didn’t appear the least bit embarrassed by the interruption. She wiped at the smear of lipstick on her chin while she aimed an amused look at Annabeth. “You know, you’re the second person to tell us that in the last ten minutes.”


  Nice, the way Madison rolled with the punches. And Knox always enjoyed watching someone stand up to Annabeth. The waitress was tough. A smart-ass. Which was why he and his friends adored her. Annabeth didn’t just serve them drinks. She dished out gossip on who was newly available, offered advice on what women wanted, and laughed at their dirty jokes. They didn’t come for the drinks, or the view. They came to hang with Annabeth. And out of respect for that friendship, none of the five of them had ever hit on her. Which happened to be one of the hardest things Knox had ever done…or not done.

  “Maybe the universe is sending you two a message,” Annabeth snarked with a sneer curling her upper lip. But she gave Madison an assessing up-and-down, obviously impressed by the other woman’s spine.

  Knox usually let Annabeth hassle him. Actually, he didn’t usually bring women here at all. Too obvious. Too touristy. Plus, he didn’t like taking his hookups to any of the spots that mattered to the ACSs. Already, things with Madison were off the rails. Weirdly enough, he didn’t mind. So he shut down Annabeth’s sure-to-be-endless nitpicking with a gentle tweak of the apron strings at her waist.

  “If I follow through on that so-called message, you don’t get a tip. This is Madison’s first night in D.C. I planned to order her the good stuff—the expensive stuff—in celebration.”

  “In that case, I’m Annabeth and I’ll be your server tonight. Please follow me to your table.” She gave a flounce as she spun on her high black heels. But she apparently couldn’t resist a parting shot. As Annabeth led them through the crowded room to the balcony and a table right on the edge, she said, “Pervert.”

  No point denying it. “You know you love me for it.”

  “That’s not it at all. I’m endlessly entertained by the notion that women fall for your Casanova shtick.”

  In a stage whisper, Knox said, “In case you weren’t clear, I’m on a date. Right now.”

  Madison fluttered her hand between them. “It doesn’t bother me. Technically, I haven’t fallen for your shtick. I fell for the obvious and impressive muscles you used to keep me on the sidewalk. The kick-ass way you kiss. Plus, the sheer amount of words you spit out per sentence.”