by Kim Karr
“I’m good,” he said. His languid eyes stared into the depths of mine.
The trembling made its way up my body and my fingers started shaking. But when I looked up at him and his hand covered mine, I felt it all over again—the electricity that passed between us. I batted my eyelashes even though I felt ridiculous. “Are you sure?”
He chuckled. “Yeah, I’m sure.”
My cheeks flamed because I was pretty sure he was laughing at my attempt to be a dream girl and I decided to drop that act before it even started. He could obviously see through it.
“Did you have fun tonight?”
“What’s not fun about naive college freshmen?” He laughed. “What about you?” he asked, low and slow, with a huskiness to his voice that made my nipples harden.
“I’ve had more fun,” I answered, reaching inside myself to find a flirtiness that I never knew I had.
He raised an eyebrow. “Oh yeah? Do tell.”
He caught me off guard. I wasn’t expecting him to ask me that. I sucked in a breath and reeled for what to say. My eyes darted around the room and landed on a poster on the wall that read LA CÔTE D’AZUR and I made something up quickly about the place that I knew would turn any guy on. Of course, it was something I had never actually done.
I summoned all my courage and said, “I spent my freshman year in France, and the French Riviera had so many nude beaches that were always fun.” I made sure to say it in a sultry seductive tone. And technically what I told him wasn’t a lie. I was sure they were fun.
His eyes may have been unfocused, but he straightened his stance and stared at me.
I moved even closer, trying to remember how to breathe.
His mouth quirked and he asked, “When you went to the beach did you do the American thing and wear your bathing suit?”
Something came over me and I became someone else entirely. I wasn’t someone made up, but rather someone that knew what she wanted, and suddenly any apprehension or nervousness I had slipped away. I leaned in and whispered, “No, I didn’t even bring one to France.” My voice sounded saucy.
His eyes widened and I couldn’t believe what I had just said. But I wanted him. I wanted him as I’d never wanted anyone else before. I felt different with him and I liked who I was. I was pretty sure he liked it too because when I glanced down at his jeans, there was no mistaking he was turned on. Needing to keep his attention, I bit my lip and averted my gaze, trying to summon the confidence to seduce him. I took a deep breath.
“Everyone was completely nude. There were a lot of beady-eyed older men conspicuously peering over the top of their newspaper.”
“And you?” he asked.
“I stripped it all off,” I answered confidently.
He swallowed. “You weren’t alone, I hope.”
Shoot, who was I with? “No. My friend brought me. She was obsessed with staring at naked men.” What?
“Were there more men or women?”
“Oh, many more women.” I had no idea.
The more detail I described, the more his gaze shifted from my eyes to my body. When I noticed he was interested, that he was paying attention, I became S’belle. I let my inner vixen reign and continued to paint the picture—making it as hot as I could.
Suddenly he cleared his throat. “Excuse me, I forgot I have something I have to do.” He turned and walked away without even glancing back.
I couldn’t let him go, so I followed him. He went into one of the downstairs suites, but no one answered when I knocked, so I turned the knob. It was unlocked. He wasn’t in there, but a light from a corner room told me where he was. I heard the water running and knocked again. I didn’t hear any protest, so I walked in and there he was, leaning over the sink, looking at me in the mirror. I quickly closed the door behind me and locked it. I was his dream girl and I wasn’t going to give him a chance to ask me to leave. I summoned all my inner strength and went for it, tugging my skirt down and standing before him in my black lace panties. The way he looked at me gave me all the strength I needed to proceed. I had never stood in front of a guy with the confidence I felt with him that day. It was because of the way he looked at me.
His lips parted and he watched me with a reckless abandon that made me yearn for him. I slowly unbuttoned my low-cut blouse that was already partially undone anyway. When I finished with the buttons, I glided my palms down my stomach. I was so nervous that when I slid my fingers in the waistband of my panties, I scratched myself. But the way he watched me in the mirror made excitement surge through me.
“They aren’t pink, but will they do?” I asked, finding that same flirty voice I had used earlier.
He turned around to face me but said nothing. I didn’t move. His eyes locked on mine and he licked his lips as though he was hungry for me. I took my shirt completely off and then quickly removed my bra. I still wasn’t sure if he was going to stay. I thought maybe his girlfriend would win out in the internal battle he seemed to be waging within himself.
But once I twirled around slowly and said, “This is how I looked on the French Riviera,” I knew he wanted me as much as I wanted him.
His eyes held me in his stare.
My heart pounded from the heat I saw in his gaze. He strode across the room and caught me by surprise when he stopped short. He stood in front of me and drank me in but didn’t move. I looked up at him, but at the want I saw in his eyes, I was done waiting. I tugged on the waistband of his pants and pulled him toward me. His soapy scent smelled fresh and clean and I breathed it in—knowing I’d never forget it.
In a flash he grabbed the back of my neck and found my mouth. His tongue licked my lips. I opened my mouth, allowing him entrance. His lips were warm and soft. My stomach fluttered from the contact. The tingling between my legs became almost painful as electricity surged through my entire body. I kissed him back with the same urgency he kissed me with. The kiss felt different from anything I had ever experienced before; he felt different. He kissed me with a need no one had ever shown me before and I knew then that what we were doing couldn’t be wrong.
What I didn’t know was that one kiss would change the rest of my life.
Both of us breathless, he pulled back and just stared at me for the longest time. Then finally he touched me. His fingers brushed the lace of my panties. He moved them back and forth, up and down—it was slow, it was torturous. When he slipped his hand inside them, my blood rushed through my veins to that very spot and I was sure he could feel it.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” he breathed against my neck, his fingers right where I wanted them.
My pulse pounded and this time I was certain he could hear it. “Yes,” I answered without hesitation.
His small featherlike touches made me gasp.
“Take them off,” he ordered.
His tone, his demanding demeanor, made a thrill erupt inside me. I felt as if my blood were boiling. No one had ever spoken to me like that. He crossed his arms and leaned against the counter to watch me. My pulse raced as I slowly pushed the fabric down my hips and over my thighs, letting it fall to the floor.
“Come over here,” he commanded.
I was far too excited as I stepped out of my panties. My breasts had already swelled and I could feel the arousal between my legs. I did as he said. I thought I might do anything he asked. His tone was so deep and sultry that it oozed sex appeal. He swooped me up and set me on the counter. There I sat, naked, before him and I used the same force he had used just a few moments earlier and pulled his head to mine to kiss him. He returned the kiss, his hands sliding down my chest. The heat of his touch erased any doubts I had that he might leave. My nipples pebbled at his touch and when he bent down and sucked on one I thought I might explode.
I had my heels on and ran the toe of my shoe up his thigh.
“Take those off,” he told me, his voice sounding raspy.
I quickly kicked them to the floor and this time ran my bare foot back up the same path, curling
my toes around his hard cock. He groaned and I wanted to hear that sound again. My hands flew to where my foot had just been and I traced his erection with my fingernails, eliciting another groan from him.
Then he stood back and toed his sneakers off. He stripped out of the rest of his clothing before his eyes cut to mine. His lids were partially hooded, but I could still see the deep blue. God, his eyes were gorgeous. God, was he gorgeous!
He lowered his head. “You sure you want to do this?” This time his tone was soft, sweet, unlike the way it had been up until now.
There was no doubt I wanted this. I nodded and reached my hand back down to stroke his throbbing cock.
“Say it,” he said with the force back in his voice.
I bit my lip. “I want you.”
“You want me what?”
“I want you to fuck me,” I breathed.
When the words left my mouth, there was no question who I was. I wasn’t the dream girl I had been told to be—no, I was the real me and I wanted him, all of him. Everything he had to give I wanted to take. The hunger inside me was nearly unbearable. Thank God it didn’t take long before he was inside me. He made love to me as no one ever had. I became his dream girl at some point during the night because I wanted to give him everything he didn’t even know he wanted. I wanted to do things to him I had only heard about.
The things we did would become a memory that stayed with me for a very long time. When he took me it wasn’t with an urgency to just fulfill his own need. It wasn’t fast and quick like with other guys I had been with. Rather, it was a night filled with passion, lust, with our deepest, darkest desires being met. It was a dream, a fantasy—one I wanted to live out over and over for a very long time. He must have fallen asleep around five a.m., but I didn’t want to close my eyes. I watched him, thinking how perfect he seemed. He was a mix of good and bad, salty and sweet, all of which left me wanting more. I wanted to be his dream girl—always.
But he belonged to someone else and who was I to take him from her? The sudden realization shattered me. I knew I should leave before morning came, to make this easier for both of us. So while he slept, I gathered my things. Before leaving, I picked up his shirt and breathed in the scent and stared at Ben for the longest time. I’d remember him like that forever—all long and lean, suntanned skin, mess of blond hair covering those eyes that were bluer than any ocean. I covered him with his shirt, the one with the frayed edges. When I looked down at him one last time, I couldn’t help thinking it looked the way I felt.
Walking backward toward the door, I stumbled over his sweatshirt on the floor. I couldn’t resist it. I wanted to keep a small piece of him, so I slipped it on. He stirred, mumbling, “S’belle” as he slept, but he never woke. I crept out of the room, thinking to myself my name was Bell, not S’belle. My Paris high was still strong and even though I had told a few people my name was S’belle because I thought it sounded sexier, I knew he would be the last. I wanted him to own it.
• • •
“Red? Did you hear me?” he asks, pulling me back to the here and now.
He calls me Red because I flat-out told him when I saw him this past summer to never call me S’belle again. That’s not what I wanted at all, but it was for the best. I draw in a shaky breath before I can find my voice. “I know the way back. Follow me.”
In the dark corridor he takes my hand in his. An innocent gesture, gallant even—guide a woman through a dark hallway. But to me, there’s more to it. Don’t read too much into it, I remind myself. I squash the emotions entering my brain that can only lead to false hope. But when he squeezes our laced fingers, my stomach immediately starts to flutter. Sex, I tell myself. That’s all this could ever be. That’s all it ever was. And besides, there is too much baggage between us for there to be anything else.
“You know this hotel is not only rumored to be haunted but has a monumental place in movie history,” he says so matter-of-factly that I’m wondering if maybe the attraction I thought was mutual isn’t.
“No, I didn’t know that. What do you mean?” I try to mask my anxious breathing the farther into the darkness we step.
“The hotel was used to film the prom scene in Pretty in Pink. A boxing ring was set up in one of the ballrooms for Rocky III. The Ghostbusters movie used the Music Room to catch Slimer. Eddie Murphy—”
I interrupt his list of credits, thinking maybe he might be a little nervous after all. “Oh, my brother Xander loved Ghostbusters. I used to watch it with him and his girlfriend all the time when we were younger.”
We enter into the stainless steel food prep area, where I had seen him earlier tonight. Suddenly a noise, sounding like a loud whisper, echoes through the room and I jump at the same time a scream escapes me. “Oh my God, this place really is haunted.” My heart thumps at the thought.
It’s kind of hard to make out in the dim lighting, but I know I catch sight of a smirk on Ben’s face.
“Hey, it’s okay. It’s not ghosts, I promise. It’s probably just the mice.”
I shriek this time. “Where are they? I hate rodents.”
He presses me against the cool stainless steel wall before murmuring in my ear, “They live in the walls. They can’t hurt you. And even if they could, I’m here.”
I’m not sure if he means the ghosts or the mice, but honestly, I don’t care about either with the warmth of his body pressed so close to mine. Even in my heels I have to tilt my head to see his face. “I’m not a damsel in distress, you know.”
He slides his tongue along his lip before answering me. “Maybe you could be,” he whispers.
Lust, want, and need for this man purge themselves from every single one of my pores. I swallow hard, then lean in and breathe him in. It’s the same scent I remember from so long ago—nothing more, just soap. Fresh and clean.
“Did you just smell me?” he asks.
“I did,” I purr.
“Fuck.”
And with his curse his lips crash to mine. His mouth is soft and warm; his tongue is slick and wet. It’s a heady combination, but this kiss is anything but sweet. It’s frantic, dark, deliriously delicious. Sweet—definitely not. Ben draws me closer and I can feel his hardness against my belly. The thought that I can do this to him so quickly enables me to be bolder. My fingers move to his shirt and I pull it out of his pants. “I thought you were here to save me,” I manage between frantic kisses after deciding to be that damsel in distress after all.
Before I can even undo the first button, his hands encircle my wrists and lift them over my head. “I am,” he says, obviously spurred on by this little charade. He holds my wrists with one hand, and the other effortlessly unzips my dress and it puddles at my feet. He’s good. A lot of practice, I think.
He breaks our kiss and leans back, not letting go of my hands. He hisses in a breath through his teeth in a way that tells me he likes what he sees. I take a second to look around at our surroundings.
“What if someone walks through here?” I’m standing in my black strapless bra and hose before him.
“No one is around this late at night. And besides, remember, I’m here to protect you?” His voice is more of a rasp. “God, you’re so fucking sexy.”
I look at him. Lips parted. Eyes hooded. And a grin that pierces every nerve in my body. “Take your shirt off,” I tell him.
His grin grows wicked. But he doesn’t do as I instructed. Instead he glides a hand down the side of my body. His touch leaves an ever-burning flame in its wake. His mouth finds my neck to sprinkle hot, wet kisses up to my ear. “I’ll take my shirt off but because I want it off,” he growls.
He lets go of my wrists and they fall to my side. I can feel my body tremble as I watch him slowly unbutton his shirt. I can’t help remembering the bad boy that rocked my world that one night. My heart pounds louder and faster with every passing second. As the consequences of our night together fade from my mind, I let the joy of this moment consume me. Why? Because in all the years since hi
m, in all the boyfriends I’ve had, no one has ever made my body tingle with anticipation like him. No one has ever made me feel the way he did.
“Do you feel safer now?” He’s got a cocky grin as his shirt falls to the floor and he unbuckles his belt but doesn’t undo his pants.
I’m completely absorbed in following the lines of his body. From his biceps, where his muscles flex every time his arms move, to his perfectly defined smooth chest. A six-pack worthy of tracing, with my tongue or my finger. His pants hang low and I can’t help staring at the muscles that connect his hipbones or at the thin line of fine hair that trails down and disappears into the waistband of his pants.
“See something you like?” he asks.
His devilishly handsome features have already shifted into a knowing grin when I raise my eyes to him. I swallow, suddenly feeling shy.
His fingers caress my face. “You sure about this?”
I bite my lower lip and nod, once again unable to speak.
His expression grows dark and within seconds I lose sight of those blue eyes that I could look into for hours. He bends to kiss the exposed skin of my chest while his hands go to my thighs. My nipples tighten beneath the lace of my bra as his mouth skates over my breasts and my core aches when his fingers dance in between my thighs.
I mirror the position of his fingers and slowly pull his zipper down. As soon as I do his dress trousers slide even farther down his hips. His hands quickly slide up the silk of my hose, and his palms come to rest between my legs. “Fuck, you’re drenched,” he pants.
I throw my head back and find my courage to talk dirty. I can do it. “I’m not wearing underwear and I started dripping the moment I saw you.”
His guttural groan echoes through the room and in a flash he rips the crotch of my stockings and tugs down his boxers. He pulls his wallet out and once the condom is in place his eyes darken. The tip of his cock presses against me in the very next moment, but then he scans the area and hesitates.
