Ride All Night

by Michele De Winton

  “Well, this is a nice way to be woken up.” The dark rumble of Grim’s voice was deeper, a just-woken-up growl, but it nonetheless stole its way under Beth’s skin and stroked every part of her body. She froze. Her muscles, her veins, her very skin, tightened as if she were out on the desert plains ready to run Grim down and devour him, rather than . . . oh wait, that was the plan. Wasn’t it?

  Taking a deep breath, she forced herself to unclench her muscles. Then, not letting her mind overthink the lust-fiesta her body was running with, Beth ran her hand down from Grim’s chest to his bicep and then put her teeth to his shoulder, nipping it quickly. “Why don’t you just go with it and see what happens?” she murmured. “I think you’ll find that we’re going to be the perfect match.”

  A hand found her stomach and pulled her into an embrace with his hot, hard body. “I can do that,” he said.

  He pulled her on top of him, holding her firmly around the waist with broad hands and forcing her legs open with his thigh. Beth gasped, not quite ready for the reality of what was happening. The dirty dark corner of her mind she usually ignored didn’t care though and got out its pom-poms to cheer her on. She pushed up on him, her hands on his chest as she sat astride his hard, ready cock. The only thing separating them was her silk underwear.

  “Don’t like it on top?” he growled.

  Beth shook her head, then, looking down at the form she could only just make out, replied, “I like it well enough, I just didn’t realize you and I were going to fit so well so fast.” If she’d thought of that line alone in her bedroom she would have fist-pumped the air for her WWMWD triumph, but perched atop Grim, all she could do was grin into the darkness.

  “I think you’re right, little bird. I think we’re going to be the perfect match.” And with that, he snaked both hands up her sides, pausing to let his thumbs trail the underside of her silk-clad girls like he owned them already.

  “Well . . .” But Beth didn’t have the words to combat the shiver his warm hands had on her girls. Her nipples stood to attention immediately, hard pebbles under the silk and every circle his thumbs gave them only made them more determined to get closer to him.

  “I was almost asleep. Do you know that? I thought I was for a minute. Thought that I must be dreaming, because a delicious woman had crawled into my bed. Do you want to know what happened next in my dream?”

  Oh, god. Was this really going to happen? Beth bit her lip, hard, to stop herself from blurting out anything awkward or stupid. Did she want to know what happened next? Oh holy love scene, romantic movie lust fest, did she ever! “Uh-huh,” she managed.

  “I peeled off this slinky stuff you’ve practically poured over yourself, and I took my time tasting every last morsel of you.”

  “Really?” The word was out in breathless wonder before she could stop it but if he noticed the little-girl tone in her voice it didn’t bother him.

  “Oh, yes. And then I put my head between your legs and took a long, lingering lick. You were already wet and you begged me to put you out of your misery. Does that sound like something you’d do?”

  “I don’t know, maybe.”

  “Only maybe? Well, maybe we should find out.” He took her hands and moved them off his chest, pulled them toward his head ’til every part of her was pressed flat against him. Her body might have been screaming with lust, but Beth had to fight her mind hard to not push away and slow everything the hell down. This was what she needed to do, right? This was the plan.

  And then his lips touched hers, and bam, the rest of the world disappeared into a foggy mess of oblivion. Soft, heavenly soft, his lips nudged at hers and she found herself kissing Grim McKinley. Her stomach clenched as one hand roamed over her body, the other winding in her hair, pulling her head back just enough to be fierce rather than forceful. As his mouth demanded more and more of hers, Beth found herself wanting to know the full extent of what all the powerful muscle underneath her could do. What would it be like if the thick thigh muscles she felt under her own legs pressed her down as he buried himself inside her? Her stomach stopped clenching and went into full-steel lust mode. Just standing around him had always made her feel delicate and feminine, a tough order when her girls were the first thing to enter any room and her butt took a good couple of seconds to catch up after her. But under Grim’s hands, Beth felt just the right size.

  “God, you have glorious curves,” he said, as if reading her thoughts. “I want to hold onto them all night and make you ride me so hard you won’t be able to walk in the morning.” He thrust his groin up to meet hers and Beth found herself rocking against him in a steady rhythm. Every drop of blood seemed to have found its way between her thighs and all she wanted was for him to make good on his threat. “Yes, please,” she managed in little more than a whimper.

  “You don’t have to ask me twice.” He released her hair and pushed her back up so she straddled him before he spread his hands over the small of her back and waist. Pulling her over his hard length, he chuckled. “You, little bird, are all kinds of magnificent and I haven’t even gotten to see the half of you. Remind me to thank Grim for his birthday present.”

  Through the fog of lust, his words registered in the important bit of her brain that scanned for bullshit. “Remind me to thank Grim.” His hands were still pulling at her waist and she was still riding him, her body wishing her underwear would just melt out of the way already, but her mind was running down an underground tunnel looking for the light switch. Finally, it found one. “I’m sorry. Did you say it was your birthday?”

  “Indeed I did. And I think it’s about time we unwrapped my present, don’t you?” His hands started to pull down her panties but she put her hands on his.

  “And you need to thank Grim for . . . me?”

  “Unless someone else gift-wrapped you for me. Although those morons downstairs are more likely to try to get you into their beds than shuffle you upstairs to mine. I didn’t believe it when Grim booked me a room, but to add you like a cherry on top, maybe we’re getting along better than I thought.”

  “I did not shuffle upstairs.”

  That got him. He paused, his hard body a flat plane under hers and Beth struggled to get off him. “Hey, I’m sorry. I’m sure you didn’t shuffle. I’m sure you shimmied, or slunk, or, hell, I don’t know, where are you going? What’s there to be offended by in that?”

  If only he knew. But Beth wasn’t about to go into the deep dark recesses of her limping, shuffling past with a stranger who was . . . ohmygod . . . was he a stranger? “You’re not Grim? Grim McKinley?”

  His body tightened before he said, “’Fraid not, little bird.”

  Beth almost fell out of the bed in her haste to get out of it but when she was finally standing on the floor instead of rubbing herself all over a stranger like a filth magnet, she bit her lip to stop the sob spilling out. Oh, god. Looking around in the dim light she couldn’t see her clothes and couldn’t decide whether crawling about in front of him trying to find them or leaving without them was worse.

  “You don’t have to fly out of here, little bird.” His voice was full of mirth, like he was playing with her.

  Screw that. She stood up tall, no matter that he couldn’t see her, and said in her best Mae West tone, “I am not a little bird.” In the gloom, she saw her dress and scooped it up before sliding into her shoes.

  “So, I stand corrected. Either way. What’s the hurry? It’s not like Grim has a steady girl.” Suddenly the mirth dropped from his voice, and his tone dropped. “Or does he? Oh, shit.”

  “No, no. We’re not . . . I’m not . . .” That did it, she almost ran for the door, sliding her dress on as she went, but when she got her hand on the handle it didn’t budge. She tried it again. Nothing.

  “Change your mind?” The growl came from the bed.

  “No.” She rattled the doorknob. “I just can’t . . .” She yanked hard on the doorknob and then tried turning it again. Nothing.

  “Shit.” She kic
ked the door and heard the crack before she registered what it was. “Oh, nooooo.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  The sound that came from the woman who had only moments ago been writhing over his cock like a dream was pure desperation. Defeat. She was suffering and by the sounds of it on the brink of tears and Rusty McKinley didn’t do suffering. He was up out of bed before she had a chance to take another breath.

  “Hey, hey, let me help you.” He felt for the woman by the door.

  “I’m fine, will be fine, I just . . .”

  “I can’t see what’s going on. Hang on.” Rusty flicked on the light switch, revealing a glorious tumble of auburn curls and beneath it, a pale face twisted in embarrassment. He looked down and pulled a sheet off the bed to wrap around his naked body, his hard-on protesting all the while.

  “No. Wait. Oh, god. I did break my shoe.” And she dissolved into a mess of sobs. He looked down her legs and saw the heel hanging off one of the stilettos still on her foot. Bummer, but surely not something to cry about?

  Her face hidden under her hair, Rusty couldn’t tell whether it was just her broken shoe or embarrassment that had tipped his mystery woman over the edge, but while he waited, she managed to catch a breath for a moment. “Sorry. I just, oh, god. Why is the door locked?”

  He tried it and she was right. “Must be jammed.”

  She shrugged miserably.

  Rusty gave the door a tentative push with his shoulder but it was good quality, solid. If he gave it a bigger shove he’d probably rip the lock out or injure himself, neither of which seemed appealing. But he was still curious about the woman who had just crept into his bed. “Would you like me to get you a drink or something?”

  She dissolved into another round of tears and Rusty hissed his breath out through his teeth. Okay, so maybe not. He pulled on his thumb, feeling where he’d caught it earlier against the ragged edge of a bike exhaust. “I’ll call downstairs,” he tried when her crying faltered again.

  “Then everyone will hear about this and I’m done,” she said, finally turning her tear-streaked face up to him. Whoa. Although red-rimmed and puffy, the eyes that stared up at him were the brightest green he’d ever seen with blue flecks around their very edges. Perhaps it was the way they were framed by the curly shock of auburn hair, or that they were set in such pale skin, but her eyes caught up all of her fear, embarrassment, and terror and shone it up at him as if she were begging him to fix it.

  “It can’t really be that bad, can it?” he said. “Turn up in the wrong room. With the wrong guy. No biggie, little bird. Come on, sit down while I call downstairs.”

  Before she could protest, he took her hand and led her to the bed, relishing the feeling of her soft fingers in his hands. She limped over, one shoe on and one shoe off, with her hair a mess and her dress on, but somewhat sideways. He sat but she remained standing. Biting her lip, she swiped at a stray curl determined to stay in her face.

  “Rusty McKinley,” he said, holding out a hand. “At your service.”

  “Oh, god.” A little color had returned to her face and now a new flush of pink stole over her cheeks and neck. She dropped down onto the bed and kicked off her other shoe.

  “No, not God. Just Rusty. Although I am damn good with a wrench and people have called me the touch-up god before.”

  Finally, a smile twitched at her lips. The effect was in an instant both innocent and sexy and Rusty wanted nothing more than to make it happen again. “So, can I call downstairs for someone to let us out or do you want to fake an injury and we could stretcher you out of here?” He’d been going for humor but the joke fell flatter than his mom’s cakes. Her face dropped and the small wobble in her chin threatened tears again. “Oh, no, I didn’t mean . . . Don’t cry. I mean, fuckers downstairs can barely string a sentence together, they ain’t gonna judge.”

  “Shit,” she said and huffed out a huge breath. “Shit, shit, shit.” She reached down and moved her shoes together so that they were in line with each other. It seemed to calm her.

  In the pause that followed, Rusty wasn’t sure if he was supposed to laugh or pat the woman comfortingly on the back. In the end, he did neither. “Well. Can’t say I was expecting you this evening.”

  “No. I don’t suppose you were expecting any of it.” The woman sighed again, dramatically, and instead of rushing in with help as he usually did, Rusty let her take her time. “I’m sorry. I thought you were Grim.”

  “Shame. I’m much better in the sack than him.”

  This time the smile lingered longer and it changed her face again. Her cheekbones appeared proudly and a dimple in her left cheek hollowed out charmingly. With her mussed hair, the flush of pain and embarrassment still coloring her cheeks, and her eyes now finally holding the glimmer of humor, the woman was two-thirds bombshell and one-third goddess. “Shall we start over? I’m Rusty McKinley. Been out of town for a month or so getting some parts. I have the bike garage down the road.”

  “Beth Ravens. I’m an actress.”

  Rusty’s ears perked up. This was interesting. He cocked his head and looked at her with a more critical eye.

  “But I work in the bar here. Or at least I do at the moment, until, you know, or at least until I get another shot, which was supposed to happen already, so I thought at least getting the guy would be a start, you know, for my confidence and stuff, and then, well, I . . . shit.”

  “Sorry, you lost me there.”

  “You must think I’m an utter flake.” The smile left her eyes and instead there was only disappointment.

  “Hell, I don’t know you from a bar of soap. But the last thing I’d add in a sentence with Beth Ravens would be flake.”

  “Really?” She took a deep, shuddering breath. “Man, thanks. That’s the nicest thing anyone’s said to me today.”

  “You need to get better friends.”

  The sigh was huge again. “I know. That’s what all this was about.” She waved an arm around the room then blushed again.

  “You wanted to be friends with Grim?” He tried not to make his voice sound completely incredulous, but he could tell by the way she hardened her jaw that he’d failed. “Sorry. But he’s not exactly the making friends type, and . . .”

  “A bit more than friends, obviously. But either way jumping into bed with him was a stupid way to try and make it happen anyway,” she finished his sentence. Not exactly the way he would have phrased it but, heck, she wasn’t far off. She paused and he waited and watched. He’d had more tail than a herd of horses, so having a woman jump in his bed wasn’t that big of a deal. But having one think he was his brother, now that was new. The types of women they liked were night and day apart.

  The emotions washed over her face: embarrassment, righteousness, sorrow, a little touch of fear. Wow, but no wonder she was an actress. An idea started to form in his head as he watched her wring her hands and flash those insanely expressive eyes of hers at him.

  “I’m striking out, big time. And I needed Grim on my arm. Knowing that I’m not alone out there would just make me feel . . . better. And he’s just perfect.” She sighed and he winced. “He’s going places in the industry and if we got together I’d start being noticed as something more than tits and arse.”

  Rusty couldn’t help it, he snorted. “That’s one way of putting it.”

  She shrugged. “I knew this town was tough, but screw that. Screw giving up before I even got going. I’m going to make it.”

  “I don’t doubt that, little bird. You have more whomph than a tankful of gasoline. But you figured Grim was going to help you make it? You sure about that?”

  “Why not? It’s worked for plenty of other couples. Two birds, one stone: love of my life secured, tick, career boosted, tick tick. I don’t know if you’ve noticed but your brother is doing good. Devil Dares is selling out everywhere, amazing for such a low-budget independent film, and there’s talk about the script being nominated for an Oscar. If that happens and I walk down the red carpet wit
h Grim, guess whose name gets to the top of casting lists a whole lot faster? Being a girl from Australia who isn’t blond and whose bra size is, well, generous . . .” She took a deep breath. “Let’s just say it’s not all about talent in this town.” Beth shook her head. “I’m sorry, I’m totally oversharing. But hell, I can’t overshare much more with you, can I?”

  He should have called downstairs for someone to let her out and gotten her the hell out of there. He should have cut her off and called his brother to come and pick up the pieces. But Rusty didn’t move. Didn’t take his eyes off Beth Ravens. What are you doing? You trying to get ripped off again? His last relationship had taught him that women on a mission, women like Beth, were dangerous. Dangerous and expensive, and yet, the way Beth had been so open about her ambitions, about what she wanted, that was different from his ex. Different and refreshing. Really? Really. Beth wasn’t a biker for one thing, that much was clear. The girl was innocence personified. Well, almost.

  She shifted and looked down at her shoes sitting on the floor, the heel of one at an odd angle, and sucked in air through her teeth.

  “They expensive?”

  “The most expensive pair I own. They’re my audition shoes. Jesus, I’m so clumsy. How the hell am I going to rock stilettos on any red carpet if I can’t even make it out of a room?”

  “It was dark. You were in a rush.”

  “I was. Sorry. This is not usually my style. I had a whole speech ready but then Grim left and Briony told me he’d booked a room upstairs. Would have been nice if he’d put an I’ve-booked-the-room-for-my-brother-for-his-birthday sign on the door so I didn’t have to make such an idiot of myself.”