Box of 1Night Stands: 21 Sizzling Nights

by Anthology

  Her hair was jammed up in some sort of elaborate design, and she wore a ton of makeup. In a few seconds, he summed up one of her problems immediately—she was a gorgeous woman who didn’t know it. She seemed uncomfortable in her flashy clothes, makeup, and heels. He bet she’d be ready to flee within minutes if he didn’t walk over and close the deal.

  He waited one beat. Two.

  She lifted her head.

  A strange longing rose up and caught him in a chokehold. Her eyes widened as they locked with his. The anxious worry he glimpsed deep in their depths caused a protectiveness to surge from within. His second thought centered on what she would look like when he thrust deep inside her and brought her to orgasm.

  He hardened instantly. Son of a bitch. It was going to end up being an interesting night after all.

  He held her stare for a moment longer. Then strode over to the table.

  Tara stirred her cotton candy drink for the fifth time and glanced at her watch. He was late. He wasn’t coming. Sheer relief surged through her. Thank God she could escape to her room. Yes, a one-night stand sounded like a wonderful idea when she’d discovered Madame Eve’s service. But sitting in a trendy Vegas bar, waiting for a man she intended to sleep with, completely freaked her out. She didn’t do things like that. Hell, she couldn’t remember the last time she had on heels and makeup, let alone knew how to flirt or go to bed with a man. She’d tried though. No reason to blame herself. In moments, she’d rip off the hellish clothes and be in her comfy PJs under the covers. Alone.

  She reached over to grab her purse then did one last sweep of the room.

  A man towered in the entrance with an authoritative power that shot tingles down her spine. Like a deer caught in the headlights, she sensed a predator and stilled. Please don’t let this be my date.

  He met her gaze head on.

  Oh, God.

  He looked like Thor.

  Her eyes widened. He easily stood over six feet, with massive shoulders and muscled arms that seemed able to rip a tree out of the ground. Thick white-blond hair tumbled over his brow, a little long and shaggy around the edges. His face was a contradiction of hard and soft with a strong jaw, slashing cheekbones, and full lips. Black pants and a silk button down shirt only accented his power. Energy shimmered around him and pumped up the room. There probably wasn’t a female within miles who didn’t bend to his unconscious male will. The group by the bar halted their conversation to stare.

  Her heart stopped—then pounded against her chest in something close to a panic attack. It was him. Why did he look so different in his picture? There was no way she’d spend a night with him. He’d tear her apart.

  She reached down and gripped the edge of the table. Breathe. She’d talk to him for a few minutes, explain she changed her mind, and walk away. Who cared if he was literally sex-on-a-stick? No way would she sleep with someone more attractive than her. With her fat ass and scars, she needed someone to ease her into the experience, someone with gentleness and compassion. Not Thor, who’d burn up her panties in seconds and have her running in terror for the door. Her ex had ruined her for normal sex. She’d be lucky to get through the experience without flinching, and no way did she want to embarrass herself with this man.

  He walked over.

  She cleared her throat and forced herself to appear calm.

  “Tara Denton?” His question was more of a command.

  She had no spit left when she opened her mouth to answer, and managed only a squeak. “Yes.”

  “Good. I’m Rick Steele.” His green-gold eyes gentled as he pulled back a stool and took a seat. “Don’t you like your drink? I’d be happy to get you another.”

  She looked down at her barely touched concoction and shook her head. “This is fine, thank you.” She took a large sip and swallowed, as if proving her point. The sweetness was a bit cloying on her tongue, but the vodka burned hot down her throat. Since she rarely drank, she fought a cough, determined to act cool. The slight curl of his lip told her she’d failed.

  He signaled the waiter over and ordered a beer. She forced her gaze upward, away from the large fingers inches from her own. Fingers that looked talented. Her cheeks heated at the sudden image of his hands gripping her hips as he thrust inside of her. She took a deep breath and discreetly wiped her damp palms on her skirt. “Well, Mr. Steele—”

  “Rick.” Another quirk of amusement curved his lip. “I think we should at least be on a first name basis, don’t you?”

  His drawl reminded her of smoke, sex, and sweat. She folded and refolded the cocktail napkin so she didn’t pick her fingers and ruin her new manicure. “Oh, yes, of course. Well, I just wanted to let you know it will be perfectly acceptable if you’d like to cancel. I’m not sure if you saw my photo or read my requirements, but I understand if you decide to leave after our drinks.”

  He took a long pull of his beer, then pushed away from the table and studied her with interest. “You don’t like me?”

  She sputtered with embarrassment. “God, no! I mean, you seem fine. You’re attractive, and I’m sure you’re experienced. But this is new to me. I just don’t think I’m the type you expected for this, for a….”

  “One-night stand?”

  “Yes, that’s right.” She nodded again and cleared her throat. “Please don’t feel bad. I appreciate you meeting me.”

  One brow shot up. “That’s quite polite of you. But unnecessary.” A wolfish grin transformed his face. A rush of sexual heat squeezed through her blood and settled between her thighs in an ache. “You see, I’m just counting the minutes until I get you into bed.”

  The breath whooshed out of her lungs. She blinked in confusion. Had she heard him correctly? No, he seemed to be staring at her with an open sort of...hunger. Nerves and arousal mingled and fought for dominance. She took another gulp of her drink then looked him squarely in the eye. “Why?”

  He laughed. The sound drifted across her ears in a caress, and her tummy dipped. She squirmed on the narrow seat. What’s happening to me? Her body revved like a race car ready to shoot from the starting gate. She’d specifically requested a gentle, unassuming man who could slowly introduce her again to the art of lovemaking. How long had it been since she’d desired a man? Most of the time she needed to force herself out of the physical deep freeze with her vibrator. With her ex, sex followed a beating, so she’d learned not to anticipate it. Men usually caused a fear within her that drained away any lingering passion.

  But not Rick Steele.

  Hell, he’d probably command her body and soul if he got the chance. His dominant personality leaked from his every pore. Why on earth would this type of man ever be attracted to me?

  She waited with curiosity for his response.

  “I think the question is more like why wouldn’t I? You have a figure to die for, and in a matter of two minutes, you’ve made me laugh. Let’s just say I’m dying to find out how many shades of blue your eyes will turn when I thrust between your thighs.”

  Hot color flooded her face. She shook her head and steeled herself to face the truth. Maybe Madame Eve hadn’t told him. Damn it, she’d thought the man meeting her would know a bit about her past and what he’d walked into. She gritted her teeth and lifted her chin in pride. “I’m sorry, but you must not have heard. I don’t…I don’t have a good body. Something happened to me and I have several deep scars that are quite…well, ugly. The man I met tonight was supposed to know that.”

  His tawny eyes turned ice cold and his voice lashed like a whip across tender flesh. “I know about your scars. I will not allow you to call them ugly again in my presence. Scars are the evidence of survival and life. Now, I’d suggest we continue this conversation in my suite.”

  He dropped a few bills on the table, stood and offered his hand.

  Seconds ticked by. She swallowed around the lump in her throat. Her gut screamed in warning. The moment she touched him, she’d lose all control over the date, and be led down a path Frost would ter
m ‘the road less traveled.’

  She placed her hand in his and allowed him to lead her out.

  Chapter Two

  The door clicked shut behind them.

  Rick stepped back and let her gain her bearings. Jackson had set him up with the luxury suite for agreeing to meet Tara, and the opulence stunned most newcomers. He watched with amusement as she tried not to let her eyes pop out of her head. Her gaze swept over the rich burgundy carpeting, expensive watercolors, and 14-carat gold trim on the walls. The living area showcased a series of plush cream sofas with plump pillows, a large wet bar, and a private balcony that overlooked the entire skyline of Vegas. The tables were burnished mahogany and held endless vases of exotic blooms, their scent curling into the air in sensual abandon. Through the hallway, the bedroom beckoned. The oversized king bed, covered with a spread of rich silvers and gold, sat so high he’d need to lift her up. The image of her stretched naked on it teased him mercilessly. He imagined milky skin and gorgeous strawberry blonde hair fanned out on the pillow, her aqua blue eyes begging him to take her.

  His opinion of Madame Eve took a positive turn. Bored for months by an endless parade of women, Tara intrigued him within minutes of speaking. She was a mixture of prickle and heat, both shy and direct. Her discomfort about her body challenged him to change her mind.

  He never backed down from a challenge.

  Even now, her teeth reached for her lower lip and nibbled with worry. She picked at the edge of her nail with a rhythm that warned him she thought of running and desperately searched for a polite way to disappear. He tamped down a chuckle and made his way to the bar. “White wine?” he asked. “Pinot?”

  When she nodded gratefully, he uncorked a fresh bottle and poured a glass. Her spike heels sank into the plush carpet as she took in the view from the balcony. Thousands of bright lights twinkled and flashed across the night sky, resembling exotic stars. But, the view of Vegas was nothing compared to his view of her ass.

  The lush curves made his fingers itch to touch and stroke, to sink his teeth into the sensitive flesh and take a bite. His cock hardened and he battled for control. He brought her the glass of wine and hid a grin when she grabbed it gratefully.

  She took a sip and then a deep breath. He waited.

  “What do we do now?”

  Damn, she’s cute. He loved her natural fluster and how she barreled right through her own barriers. The woman had great courage, especially if her past was accurate. He lowered his voice to a sexy murmur. “What do you want to do?”

  She stepped back and caught herself. “Umm, well, I guess we get undressed, right? Would you mind dimming the lights? Or do you just want me to wait under the covers for you?”

  She wasn’t joking. Anger took hold and shook him deeply, but he didn’t reveal the emotion on his face. What asshole taught her sex was dirty? Or that she wasn’t worth any more than a quick screw in the dark? Madame Eve’s report told him of her scars, and her self-consciousness, but not how she’d received them. Had another man beat her?

  He’d fucking kill him.

  “Stay here a minute.” He turned on his heel and marched into the bedroom. Yanking open the closet, he took out one of his white shirts then returned to the living room.

  “Honey, can I ask you to do a few things for me?” He gentled his voice to put her at ease. After a moment, she nodded. “I’d like you to put this shirt on, take your hair down and remove all your makeup.” He reached out and caressed her cheek. “Please.”

  She stared at the fabric. “Why?”

  He smiled at her confusion. “Because I want to see your face and I want you to be comfortable.”

  He waited patiently while she digested his request. “Now?” she asked.

  “Yes.”

  She walked to the bathroom. In a matter of minutes, she came out and stood in front of him. “Better?”

  His heart stopped.

  Gorgeous.

  Heavy waves of strawberry blonde strands fell over her shoulders and tumbled in abandon. Her skin glowed, freshly scrubbed of all makeup, and showed off a generous smattering of freckles across her nose. Her skin was creamy white and smooth. He resisted the urge to taste her with his tongue and see if her flavor was as sweet. Her plump lips were a pale pink. But her body....

  His shirt swallowed her up, and he caught the barest shadow of nipples poking at the fabric. The hem fell past her knees, and showed off muscled calves and pretty cotton candy painted toes.

  “Oh, yeah, much better,” he growled. “Turn around?”

  Her face reddened, but she turned slowly in a circle to please him. Her natural manner to give struck him. She obviously liked to bestow pleasure, and probably had that gift exploited to such an extent it frightened her. As she pivoted, the line of her purple panties showed through the shirt, the full cheeks of her ass begging for his fingers. She wasn’t ready yet. He needed to relax her first.

  “Do you know how beautiful you are?”

  Disbelief shimmered in her eyes. “Thank you, but—”

  He closed the distance between them. She gasped as he grabbed her hand and laid it on his straining erection. “This is what you do to me. From the moment I laid eyes on you I wanted you. By the end of the night, you’re going to believe it, sweetheart. Make no mistake.”

  She shook hard and power surged through him. He wanted to make her scream with delight, to cry his name as she orgasmed until she couldn’t remember the last time another man ever laid a hand on her. Possessiveness was not a natural part of him, but he didn’t fight the urge. Instead, he embraced the basic male tendency to hunt. Conquer. Claim.

  Her soft hand paused then gently stroked him. He groaned, and she looked up in surprise. Bolder, she squeezed around the fabric of his pants and followed the ridge from base to tip. He held perfectly still and allowed her to explore. She took a step closer, until the tips of her breasts pressed against his chest. He fisted his hands to keep from touching her. Her arms came up to hold his shoulders, her sweet breath rushing over his lips as she arched on her tiptoes.

  Then pressed her lips to his.

  The tentative kiss rocked his world. Her lips were soft and sweet. He allowed her to explore the line of his mouth, gaining confidence, until the tip of her tongue slowly pushed between the seam of his lips. With a low growl, he opened for her, desperately trying to hold back his instinct to throw her on the bed and dive between her legs. Her tongue swept in and swirled around his in a teasing battle.

  He slid his hands down, grabbed her lush rear, and lifted her against him. She made a little mewling noise, but he swallowed it and claimed her mouth the way he craved. He drank deep, drowning in her taste as the scent of strawberries and flowers swam in his head. Within seconds, she slumped against him and surrendered, letting him drink his fill as her fingers thrust into his hair and held his head still for her own demands. Slowly, he eased back and looked down at her face.

  Her lips were swollen and wet. Aqua eyes held a dazed sheen as she stared back at him. “Oh, my,” she whispered. “That was so...good.”

  He laughed at her open response. “Believe me now? I want to throw you on that bed and get you naked. Touch and taste every part of your body. Then make you come so hard the only thing you can scream is my name. Get it?”

  She nodded, unable to speak.

  “But I don’t want to scare you. You specifically requested a man who’s gentle and non-threatening. I have some dominant tendencies, but I would never hurt you. In fact, I’d like to tear apart the motherfucker who wrecked you for sex and caused you pain.”

  He watched her face carefully. There. A glimmer of arousal and need. She definitely had submissive tendencies, which he enjoyed in the bedroom. She responded to a commanding attitude but had been seriously scared off by that type of man. It was time to show her what she’d been missing with the right partner.

  And he had all night.

  “I have to ask you a question. It will help me if you tell the truth. Did your
last boyfriend cause your scars? Did he hurt you?”

  The muscles in her body tightened as if to ward off a blow. He watched her fingers curl into fists. Seconds ticked by, and she stuck her chin out in the air with sheer determination. “Yes. And because of him, I don’t think I’m going to be good at this.” Misery etched her face. “I want to. But he made me scared of....”

  He battled his instinct to find the gutless coward and make him pay. Instead, he forced back the rage and concentrated on her. “Thank you for telling me. And you are going to be good at this. I’m asking you to trust me. Let go of your control and let me take care of you. I want to show you everything you’ve been missing. The moment you tell me to stop, I swear to God I’ll take my hands off you. ‘Stop’ is the word when you panic, Tara. Okay?”

  She chewed on her lip. Indecision flickered over her face, but she seemed tempted. He waited with all the patience and calm in the world, knowing she had to trust her gut. “Yes.”

  Excitement shimmered in blue depths. Triumph surged through him. He took her hand and led her into the bedroom.

  She stopped before the huge bed and swallowed back her instinct to yell stop right then. Her senses swam with the overload of visual and physical indulgence. The luxurious suite closed around her with a pull to follow her baser urges. The huge mirror mounted on the ceiling both fascinated and terrified her. Her body hummed as his fingers intertwined with hers in a firm grip she couldn’t break. Sweat broke over her as she fought the memory of another time, when she had given her trust and found everything turned against her. But for some reason, she trusted him. There was a core of gentleness within his control that spoke to her and promised no pain. Since she had signed up for a one-night experience, she’d push herself to the limits. She needed healing, and maybe the man holding her hand would be the one to finally give it to her.