by C. M. Owens
“You were running low. Long Island?” he asks, his voice layered with sex, velvet, and deep tones that all mingle together in delicious harmony.
Apparently he found out what I was drinking, and I resist the urge to grin. “You did some research first,” I say, feigning a heady dose of confidence while taking the glass.
No, it’s not safe to take a drink from a stranger, but I have no plans to drink it.
“Damn,” he says on a breath. “Where the hell is that accent from?”
Now that I have his attention, I turn around—mostly to make sure I’m right about who he is.
Oh shit.
I should have stayed facing the other way. He’s so much sexier up close.
Those dark eyes are actually a deep brown, and his inky black hair is slowly drying, but it looks just as sexy. And that mouth…I could have fantasies for years about a mouth like that.
Those full lips are etched in a knowing smirk, and he radiates confidence and cockiness, riding a fine line between the two. If I wasn’t already interested, I sure as hell would be right now.
“Small Town, Georgia,” I say with a grin, watching as he moves a little closer and thumbs my lower lip.
He’s not shy, and I really like that.
He doesn’t mask the hunger in his eyes, the dirty thoughts in his mind, or the fact he obviously wants me. This is going to be a good night.
“Why are you in Sterling Shore?” he asks, his eyes coming down to my lips as he starts moving his body to the music, keeping his hand on my face until it slides back into my light brown hair that is streaked with subtle touches of red.
We could do this—both of us pretend as though we give a damn about getting to know each other—but I’m not willing to risk actually liking him. Then again, he could end up having a personality that won’t allow me to even have a good time. It’s safer to keep it physical and only physical.
“Does it matter?” I ask, pushing closer to him as he tilts my head back, and I purposely bite my lip, hoping it’s as sexy as I think it is.
His free hand slides down my side, while his other remains fisted tightly in my hair, his grip just shy of painful. When he uses his hold to pull me closer, I hold my hand out that has the glass, and let my other dangle to my side, giving him full control.
Our fronts touch, and I fight really hard not to shiver against the instant heat that floods my body with tingles of anticipation.
“Not really. I’m just looking to know you for tonight. I’m not someone you want if you’re looking for more than that.”
And he knows exactly what I want to hear.
He controls our movements to the seductive music, his eyes still on me and not on the stage where burlesque dancers own the crowd.
His honesty is sexy, because it’s exactly what I’m looking for. I’m not looking for a night of false romance and sugar-coated lies. I want something fun, freeing, sinfully dirty, and extremely temporary.
“Turns out, I’m looking for a one-hit wonder,” I quip, keeping the banter up.
His grin is one of scandalous intent, and I push closer, enjoying the way his grip tightens on me.
“Just because it’s one night, that doesn’t mean I’m a ‘one-hit wonder,’ baby. I can promise it’ll be the best night you’ve had in Sterling Shore.”
I don’t burst his bubble by telling him that’s not hard to do since I’ve only been here for a day and a half. Or that his egomaniac line is sort of…not sexy. He seems very attached to his ego, after all.
“You seem to know exactly what I want to hear. I hope you can back up your words,” I tell him, daring him to make a move.
And he does. His head dips, and he takes my mouth in a kiss that has my damn knees trying to buckle, my heart racing, and everything inside of me tries to combust.
Okay, so now that ego makes sense.
My mouth opens, giving him access, and he doesn’t waste time.
His tongue is possessive, claiming me in a way that has me making sounds against my will. My free hand slides up his arm, feeling the muscles hidden beneath the thin fabric. His hand on my side slides down to my ass, and he tugs me harder against him.
When I feel the hard bulge in the front of his pants, I shudder. He tugs my hair harder, bending my head back so he can thoroughly explore my mouth with his expert tongue.
By the time he pulls back, my lips are swollen, my thoughts are scattered, I’m dizzy, and quite frankly, I’m a hot mess. I barely even notice him handing my still-full drink to a waitress, and then my hand is firmly pulled into his as he tugs me back against him.
“Are you all talk, or are you ready to get out of here?” he asks, his smug grin proving he’s damn proud of himself.
I’m sure I look like a starry-eyed fool right now, all because of a kiss. A. Kiss. It promises to be a good night if he fucks as well as he kisses.
“Lead the way,” I manage to say, even though the words are breathy and broken. Still a hot mess, people.
I felt so much more confident about this before that kiss.
Refusing to feel inferior or waver in my resolve, I get as close as I can while he holds my hand, moving us toward the exit.
“Hey, Mav,” a guy calls from the platform on his way down. “You leaving?”
I take in the girl hugged against his side, her tattoos streaking down her arms like colorful warnings. His arm is draped around her shoulders protectively, drawing her closer.
“Yeah,” the guy holding my hand—whose name is apparently Mav—says in response.
The other guy is not bad looking, but I wouldn’t have messed with the girl on his arm to get to him. Not to mention, this Mav—whatever kind of name that is—has had my attention for over an hour. He’s by far the most attractive guy in this club—in my opinion.
The other guy gives him a knowing smile and a wink, and the girl on his arm surprisingly doesn’t cast judgment on me with her eyes. Instead, she winks at me, grinning while tugging her man toward the dance floor.
I really like Sterling Shore.
“Dance with me, Corbin. Before I get too drunk and you have to carry me out.”
Corbin smiles down at her before waggling his eyebrows, and then he claps Mav on the shoulder while walking away. The girl gets close to my side before whispering, “Have fun.”
Have fun? That’s it? No snorts of disgust, disdainful eye-rolls, or even a snarky comment?
Sterling Shore is officially my happy place.
Mav starts pulling me with him again, and he puts his hand on the small of my back as we make it outside. People have started lining up, proving I was smart to come before the late crowd.
I’d have to flash a bouncer to get in without waiting all night in that line. And despite the fact I’ve mentioned it twice, I actually hate doing that.
Mav wraps his arm around my shoulders, nodding and speaking to a few people as we pass through.
A couple of whistles follow our departure, but he doesn’t acknowledge them.
“My place is just down the road. You’re not one of those girls who steals wallets, are you? Because I lock my shit in a safe.”
He grins, letting me know he’s possibly joking.
“I make my own money, Mav. But feel free to lock your stuff up. I only want you for your body.”
His grin grows, and I smile back at him, airing on the safe, sexy talk instead of delving into personal facts to put him at ease.
No, no. I don’t do this all the time. But occasionally, a girl needs a wild, reckless, possibly dangerous night.
Especially me.
And I really deserve it.
Suddenly we’re stopping. “You got a car here? It’ll be safe to leave it if you aren’t up to following me. My cousin owns the place. He keeps heavy security, and he doesn’t mind overnight parking, as long as he knows about it.”
I frown at the sporty BMW in front of us. Not because it isn’t frigging gorgeous. I’ve never been a BMW person, but right now, I’m actually
a little in awe.
But I don’t want to ride with someone who has been drinking.
“I didn’t drive. You’ve been drinking. Can’t we take a cab?”
He smiles over at me as he clicks the button and unlocks the door. “I’ve only had one beer. I was a little busy watching you. I swear I’m sober.”
That’s not good enough for me. I don’t trust him enough to believe the one-beer tale. I’ve heard that before.
Yes, I realize it’s dangerous to go home with a stranger, and it’s hypocritical to focus so intently on the drinking and driving issue. But putting my life at risk is better than putting others at risk who don’t have a say.
“I’ve changed my mind; I’d rather just go home, and I’ll take a cab to get there.”
I turn around, but the fast footsteps behind me almost startle me. “Hey, whoa! If driving is a deal-breaker, I’ll grab a cab. There’s always a line of them around the side. They know fare is easy here.”
I breathe out in relief, and he reaches down and strokes my cheek with his thumb. “Come on,” he says sweetly, that cocky grin back on his face.
I go without resistance, letting him lead me around the parking lot to where there really is a line of cabs. He slides his hand over the bare skin of my back, and like an unpracticed idiot, I shiver against him.
“You sure you want to do this?” he asks, already proving to me I’m acting like a novice to this situation.
I’m not expertly rehearsed, but I’m not blushing innocence either.
I’m sure that much is glaringly obvious by now.
Right now, I’m a girl without a halo of rumors over her head. The girl who can finally live up to her semi-deserved reputation without the fear of small town scandal.
“If you’re not into it—”
“Oh, I’m into it,” he says, spinning me suddenly and forcing me to walk backwards as his lips move to mine. My hands immediately go to the back of his head, my fingers threading through the unnaturally soft strands of his hair.
He breaks the kiss before I’m done, and opens the door to a cab for me. “After you.”
I hop in, feeling excitement and nervousness unfurl in my body.
He rattles off an address, and he tugs me over to him until I’m straddling his lap. Just before my lips find his, he says, “There are definitely perks to taking a cab.”
I grin lightly, but that smile disappears the second he captures my lips in a scorching kiss that has me forgetting how to breathe. I grind against him, happy to have him under me, and I kiss him without reservation or concern for the cabdriver.
Poor cabby. Unless he’s getting into the show. Then ewwww.
When Mav’s hands slip through the sides of my slinky shirt, I resist the urge to stop him. I’m used to taking things slower, but that’s not what tonight is.
I suck in a sharp breath when he touches my breasts, kneading them in his hands as a low growl vibrates in his throat and chest. His hands feel firm and possessive, just like his lips, and I buck against him when he shows me just how good he is at finding all the right things to do.
“Your name would be nice,” he says against my lips, tugging my hair back when I try to resume the kiss.
I can picture him pulling my hair for other reasons.
“Salem,” I tell him, smiling when his eyebrows go up in confusion. Before he can ask, I add, “My mother named me without a real good reason.”
It’s not like he has room to talk; his name is weirder than mine.
He laughs while letting me resume the kiss, and the cab slows to a stop. The driver never makes a sound, but Mav removes his mouth from mine to pay the guy with cash, telling him to keep the change, before he opens the door and stands with me still wrapped around him.
I never see the house we enter, or pay attention to any of our surroundings. My eyes are closed tightly as I drink him in, kissing him with pure abandon. He holds me effortlessly, as though he could maintain this position for hours without strain. It’s just as hot as his ability to kiss me senseless.
Suddenly I’m being lowered, and his body comes with me until my back finds a soft surface. I open my eyes as he pulls back, and I immediately regret it when he pulls his shirt off. The room is dark, illuminated only by a thin shred of moonlight that is escaping between the gap in the drapes that are off to the side, but that’s all I need to see the body I wasn’t prepared for.
Ripples of muscles line his chest, arms, and abdomen. A cut V forms and disappears behind the low waistband of his jeans, and all of that is complemented by the stunning face and daredevil smirk.
“I want you to leave the shoes on, but everything else needs to go,” he says, watching me and waiting.
I’m supposed to just strip? Usually, a guy undresses me. Even one-nighters are ripping my clothes off. I suppose no-strings-sex with Mav means I undress myself.
Mentally slapping myself for my pointless inner thoughts that have me sitting here dumbly, I lift up enough to unclasp the top part of my shirt and toss it to the floor. His crooked smile kicks up, making him look even sexier, and I take in the few tattoos on his chest to keep from looking at his face while he stares at me.
There’s another tattoo on his shoulder, but all I can see of it is ling.
My attention is quickly drawn away from the ink when he says, “I want your shorts gone, too, baby.”
Shit.
His taunting grin only teases me when I look back up. With an exhaled breath, I stand up, and I start undoing my shorts while he watches me, his eyes regarding every movement with either amusement or fascination. Not sure which.
I’m glad it’s dark when I feel my cheeks heating from the blush creeping into them, and I push my shorts down, carefully pulling them over the shoes and tossing them aside. Standing in front of him in a pair of slinky red panties and black, high-heeled ankle boots, I feel a little…foolish?
“Damn,” he says softly, biting his bottom lip as his eyes hungrily rake over my body.
I fight really damn hard to keep standing here, letting him appraise me with a studious eye. I’m not usually self-conscious, but I’m also not one to be on display either.
Finally, he walks over to me, reducing the distance in just a few long strides. When he tips my head back, I happily surrender, letting his mouth claim mine in another kiss that goes into my archives of things to never forget.
“You in these shoes while being naked is going to be seared into my memory,” he says, grinning as he picks me up and drops me onto the bed.
His body covers mine as he starts working my panties down. Once they’re past my shoes, he leans back and looks me over one more time. It’s really hard not to cover up, simply because of how long he stares.
“Definitely a good image to keep,” he murmurs, more to himself than me—I think.
“Are you going to wear your jeans?” I ask, trying to sound flirty and not nervous.
Even though his grin is one of the most perfect features about him, I wish he’d stop showing it to me. His eyes dance with enticing hints of mischief as he stands up, and I watch as he undoes the top button.
The suspense is almost tangible, and I don’t hide my mouth falling open when he drops his underwear and jeans in unison, stepping out of them with an erection that proves life isn’t fair. One man shouldn’t be this physically amazing from head to toe.
Maybe he’s as dumb as a box of rocks to even things out?
It’s a damn good thing I’m limiting myself to a tryst instead of allowing myself to entertain the idea of more. He’s heartbreak wrapped in sex appeal.
Naked and so damn confident, he moves back over to me, sliding me up on his bed as he picks back up with that kiss. His lips will ruin me for all other kisses in the future. He has already set the bar too high.
His mouth moves to my neck, and some foreign sound escapes my lips as he works his way down to my breasts, drawing a nipple into his mouth. My body arches involuntarily, feeling the heat of his skin against m
ine, and those hard lines of muscle taunt me with every slide of his body.
When his finger finds a spot I wasn’t prepared for him to touch yet, I squeal in surprise.
Way to be sexy, Salem. Bravo. Encore. No, do not do an actual encore!
His throaty chuckle only makes me feel like a bigger idiot, and his lips move back up to meet mine softly.
“Last chance to back out. You seem more nervous by the minute,” he tells me.
Taking a deep breath, I shake my head. “No. No backing out. Do you have a condom?”
I hope so, because I forgot to buy any, and this can’t happen without one. My occasional one-nighters are usually stocked on their own, never needing my condoms anyway.
His teasing grin doesn’t amuse me. Is he silently making fun of me?
“I have all the condoms we could ever need, y’all.”
I roll my eyes. “You used that wrong, and your fake accent is just insulting.”
He laughs under his breath before reaching over to his nightstand, and I watch with rapt attention and a fierce heartbeat as he grabs the foil packet. My nerves gather in the pit of my stomach, making it tight as my whole body goes through a series of adrenaline-laced emotions.
It’s thrilling and terrifying in one breath.
Why am I so freaking weird right now? It’s the same as any other guy; he just happens to be a smidge hotter than the usual.
Definitely think that’s what’s throwing my game off.
He tears the pack open with his teeth, seeming too well rehearsed with that motion. And my eyes move down to that very…intimidating thing between his legs as he rolls the condom over it.
Licking my lips absently, I practically dissolve when those dark eyes find mine again, and he moves fast to take my lips, settling into the space between my legs and prodding my entrance ever so slightly.
Just as his tongue slicks into my mouth, he thrusts in, and I almost convulse right then. With hardly any foreplay, I’m more turned on than I’ve ever been, and it shows when I desperately start grabbing for him, raking my nails across his back, shoulders, and arms.
He growls as he thrusts in harder, angling my hips in a way that gives him depth, and I cry out, finding it impossible to catch a breath. Every thrust is harder and faster, and he leans up to his knees, looking down at me as he uses the bends of my knees as leverage, gripping them tight enough to leave behind bruises for tomorrow.
