When he only stares at me in that hot, angry, unblinking silence, I add, “I’d love to watch all this careful control of yours unravel.”
“You don’t even know my last name!”
“You don’t know mine either.”
“I could be abusive. I could be a psychopath!”
“We both know you’re not.”
“But I could be.”
“Just kiss me already. People are staring.”
“Let them fucking stare.”
“Don’t make me beg. This is embarrassing.”
His eyes glitter dangerously. His laugh is low and hard. “You’re not embarrassed in the least.”
“I was earlier. Now I’m just horny.”
His eyes soften, as does his voice. “Shay, seriously. What the hell are you doing?”
“Making myself happy. Putting my own needs first.”
“This isn’t about your needs. It’s about your ego. That dipshit Chet bruised it, and you want to use me to patch it up.”
“He didn’t bruise my ego. He broke my heart. And you have five seconds, starting now, to decide before I get up and walk away. One night, Cole. That’s all it is. One night and we’ll never see each other again. Let’s do this.”
His look changes to one of genuine confusion. Somehow, his mercurial mood swings make him even more appealing.
“You’re the most baffling woman I’ve ever met.”
“You should see my tits. Then you’ll really be impressed.”
A sound rumbles through his chest. It’s low and dangerous, like a wolf’s growl.
When his gaze drops to my lips, I know I’ve almost got him. I whisper, “I have very sensitive nipples. I can’t wait to feel your tongue on them.”
There’s a moment—a long, breathless moment—where I can almost hear the thread of his self-control fraying. Then the last of his restraint snaps.
He leans in and covers my mouth with his.
Cole
She tastes like fine whiskey and bad dreams. The second our mouths fuse together, she moans. Low and soft, rising from deep in her throat, the sound fries the part of my brain that’s responsible for restraint and good decision making.
I hold her jaw in my hand and drink greedily from her luscious mouth like a man who’s been living without water for years.
She leans into me, flattening her hand over the center of my chest, arching closer to my body. Off in the distance, someone whistles a catcall and starts clapping. We both ignore it.
I slide my tongue against hers and wish we were already naked.
“Get us a room,” she breathes, her lips moving against mine.
I capture her lips again because I’m not done kissing her.
She’s delicious. Warm, soft, feminine, and completely fucking delicious.
I want to devour every inch of her body. I want to leave handprints on her skin. I want to bite her and lick her and fuck her in every way between tender and brutally hard.
I want to let this woman with pretty eyes and a sad soul ruin me.
At least for tonight.
Turning her head, I growl into her ear, “I’m going to the front desk. I’ll meet you in ten minutes by the elevators. You shouldn’t be there, Shay.”
“I will be.”
“You shouldn’t.”
Tearing myself away from her, I rise from the booth and nod at Matt behind the bar to put the drinks on my house tab. Then I walk away, weaving through the tables as I head out toward the lobby and front desk.
It takes every ounce of what willpower I have left not to turn around to see if she’s watching me go.
Shay
Unsteady, I make my back to the table where Chelsea, Angel, and Jen await, gaping at me with matching expressions of shock.
I slide into my chair and look around the table. “Good news! I’m getting laid tonight. He just went to get us a room.”
They erupt into ear-piercing shrieks so loud, they can probably be heard from outer space. Wincing, I wave a hand at them to stop. “Guys, please. You’re making a scene.”
Chelsea hoots. “This from the girl playing tonsil hockey with a stranger in the middle of a bar!”
“It wasn’t tonsil hockey, you adolescent. And we weren’t in the middle of the bar. We were all the way over there, up against the wall.”
I grab Chelsea’s water glass and suck down every drop of liquid in it. My mouth is a desert.
Must be nerves. Which is also probably what’s making my knees knock, my heart thud, and my hands tremble.
Mr. Dark and Stormy has quite the interesting effect on my body.
Jen demands, “What the hell happened between you leaving this table like you were walking off to your own execution to you coming back ten minutes later drenched in sweat with a date for a dicking?”
I look down at myself. “Am I sweating? Oh God, I’m sweating. Fuck.”
Chelsea cackles. “From the looks of him, you’ll be a lot wetter in a few minutes. Good for you, girl! I’m so proud! You couldn’t have given me a better birthday present.”
Imagining what I’m about to do with Cole, I panic. My pulse surges into overdrive. I look at Chelsea beseechingly. “I haven’t had sex in three months.”
She makes a face at me. “You have sex with your vibrator every day.”
“I meant with something breathing. What if I forgot how to do it? What if it’s awkward and horrible? What if he’s a premature ejaculator? Shit, did I remember to shave?”
“Shave?” repeats Chelsea, outraged. “How many times have I told you to wax your kitty? Shaving leaves stubble! Stubble is not sexy!”
Jen says, “I got all my pubes lasered off. Hurt like a bitch, but it was worth it.”
Angel says, “I can’t afford the laser, so I use that lotion that melts off all the hair at the root. Smells weird, but it works.”
“Good grief, will you people stop yammering about pubic hair and give me some emotional support? I’m about to go have a one-night stand with a hot stranger! Give me some womanly words of advice. Angel, you go first.”
“Why me?”
“You’re the most experienced.”
She frowns. “Did you just call me a slut?”
“Forget it.” I turn to Chelsea. “You go.”
She snorts. “So I’m Second-Slut-in-Command, huh?”
“For God’s sake. Jen? Any help here?”
She regards me with a serious expression, then says, “Condoms. Multiple condoms.”
“Obviously!”
Chelsea pats my handbag, lying next to her empty water glass. “I’ve been keeping her stocked for just such an opportunity.”
Jen nods. “Okay. Lube?”
“Trust me, we won’t need lube. When I tell you I’m soaked, I might as well have been hosed down by a fire truck. And I’m not looking for technical advice, I need emotional advice. I need support. How do I get through this?”
Angel says, “Just open your legs, honey. He’ll do the rest.”
I prop my elbows on the table, drop my head into my hands, and sigh. “You three have less nurturing instinct between you than the average quokka.”
“What’s a quokka?” asks Jen.
“A cute little furry marsupial that throws its baby at predators so it can escape.”
Chelsea laughs. “Yeah, that does sound like us.”
Jen leans over and rests her hand on my shoulder. “Listen, just relax. You must’ve felt a connection, right?”
I lift my head and look at her, then nod.
“So rely on the connection. You don’t even have to talk.” She pauses. “Unless he wants butt sex and you don’t. You should probably talk about that.”
“Discuss butt sex. Great. Thanks for the wonderful advice.”
“Well, we don’t want him ramming it into any hole you don’t want him to ram it into, do we?”
“I cannot believe you said that with a straight face.” I stand, pick up my handbag, and look at my friends, trying to think of some meaningful parting words in the event my strangled corpse is found naked in a hallway in the morning.
I don’t believe Cole’s dangerous, but in case I’m wrong, I want them to remember me fondly.
“If I die tonight—”
Chelsea sits bolt upright and interrupts me. “Ooh! If you die, I want your black leather jacket with the fringe.”
Jen gasps, sitting forward. “And I want that cute green Fendi handbag! The white Prada one too.”
I exhale heavily and turn to Angel. “Let me guess. The vintage Valentino dress I found at the thrift store?”