“You’re welcome.” Whitt continued his downward path, pausing to suck at the spot where her neck and shoulder met, his mouth pulling her skin hard enough she would probably have a mark in the morning. “Now, tell me more about myself.”
“You are very handsome.” It was about the most superficial thing she could come up with. Digging any deeper would only take her into dangerous territory.
“That’s true.”
She snorted. “You’re a little conceited.”
“But only a little.” His lips skimmed over the swell of her breast. “What else?”
Bess scanned the room. “You’re very tidy.”
“You’re making me sound pretty fucking boring, Sweetheart.”
“I said you were good in the bedroom.”
Whitt leaned up, giving her a devilish grin. “I guess I’ll have to try to get upgraded to amazing in the bedroom then, since it’s my most redeeming quality.”
A second later his mouth was back on her pussy, sucking and licking as if he’d done this to her a million times instead of just once. In minutes Bess was coming again, the nearly empty room spinning around her as the man she was working hard not to like murmured more sweet words against her skin.
She’d never been called perfect by a man once, let alone over and over. It would have been easy to say it was because he didn’t know her. Didn’t know the uglier side of the woman he was showering with praise.
But his assessment of her was disturbingly close, and Whitt seemed almost impressed at the qualities some men found less than desirable.
Not some men. One man.
“Don’t let a man tell you you’re anything but fucking perfect. Understand me?”
And now he was reading her thoughts. That was great.
Only she could end up having a one night stand with a man like this. “Do you let women tell you you’re not perfect?”
A shadow passed across his midnight eyes. “I’m not perfect, Sweetheart. Not by a long shot.”
“And I am?”
He studied her face for too long. “Perfect means different things to different people.”
Bess started to argue. Started to ask what in the hell perfect was to him, because he obviously had a pretty low threshold to entry on that club, but Whitt cut her off, sealing his mouth over hers with a kiss that stole her breath and her senses. His tongue stroked hers. His hands tangled in her hair. His body pressed close, hard and hot, the weight of his dick resting long and solid against her belly.
She reached between them, fisting him tight. She’d done nothing but lay there so far, and it was time to show Whitt he wasn’t the only one who could hold their own in the situation.
He groaned low in his chest as she pumped in long, slow strokes. “Fuck, Sweetheart. Don’t do too much of that.”
“Okay.” Bess took advantage of his distraction, hooking one leg around the back of his and rolling them across the king-sized mattress.
His dark brows lifted. “Impressive.” He caught her behind the neck and pulled her against him. “Not many people get the upper hand with me.”
A second later she was on her back again. “Are you saying you like to be in control?”
“That might be an understatement.” His mouth brushed hers. Soft at first, then growing rougher. More demanding. When Whitt broke the kiss his breathing was fast, his words rough. “Can I fuck you now, Sweetheart?”
The question caught her off guard. No man had ever asked permission before. Not so directly anyway. “I thought you said you liked to be in charge.”
His head barely shook. “I said I liked to be in control.” His fingers trailed across her lips. “When it comes to fucking you’re in charge. You don’t want it, it doesn’t happen.”
She swallowed hard. Where in the hell did a man like this come from?
And why in the hell did he have to be leaving in the morning?
“I want it.” She pushed her hands in to his hair. “I want you.” Before she could change her mind she added, “Whoever you are.”
He knew she wasn’t really Carly Smith, and she knew he wasn’t really Whitt whatever he said his last name was. She was lying naked with a man whose name she didn’t know, and somehow it felt like an irrelevant fact.
Names didn’t matter. What mattered was that he seemed to get her in a way most people didn’t. “Please.”
“So polite.” He shifted on the bed, moving away to the packed bag in the corner, where he reached into a zipped pocket on the side and pulled out a condom. He tore it open as he crawled toward her. “What else are you willing to say please for, Sweetheart?”
That list was surprisingly long considering she’d known him just a few hours.
Unfortunately, she only had one night to get to as many as she could.
Bess eyed the bag in the corner. “How many condoms do you have in there?”
The surprise in his eyes made her smile. “You might be overestimating me.”
Bess shook her head. “I doubt it.” When Whitt asked what she thought he was she’d been superficial with her words. Tried to stay focused only on what didn’t matter when it came to who this man was. Fed him the bullshit she hoped would keep her safe.
But he deserved better.
“I would say chances are that’s an impossible thing to do.” Her belly fluttered as he eased between her thighs. “I think you’re a man who is capable of anything.”
He stilled, watching her with the same intensity he’d had all night.
“I think you are honest and focused and unstoppable.” She scrambled for more, wanting to give him a little of what he’d given her tonight. Show him she saw who he was too. Maybe not all of it, but enough. “I think you are the kind of man who takes care of everyone else first.”
He’d done it all night. Protected her. Shown her pleasure without taking any for himself.
Whitt leaned closer, the hard press of his cock notching against her. “You definitely overestimate me.” His big body covered hers as he eased into her. “But I’ll do my best to live up to your expectations.” He was fully seated in her before the words fully left his mouth, ending on a groan. “Jesus.” His forehead dropped to hers as he held tight against her. “You feel so fucking good.”
He started to move, pulling and pushing in long, steady strokes, each one dragging another string of praises through his lips.
And Bess took them all. Filed them away for another time. Another place.
Whitt shifted, pushing up to his knees, pulling her legs around his waist as he sank deeper, filling her completely. Every move shoved her higher, stroking the most unbelievably sensitive spot somewhere inside.
“Give it to me, Sweetheart. Give me what I want.” The demand was ragged and rough in her ear as he held her tight, his body rocking into hers. “Come with me.”
A second later he swelled inside her, his dick twitching as a low growl rumbled through his chest. His climax seemed to summon her own, catching Bess and taking her with him over the edge.
She would have gone willingly, because there wasn’t a doubt in her mind he was the kind of man who would catch her.
Whitt’s lips moved over her skin, covering her neck and cheeks in slow sweeps. His dark eyes finally settled over hers. He took a long, slow breath. “I wish—”
Bess pressed one finger to his lips. She couldn’t hear the rest. “Shhh.”
His midnight eyes stayed on hers, hiding nothing. Showing her what he intended to say. It was one more thing she would hold close. A reminder that someday there would be a man who understood her.
One who could stay.
****
BESS SHIFTED IN the large bed. She didn’t have to reach to know he was gone.
The room felt empty.
Just like she did.
Was this how it was supposed to feel? Why in the hell did people have one-night stands if this was what the morning after was like?
Probably because it still seemed worth it.
Bes
s rolled to her side and scooted across the king-sized mattress, doing her best to resist the temptation to press her nose into the pillow beside her. It would smell like him. The only evidence of his presence still remaining in the room.
She sat up and her stomach dropped.
His scent might not be the only bit he left behind.
Bess flipped back the covers and stared down at the damp spot on the sheets between her legs.
They’d used a condom every time. She watched him put them on, knew damn well they were there.
Her heart raced as she scanned the room. She could go check them. Make sure they were all still intact. Maybe it was just from her. Residual wetness from a night of pleasure unlike any she’d ever experienced.
She jumped off the bed and rushed to the small trash can beside the desk. Part of her thought for sure he would have taken the trash too. The man was meticulous.
But there, in the clear plastic liner, were a handful of foil pouches and wadded-up tissues. She grabbed the one on top and carefully unwrapped the crumpled Kleenex before lifting out the spent rubber.
It was almost empty. Nothing collected in the tip like normal.
Because there, at the worst possible spot, was a tiny defect in the latex.
Bess lifted it higher, staring at the broken condom, as the potential ramifications of one single night fell down around her.
“Shit.”
****
Loss Recovery continues the story of Bess and Wade, picking up two years after their single night together. The story is set in a tiny, isolated town in Alaska, complete with snow, northern lights, and bears.
Wade will have to protect the people who matter most to him from the worst the world has to offer.
While figuring out how to make them his forever.
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All the hugs—
Jemma
Collateral Damage Page 4