“Good. Now here’s something I want to know.” He curls his hands tighter around my hips, a move that sends a zing through me. “Hypothetical situation. You walk into a trendy ice cream shop. You have to pick one of two flavors based only on the name. Are you getting a pint of Swoon or Sexual Tension Swirl?”
A laugh bursts from me as I rest my palms on his big shoulders. “That’s easy. I’ll get a double scoop, one of each.”
With dark eyes that glimmer with heat, he gives me an approving nod. “A woman after my own heart.”
“Oh. Your heart thinks a lot about ice cream?”
Letting go of my hips, Harlan spins me in a dizzying circle, then yanks me close against his big wall of a chest. “It thinks a lot about a lot of things.”
He slides a hand up my back, and I can’t even fashion a comeback. That strong hand feels so good.
And it hasn’t just been a while since I’ve had a good date. It’s been a while since . . . well, a lot of things.
I generally try not to think with my libido, but my libido is pounding its fists and pitching a fit, wanting to take the wheel. When his fingertips coast across a sliver of bare skin near my spine, I shiver, and a breathless, wordless whisper stutters over my lips.
He’s quiet for perhaps the first time. A few seconds later, he lowers his voice to a husky murmur. “And what does your heart dwell on, Katie?”
I try to think beyond the pleasure racing over my skin. “Dancing,” I answer low as I brush my fingers over his shoulders, indulging myself in touching him, just like he’s doing with me. “I believe in fashion, friends, family, and . . . flirting.”
His eyes never stray from mine, and they’re full of daring. “Tonight, you shall have that last one till your cup runneth over.”
That sounds like a pretty good deal.
What’s not good is that it’s past nine and I’ll have to take off at ten-thirty. I can’t change the countdown, so I vow to make the most of dancing and flirting with this man.
We stay on the floor for another few songs, talking and flirting, then he hooks his thumb toward the bar. “Glass of champagne to quench your thirst?”
“I’m in.”
We make our way to the bar, passing a terrace overlooking the sea. Everything from the sparkling lights to the swoony music to the ocean waves crashing in the distance makes this night feel like it could go on forever.
But it can’t.
4
Harlan
With champagne flutes in hand, we head to the balcony—alone. It’s deserted out here, and I’m over the moon because I’m eager to gobble up more time with her then find the perfect moment for a kiss.
After that, I’m hoping we can kick it up more than a few notches at my place or hers. I’ve got a feeling Katie is game for that too.
I clink my glass to hers. “To weddings.”
“To wedding kisses,” she adds.
Yup. Perfect night.
I take a drink and she does too. We set our glasses on the terrace wall at the same moment, then she puts her pink purse next to them.
“You truly can’t beat this view,” she declares as she gazes at the ocean. “I’ll miss San Francisco.”
“Wait. Hold on. Are you leaving the city?”
Quickly, she shakes her head. “I mean if I leave. I’d miss it. That’s what I meant to say.”
I arch a dubious brow. “Are you sure? Are you Cinderella, planning to take off at the stroke of midnight?”
She laughs, a buoyant sound that kind of turns me on. “I promise I’ll leave behind a glass slipper if I do.”
My eyes coast down to her shoes. “They’re silver, Katie. Not quite glass.”
“But close enough?” she asks, like she’s hoping the answer is yes.
“Do you want to be Cinderella?”
“I have no desire to be in a fairy tale.” Her eyes flicker with hints of naughtiness. Or maybe I’m just seeing my own wishes reflected back. “Unless . . . it’s the dirty kind.”
Ah, and naughty hope wins the night. I step closer, brushing her hair off her shoulder. She trembles, and I don’t think it’s from the night air. “And now we’re talking the same language.”
I savor the anticipation in this moment.
The moment before.
There is little I love more than teasing a woman, than drawing out the high of expectation.
I play with her hair, running the strands through my fingers, then dart my thumb to her cheek, stroking a soft line across her jaw.
She breathes a shuddery sigh, and I inch closer but still don’t touch. I wait, staring at those glossy pink lips.
Katie lifts her chin slightly. “My language says kiss me. What does yours say?”
I slide my palm over her shoulder then down her bare arm. Goosebumps rise in its wake. “Same, but a gentleman should ask, Katie,” I say. “May I kiss you?”
“Get your lips on mine.”
“You’re my kind of woman,” I tell her, then I shut the fuck up. I close my eyes and brush my lips across hers.
A jolt of pleasure slides down my spine as I taste her—lip gloss and sweetness and a hint of champagne.
Sugar and sparkles.
So damn fitting.
I start slow, exploring her lips with a gentle sweep of mine, letting the moment expand, enjoying every sensation—from the hitch in her breath, to the jut of her hips, to her soft hands traveling up my chest.
I cup her cheek, running my thumb along her face, then I thread my hands into her hair. Soft strands slide through my fingers as I flick my tongue across the seam of her mouth, pressing a little harder.
She parts her lips, inviting me in.
Her eager hands fall to my hips, and in one swift move, she jerks me against her.
Yes, ma’am.
Wrapping a hand around the back of her head, I draw her lips close and her body closer. As we kiss, my other hand skims down her back to her ass.
I squeeze, savoring the handful of flesh.
This full-body kiss causes my bones to hum. She makes the sexiest sounds—little murmurs and sighs as our tongues get to know each other. Katie kisses like she talks—flirty, fiery, and full of sass. She doesn’t simply relax as I take the lead. She kisses back all hard and rough, and I love it. Love it even more when she draws my bottom lip between hers, then nips me.
It’s like a zap of pleasure.
We break apart for a second. “Do I have a biter in my arms?” I ask.
Her eyes blaze with a yes. “Maybe a little. Promise I won’t hurt you, Harlan,” she says, a little coy.
“Maybe I like a little hurt. A nibble here or there would do the trick.”
She tests me by running her lips along my jaw then nipping. A sizzle of pleasure shoots through me.
“Oh yes,” I rasp as I grab her ass harder.
With a throaty purr, her lips journey up my neck, peppering me with hungry kisses. When she reaches my ear, she nips on the lobe, then lets out a little roar like a lioness.
I believe I have met my match.
She’s the fire to my fire. I want all her passion, and I want to give her every ounce of mine.
I let go, back her up against the terrace edge, and meet her heated gaze. “You like it the same way, sweetheart?” I ask, my voice low and smoky.
“Seems I do,” she says, reaching her hands around my neck, playing with the ends of my hair as I crowd her against the stone railing, my whole frame lined up with hers.
So she can feel me.
Know how aroused I am.
Experience what she’s done to me.
I slide my hands down her sides, savoring her curves—enjoying too the wild look in her eyes as I touch her body. She shudders, and the sound urges me on. I drop my lips to the hollow of her throat where I can lick, kiss, suck. As I move along her sweet and spicy skin to her collarbone, I graze my teeth over her flesh.
“Ohhhh,” she says on a shiver, trembling in my arms.
I nip a littl
e harder, push my pelvis against her, meeting her move for move, moan for moan, giving as good as she gave.
Tit for tat.
Speaking of . . .
Letting go of her hip, I roam a hand upward over the pink silk, then up a little higher, then higher still.
Katie gasps—a needy, sexy sound.
A lovely plea inviting me to indulge.
So, I do, cupping a breast, filling my hand. I squeeze, and she lets go of my mouth, tosses her head back, and moans against the night, “You.”
Indeed.
I’ll take that as a compliment, thank you very much.
But I want more. I want to please this woman to the stars and back. It’s my kink, my passion, my pleasure. Giving.
“Katie, tell me what you want to do tonight,” I murmur. I don’t want to lead her into temptation. I want her to find it from within.
She pouts. “I want you to take me home, spread me out on my bed, and do dirty things to me all night long.”
Yes, there is a God.
“Taxi,” I say, then bring my fingers to my lips like I’m about to whistle for one.
“But . . .”
That word is the door slamming on all my wedding fantasies. “Aww, why does there have to be a ‘but’ when I want to deliver everything you want?”
She smiles softly, but sadly too. “I have to leave soon. My sister, Olive, is flying in tonight, and I need to pick her up in an hour. We have a meeting tomorrow morning for a new business venture.”
That sounds exciting.
And thoroughly cock-blocking.
But if I’ve learned one thing playing pro ball, it’s that the play doesn’t always go the way you planned. Sometimes your quarterback hands off so you can run with the ball. Sometimes he calls an audible and passes. Your success depends on how quickly you react to the action on the field.
“Let’s see, then,” I say, because I can react damn quickly. “It’s Thursday night now. I’m on game lockdown Friday through Sunday. I have a sponsor event Monday night. How’s Tuesday?”
She blinks, taking a second to catch up to my question. But she quickly does, and her blue eyes twinkle.
To be sure, though, I add, “By ‘Tuesday,’ I mean I’m asking you on a date. I want to take you out on the town. Have a good time with you. Then do to you all those decadent things that are racing through my head right now.”
Katie’s nimble fingers make their way up my tie. She tugs, yanking me closer. “Tell me one naughty thing. Wait. Hold on. Tell me where you’re going to take me out first,” she says, letting go of my tie to run her palms down my chest, covering my pecs. “Then you can tell me something deliciously dirty.”
Oh, I like the way her mind works. She knows her worth.
My fingers wander across her stomach, making playful circles as I answer. “I bet you’d like to do something a little competitive, a little showy.”
Her eyebrows rise. “I’m showy? You think I’m showy?”
“I sure do, and I think it’s sexy as hell. Now, let me finish, woman.”
She rolls her eyes. “Fine, fine. Finish.”
I tap my chin like I’m deep in thought. “I could take you out bowling, ballroom dancing, or to play my second-favorite sport.”
“Sex is your second-favorite sport?” She bats her lashes ever so innocently.
I toss my head back, laughing. “Sweetheart, sex is not a sport. For it to be a sport, it would require rules, regulations, and competition. And sex should never be a competition.”
“What is it, then?”
I don’t answer right away, but shoot her a sly, knowing grin. Then I speak the truth from the bottom of my heart . . . and cock. “Sex is a devotion, ideally to the woman’s pleasure.”
She murmurs her approval. “Ultimate Charmer. That’s you.”
“I will wear that title with pride. Now, as I was saying, my second-favorite sport. Want to know what that is?”
“You know I do.”
“It’s only one letter different from the one I play for a living . . .” I trail off, eager to see how quickly she’ll figure it out.
She furrows her brow, and then one, two seconds, later, her eyes pop. “Foosball! I love foosball.” She pokes my chest. “Bowling and foosball, pretty please. Then . . . devotion,” she says, all low and seductive, like a phone sex operator.
“Tuesday night, Katie. It is on.” I haul her in for another hot, passionate kiss, and we seal our plans for the best kind of date. I swallow her sighs, devouring her sounds.
Maybe I’m a player. Maybe I came here tonight with my one-track mind on a mission. And yes, I desperately want to get Katie naked and writhing under me, but I’m also having a fantastic time talking to her.
I’ve got a feeling with her, one I’ve never had before.
A feeling that there’s something brewing.
Something that sparks with fresh and daring possibilities.
But tonight, the clock is ticking, so I break the kiss. “When do you need to go, sweetheart?”
She reaches for her purse from the wall, clicks it open, and takes out her phone. “I should leave in fifteen minutes.” Her blue irises flicker with mischief. “You know, there’s a lot we can do in fifteen minutes.”
How did I get so lucky and this woman so amazing?
I must have been a very good boy in a past life.
5
Harlan
One minute later, we’re in the bathroom.
It’s one of those classy hotel bathrooms. Only one stall, with its own tiny lounge area with a carpet and mirror. Katie closes the door with a quiet snick, then locks it, pressing a finger to her lips. “Shhh.”
“Not sure I can be quiet,” I tease, as she sets her purse on the counter.
“You better be, Harlan,” she whispers. “If word gets out that you’re the one getting blown at the sports reporter’s wedding . . .”
Yup. Past me was clearly a choirboy. An angel, even.
But hold on.
“Wait. What if I want to make you see stars?” That’s my playbook. Give a woman pleasure. Then do it again, and again, and again. A man shouldn’t even think about coming until she’s ridden to the moon and back three times. Minimum.
That’s just polite.
“You can save that for Tuesday, big guy.” There’s nothing unclear about her intention when she undoes my belt, wiggles a brow, and licks her lips lasciviously. “I know what I like. And when I felt you press this fantastic hard-on against me earlier, I kept imagining what you’d taste like. Will that work for you?”
My brain goes haywire.
Yup.
Officially, it’s one hundred percent nuts up there. All the circuits are frying, all the lights flashing and the sparks flying.
“But I want to make you feel good,” I say.
Only, it’s a feeble protest because, holy hell—I don’t think it’s in my DNA to turn down a blow job from a gorgeous woman, no matter how badly I want to give her O after O. Not after she unzips my slacks, then sinks to the floor. “Well. Happy Thursday to me, then.”
“That’s the idea.” The blonde beauty gazes up at me with sex in her eyes and dirty deeds on her parted lips.
“Oh, sweetheart. You look so fucking good on your knees.”
“I feel good on my knees too,” she says, tugging down my black boxer briefs. My cock springs free.
Katie’s eyes pop like she just got everything she wanted for her birthday. I’m certainly glad she seems to think so, because I’d like her to gift wrap my dick with her mouth, lips, and tongue.
“Mmmm. You’re like hard candy.” She wraps a soft hand around the base. A quick burst of pleasure pulses through my body as she squeezes and strokes.
“I hope you like your candy good and long,” I tell her.
“Very, very long,” she says, pumping my cock in her fist, wasting no time.
She dips her face to my dick and sucks the head between her lips. My blood surges. My fingers weave thro
ugh her silky blonde hair while she flicks her tongue along my dick and pulls me deeper into her decadent mouth.
“Can it be Tuesday right now? Because I want this again,” I whisper, my voice already rough with lust.
My legs shake as Katie smiles wickedly up at me, the wild look in her eyes saying she wants this as much as I do.
That she relishes giving.
It’s official. I have met my match.
“Your mouth is incredible,” I murmur, electricity crackling along my nerve endings.
The sight before me is out of this world.
Sure, I left my home tonight a hopeful motherfucker, but I didn’t imagine a beautiful, fun, feisty woman would haul me into a bathroom and take me to town with her throat.
This is one helluva night, even for a guy who likes to have his fun.
And that’s me.
I’m the player.
The good-time guy.
I don’t lie, I don’t lead women on, and I don’t hide where I stand. And right now, I’m standing with my pants at my thighs while the most captivating woman I’ve met in ages worships my dick and blows my mind too.
And yet I’m also pretty sure something new is happening. Already, I’m positive I want more than one date with her.
Maybe even more than a handful.
With Katie, I could maybe see many wild nights like this, nights when I’m not a player at all. But as she flicks her tongue along my shaft, I lose my focus on the future. I am only interested in the here and now. “Fuck, yes. Won’t take me long, sweetheart,” I rasp out.
In a second, she sucks harder, deeper, with the fervor of a zealot.
I succumb to the build. To the bliss barreling down my body. The delicious swirl of an orgasm that’s not far off.
But the gentleman hasn’t left the building entirely. “Just want to warn you. In case you don’t want to swallow,” I mutter.
She hoovers.
Holy hell.
My toes curl in my shoes as she sucks even more intensely, the head of my dick hitting her throat.
My brain jumps into sexual overdrive.
I rock my hips, losing myself in the caress of her tight, hot lips. My climax pulls me under. I shudder, ecstasy wracking my body as I come hard in her mouth.
A Wild Card Kiss Page 3