She gazed at him through her lashes.
Don’t blow it by saying something ridiculous, Bridget Vixen!
She lowered her voice. “What if I turned you down?”
Somehow, that sexy smirk of his got sexier. “Then I guess I would have rescued you from that jerk at the bar, then had my dinner alone. But I couldn’t leave the bar until you did.”
“Why not?” she asked, all eyelashes and silky-smooth tone.
She was getting the vixen act down pat!
He leaned in, and she inhaled hints of whiskey and sandalwood. “Because that guy had been trying to get your attention all night, and I didn’t like it.”
“Why not?” she repeated, pulse pounding. Her brain had turned to mush, and why not happened to be the only two words she was capable of verbalizing.
He’d been watching her, just as she’d been watching him.
Was she the predator or the prey?
His sexy smirk morphed into something deliciously wolfish. “Because I want you all for myself.”
There was the answer.
Prey or not, she couldn’t deny that this vixen business was exhilarating.
“Let me introduce myself. I’m—” he began, but she pressed a finger to his lips, silencing him. The contact rippled through her body.
She leaned in. “First names only. I’m Bridget.”
She went to remove her finger from where it rested against his lips, but he gripped her wrist and pressed her finger back in place. Without missing a beat, the man opened his mouth and grazed his teeth slowly up her index finger. When he’d made it to the top, he licked the pad of her trembling digit.
Wowza!
A tremor passed through her body as the air around them became electrified. She arched a fraction closer to him. She was no virgin, but this kind of sexual energy was like a tornado trapped inside a hurricane, and she was walking straight into the storm.
“I’m Soren,” he answered.
Soren.
What a perfect name. It sounded like a movie star or some mega mogul.
She stared into his eyes, mesmerized. She’d seen this man for the first time less than an hour ago. Now, she was cuddled up next to him in a darkened booth. He released her hand, still tingling from his tongue.
“I think you’re a woman who likes to play, Bridget,” he said, that wolfish grin turning carnal.
He slid his hand up her thigh. And, in what could only be described as the polar opposite reaction to what she’d experienced with the creep at the bar, she reveled in his attention. With his warm breath against her skin and the scorching heat radiating off his body, his strong, rough hand lit a path straight to the apex of her thighs. Instinctively, she parted her legs and allowed him access to her most sensitive place as her fantasy became a reality.
She gripped his thigh, needing to anchor herself to this man, to this moment. He rocked his palm against her as his middle finger teased her entrance.
“Soren,” she breathed, her eyes fluttering closed.
“I’ve barely touched you, and you’re already wet,” he answered in a low growl, his whiskey sandalwood scent driving her wild.
Her nipples tightened into sharp peaks at the low, dirty rumble of his voice. But she wanted more. She opened her eyes and met his gaze. It didn’t matter that they were in a crowded restaurant. It didn’t matter that a waiter could arrive at any second. She was locked in, trapped by wanton attraction, and utterly enthralled with Soren’s seduction.
He smiled, and that sexy wolfish grin sealed her fate. “Bridget,” he purred, drinking her in.
Her name, flowing from his lips, sent her arousal ratcheting up another notch.
“Yes,” she gasped.
He massaged her with deliciously slow strokes, kindling a flame deep within. And heaven help her, her toes curled as she rocked against his hand, back and forth, setting a sinfully slow pace.
“Do you know what I want to do to you?” he asked as the sweet torture of his touch left her breathless.
She squeezed his thigh harder as he teased her entrance.
“Tell me,” she begged on a tight moan.
He pressed a kiss to her temple. “Bridget, you sexy as hell vixen, I’m going to make you come, right here, right now, right in the middle of this restaurant.”
4
Soren
He couldn’t tear his gaze from his dinner companion as her sweet sighs got him rock-hard.
Who the hell was this woman—this alluring vixen?
Just as his plane landed in Denver, he’d received a text from Janine. Newsflash: the city was shut down thanks to a snowstorm. She’d reserved a room for him for the night—a godsend because he needed to work out the maddening buzz rushing through his body. The realization that there was a decent chance his relationship with the Abbotts was about to change had left him off-kilter—an unwelcome emotion that could only be numbed by sex.
Raw animal fucking.
And then, he caught a glimpse of the petite brunette, and he had to have her.
She was on the phone, engrossed in a conversation, which allowed him ample time to drink her in. Stunningly beautiful with long, chocolate brown hair, the light brought out hints of red and chestnut. He didn’t usually notice bullshit things like this about anyone. But he couldn’t get enough. Her smile. The way she nibbled at her lip—a nervous habit, but with her, it was endearing, even sweet.
He did not do sweet…or maybe he did?
When the jackass seated next to her began eyeing her, his inner caveman nearly had him flying across the bar to knock the guy into next week. Thank Christ, he was able to keep his cool. In reality, the jerk had actually done him a favor. The salsa slurper’s pathetic attempt at hitting on his hotel bar beauty had sent her right into his arms. And now, his hand was inside her panties.
Not bad progress—not by a long shot.
He stroked her slick center as her soft moans fed his deepening desire, and her intoxicating cinnamon vanilla scent had his head spinning. He could eat her for dessert. And he would. He would feast on this woman. Her hand slid up his thigh and rested near his rock-hard cock as he slipped his finger deep inside her wet heat and cupped her sex. Her nails dug into his leg, clutching him as his body ached for her touch.
But they’d get to that later. Now, he was doing something he’d never done before. While no woman had ever complained after jumping in the sack with him, he’d never put another’s pleasure above his own until now.
Until her.
He set a steady pace and worked her with the palm of his hand. Her legs parted another inch, opening for him, welcoming his touch, and he reveled in carnal victory as she bucked her hips against his firm grip. Her chest heaved as she rode his hand, swaying to the rhythm of their covert erotic escapades. He wanted to pull her onto his lap and make her come while her ass rubbed against his cock. His mind raced with all the ways he could please her, desperate to explore every inch of her body.
The breath hitched in her throat, and she stared up at him—all innocent eyes and trembling lips. Trapped between this world and the next, she teetered on the edge of release, her eyes burning with desire.
There was no other word to describe her other than to admit that she was absolutely magnificent.
She was heartbreakingly beautiful, and something deep within him knew that she wasn’t the kind of girl who got off in restaurants with strangers. She wasn’t the Cindy Callahan type—the type who, like him, took what they wanted without remorse.
But whoever she was, tonight, she wanted to play the vixen, and he wasn’t about to deny her the experience.
Did she crave the escape as much as he did? Did she long to be tangled in a stranger’s heated embrace, all sweaty limbs and quivering bodies, ripe with lust and raw with need?
“Yes!” she moaned, surrendering to his touch, the word going straight to his cock.
He needed to get some damn control over himself, or he’d lose it right alongside her.
“Easy,” he whispered against the shell of her ear. “You don’t want anyone to know what we’re doing, do you?”
“What are we doing?” she asked on a tight breath.
Her brown eyes blazed with lust and something else, something more profound—a yearning he knew all too well. He couldn’t look away from this beauty. He wanted to explore the graceful curve of her neck with his tongue and catalog every freckle on her ivory skin with his kisses. Even in the dim light, he could see the pink flush to her cheeks, like rose petals scattered across fresh, fallen snow.
He lowered his voice. “Did you forget? I’m making you come.”
He slipped another finger inside her, determined to make good on his claim. Already, he felt a kinship with her body. She was close to meeting her release. Her grip on his thigh tightened as her sweet center clenched his fingers. It would be goddamn amazing to slide his cock into her tight, wet heat. To lay her down on his bed and cover her petite frame with his large, muscled body as he filled her to the hilt with his hard length. But he couldn’t deny how much he liked watching as he owned her pleasure. He pressed his thumb against her sensitive bud, and her eyes fluttered open. Suspended in that moment, he held her, body and soul, as she spiraled over the edge. Her orgasm tore through her, and she dug her nails into his leg—the sweet bite of pain a delicious reward.
He could spend the rest of his life making this woman come, and it would be time well spent.
Then the restaurant disappeared. The hushed conversations and pockets of laughter vanished. The buzz of waiters and busboys disintegrated into thin air. His entire world consisted of two things: this woman and the overwhelming desire to give her pleasure.
She parted her lips, dissolving into orgasmic bliss, as a rich, sated moan, evidence of her unabashed pleasure, carried on her breath. But before anyone could hear her wanton cries, he pressed his mouth to hers and swallowed her heated exhalations.
Her lips were the final blow. Petal soft, they beckoned him.
Kiss me and never stop.
What was this fascination? It had to be his reaction to the possibility that the only redeeming part of his life could soon become nothing but a memory.
Casting away his fears, he focused on Bridget and the visceral desire that drove him to take more and allowed him to forget. He cupped her face in his hand and deepened their kiss. Their tongues met in a sensual dance, licking, exploring, and ravenous for more. Her fingertips trailed down his jawline as if she were smoothing out his rough edges, those ragged emotions he kept hidden deep within. She hummed a honeyed, sated sound, and despite being in the midst of a bustling restaurant, the warmth of her voice wrapped them in a cocoon of perfect seclusion.
“That was…wow,” she whispered against his lips, and her raw honesty made him want to do it all over again.
Except, not here. They needed to go somewhere else, so he wouldn’t have to stifle her cries of pleasure. And he wanted to see her—all of her.
He wanted to unwrap her like a Christmas present.
Jesus! This wasn’t him. He was no romantic. But maybe that was okay. He could use a night to forget himself. A night to forget his worries. A night to be a man who wasn’t on the brink of losing everything that mattered.
Gently, he slipped his hand out of her panties, drawing his wet fingers along her thigh. She watched him closely—those trustworthy chestnut eyes awash with satisfaction. He liked having her gaze trained on his every move. And with that thought, a wicked idea formed.
Without breaking their connection, he raised his hand to his lips, moist with her arousal, and sucked the tip of his middle finger.
Now, he was the one humming his delight—sampling a taste of what was to come.
“What are you doing?” she asked, her gaze locked on his mouth.
“You got to start with dessert. It’s only right that I get a little taste,” he replied and instantly was rewarded as his one-night vixen’s eyes widened in a sensual state of awe.
She bit her lip, then gave him the hint of a naughty grin as she ran her hand up his inner thigh and palmed his thick, hard length. “I think we could arrange for you to have some dessert, too.”
He could see the glimmer of wonder in her eyes—the titillating moment of being someone else. This was new to her. Despite being beautiful, she didn’t realize her powers of seduction.
“You’ll be skipping dinner? Shall I bring you the dessert menu instead?”
At the arrival of their waiter, Bridget gasped and tried to pull away, but he held her close.
He schooled his features. “We’ve changed our plans. We’ll be ordering room service tonight.”
Without missing a beat, he covertly slid her hand off his cock and laced their fingers together.
“We have?” she questioned.
He could see the wheels turning in her head. She’d played the vixen in public. But did she have it in her to take it up a notch?
His pulse raced.
Why the hell was he so determined for her to say yes?
He could have any woman he wanted. This place was crawling with singles on the lookout to hook up. But he only wanted her—this striking enigma.
He rubbed slow circles with his thumb on the back of her wrist. “Room service would be a better choice for us tonight.”
A few tendrils of her dark hair had fallen forward, framing her face and kissing the apples of her cheeks. She tucked the locks behind her ear, still turning over the proposition. A muscle ticked in his jaw. He was a lion ready to pounce, and the anticipation was nearly unbearable.
Every cell in his body wanted her.
She met his gaze as her soulful dark eyes seared into him with the glimmer of a newfound confidence.
Now, it was his vixen schooling her features for the waiter. “I agree. This night definitely calls for room service.”
Hell yes!
His inner caveman was prepared to throw her over his shoulder and sprint up the twenty flights of stairs to his penthouse suite. But he knew better. He nodded to the waiter, and the man stepped aside as he helped his petite vixen out of the booth. Hand in hand, he led her through the crowded restaurant and over to a bank of elevators.
“My room,” he said, and it wasn’t a question.
“What if I offered my room?” she countered, arching an eyebrow.
Two could play at this.
“What floor are you on?” he continued, biting back a grin.
She lifted her chin—a proud little thing. It made him want her even more.
“Five,” she shot back, unflinching.
He allowed the corners of his mouth to tip into the hint of a self-assured smile. “I think you’ll like my room better.”
Janine knew his tastes and hadn’t disappointed him in her choice of rooms. When he’d arrived, he’d been pleasantly surprised. There was no doubt that he’d be bringing back a conquest with him. That was without question. But now, he wanted her to see it.
“You seem pretty sure of yourself?” she parried back.
He held her gaze, which now, in the light, revealed not only a deep hue of brown but more of a rich mahogany.
God, help him. A man could get lost in those eyes if he weren’t careful.
He took a step toward her. “I’m sure about this.”
The banter between them, this spark that ricocheted back and forth, sent his pulse racing. He didn’t have fun with women. He slept with them. He partied with them, but he didn’t talk to them—not like this. What was the point? He didn’t want anything more.
Not only that.
He wasn’t capable of anything more. The vice that had gripped his heart since he was a boy tightened, but he ignored the yearning. Tonight, he didn’t have to worry about Bridget wanting more. She would play her game, and he would play his.
What were the chances their paths would cross again? He was headed to some bullshit tiny mountain town that barely showed up on the map.
The elevator doors opened, and they entered t
he snug space.
He removed his hotel key card from his pocket, then swiped it through the card reader, triggering the button for the top floor to illuminate.
“What’ll it be? Boring on five, or what I have to offer on twenty?” he asked, aching for their witty repartee to continue.
The best kind of trouble glittered in her eyes as she reached over and trailed her index finger along the column of buttons.
“Hmm, whatever will I pick?” she mused playfully.
He stared at her hand and took in her slender fingers. His cheek tingled where she’d stroked him, moments ago, as if she’d already worked her way into his muscle memory.
“We’re headed to the top,” she said, then pressed the button with that naughty glint dancing in her eyes.
But he didn’t take the bait.
“Now we have more time,” he remarked, feigning indifference.
Her brows drew together. “More time for what?”
“For this,” he growled, pressing her against the elevator doors as they began their ascent to the twentieth floor.
She gasped, surprised by the quick movement, which gave him the perfect opportunity to claim her mouth in a scorching kiss. On the brink of losing all restraint, he devoured its softness, reveling in the sensation. Bridget dropped her purse onto the floor as she wrapped her arms around his neck and sighed into his mouth. The sensual sound sent a rush of urgency surging through his body.
He needed more of her. And he needed it now.
Gripping her ass, he lifted her into his arms. He had a good eight to ten inches on her, but in his embrace, they were eye to eye.
“Why can’t I stop kissing you?” he whispered against her lips.
She entwined her fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck. “Because you’re under my spell. You see, Mr. Twentieth Floor, I’m not your average vixen.”
Sweet Christ, she sure as hell wasn’t!
The elevator pinged their arrival, but he didn’t move. With her flushed cheeks and lips red from his kisses, her angelic features had him mesmerized.
“No, you most certainly aren’t.” He glanced into the room. “Are you ready to leave the elevator, or would you like to stay here for a while?”
Not Your Average Vixen: A Christmas Romance Page 6