24 Hours Bundle

by Jo Leigh

  He needed it.

  It’s your ego, buddy. Your pride.

  That’s what he’d told himself in the beginning. But truthfully, he couldn’t give a shit about his pride now. Christ, he was this close to pushing her up against the elevator and sliding fast and deep and sure inside of her, to hell with her admitting that she still had a crush on him.

  He would have done just that if he hadn’t glimpsed the longing that flashed in her gaze every now and then, along with regret.

  She was scared of him, plain and simple.

  Not physically, but emotionally.

  That’s why she’d let him touch her earlier by the pool. Because her back had been to him and she hadn’t had to look at him, to see her emotions reflected in his gaze. When they had been face-to-face and he’d been staring at her, into her, she’d been spooked, and so she’d tossed him into the water. Tonight, she’d had the blindfold to hide behind.

  She wasn’t afraid of the explosive chemistry between them. Rather, she was scared of what she felt for him. The thing was, the chemistry was explosive because of what she felt. Because the feelings ran deeper than lust.

  The elevator doors slid open and they stepped out onto her floor. Her arm brushed his as she moved past. Desire bolted through him and his balls tightened. Every muscle in his body flexed. His spine stiffened. He longed to reach out, pull her into his arms and kiss her until all the barriers crumbled and there was no denying what she felt. Not for his pride’s sake, mind you—he couldn’t give a shit if she admitted her feelings to him. Rather, he wanted her to admit them to herself.

  Because, for the first time in his life, Rance wanted more from a woman than sex. He wanted her heart.

  He wanted Deanie’s.

  And?

  And so he wasn’t going to touch her again. Or push. Or give her any reason to back away from him.

  The next move was hers.

  IF ONLY he would touch her again.

  The desperate thought played through Deanie’s head as she tried to slide the key card into the slot. But Rance stood so close behind her, his body so hard and hot and there, that she had trouble thinking, much less functioning. The card went in, but the green light refused to come on.

  Pulling the blasted piece of plastic free, she tried to gather her determination. Her hands trembled as she shoved the key into the opening a second time.

  “Whatever happened to regular old keys?” she grumbled when the red light continued to shine.

  “These are safer,” Rance said. His hand came up to steady hers and guide the card toward the slot. The plastic went in and slid out, and the traitorous green light blinked. He reached around her and opened the door.

  But where he’d lingered with the contact earlier that day, he didn’t press his lips to her temple or brush his mouth against her ear, or do anything even remotely suggestive.

  Because he isn’t half as turned on as you are.

  A wave of disappointment rolled through her. Her stomach hollowed out as she stepped into her hotel room and Rance made no move to follow.

  She turned, one trembling hand on the doorknob. “Thanks for walking me back.” And giving me the most amazing orgasm of my life.

  Her cheeks flamed at the memory. She licked her lips and he followed the action with his gaze. His eyes darkened to rich, golden pools so deep she could only imagine how far she would have to go to reach the bottom.

  She knew then that while she might be close to losing control and forgetting all about her self-made promise, Rance was just as close.

  Could she push him over the edge? She had to, otherwise she would be begging him and that wasn’t going to happen.

  “I’ll see you later.” He started to turn.

  “Wait,” she blurted. She leaned against the doorjamb and tried for a sexy, come-and-get-me pose. “I, um, really enjoyed dinner.” She went for a breathless, excited voice, but the words sounded more like she had a bad case of laryngitis. She cleared her throat. “I don’t think I’ve ever been any place quite that incredible.”

  He raked a hand through his hair and glanced down the hallway as if sizing up his chances for a quick escape. “The place was pretty incredible, all right.” Another glance and Deanie grew even more determined.

  “You were pretty incredible, yourself.” The statement earned his full attention. “I definitely think I’m learning a lot.” She drew a deep breath, letting the air fill her lungs and push her breasts up and out. The bodice of her dress tightened, outlining her ripe nipples.

  Rance’s attention, however, didn’t leave her face. Instead, his gaze held hers, trying to understand her sudden boldness.

  She ignored the fear that niggled at her gut. It wasn’t like she was tossing her pride out in favor of jumping his bones. She was merely using her newfound feminine wiles to tempt him into jumping her bones.

  “So what’s next?” she asked him. “I’m free of my inhibitions. I know all about using my environment. And I’m well aware of the power of touching.”

  “We do erogenous zones next.” His gaze dropped then, drinking in the display her nipples made as they pressed greedily beneath the dress.

  “You mean here?” Deanie reached up and touched one achingly ripe peak. She traced the point it made beneath the fabric. Her breath caught and her heart seemed to stop. She’d done her fair share of masturbating over the years, and she’d stroked herself. But never with anyone watching her. Or wanting her as much as he did.

  A muscle twitched in his jaw and a golden light fired in the center of his pupils.

  She guided her fingertip to the other aching breast and touched the peak. “And here?”

  “Yeah.” His voice was deep and husky and he looked ready to snatch her hand away and touch her himself.

  If only.

  “What about here?” Her hand dropped to—

  He caught her fingers midair. Before she could blink, he pulled her flush against him. His lips captured hers, his tongue plunged deep, stroking and coaxing until her surprise fled and she joined him. Her tongue tangled and delved and tasted, and she gave as good as she got.

  Her toes curled, her nerves came alive, and a sizzling heat swept through her, starting where his lips touched hers and spreading outward in a search and destroy mission and she all but melted in his arms.

  Her hands snaked around his neck, pulling him closer. She leaned into him and fit her hips to his. His cock pressed rock-hard against her sex. Her aching breasts pushed against the soft material of her sundress, desperate to get free and feel the heat of the man in her arms.

  And he burned so hot.

  His skin seemed to fire to life beneath her touch.

  Everywhere she stroked, caressed, she felt a prickling sensation, his body alive and humming. The sensation stirred her nerves and set them to spinning until she felt as charged, as vibrant as the man touching her.

  He splayed one hand at the base of her spine, pressing her closer while his other bunched the hem of her sundress until the rough pads of his fingers grazed her thigh. He slid his hand around to cup her bottom and knead the soft flesh. He kissed and fondled her until she knew beyond a doubt that he did, indeed, want her as much as she wanted him.

  That he meant to have her.

  Finally.

  Thankfully.

  The knowledge sang through her and she broke the kiss long enough to slide her mouth down his chin, his neck, to his pulse beat. She licked the spot before moving down, through a forest of silky hair. She suckled a brown male nipple and explored the rippled expanse of his abdomen. He groaned long and low and deep and she had the sudden urge to drop to her knees in front of him and love him with her mouth the way he’d loved her. He was all hard muscle and hot skin and she wanted him so much.

  More than she wanted her next breath.

  The realization jerked Deanie back to reality just as her fingers grazed the bulge beneath his shorts. She froze and his hand covered hers. She expected him to urge her on. She wanted him
to, to take the decision away from her. The responsibility. The regret.

  He let his hand fall away from hers and he simply stared at her for several heart pounding moments. Fierce, golden eyes drilled into hers as he waited for her to make her choice, to act on it.

  She wanted to.

  More than she wanted her next breath.

  “It’s getting really late,” she blurted. Her hand fell away and she curled her fingers as she stepped back, despite her body, that urged her the other way. Back into his arms.

  Her cell phone rang from the nightstand where she’d left it, the sound barely pushing past the thunder of her own heart. The pain of crying herself to sleep every night after he’d left and the fear that she would never, ever feel so strongly for someone again swirled together and fought against the desire that burned deep inside.

  Her cell phone continued to ring.

  “You should really go,” she told him.

  “If that’s what you want.” His gaze held hers and he reached out, his hand touching her cheek. “Is that what you want, Deanie? What you really want?”

  “Yes.” At that moment, it was what she really wanted. She needed him to leave before she lost her control and threw herself into his arms.

  Before she lost herself.

  “Okay.” But he didn’t sound the least bit okay. He sounded angry and disappointed and, oddly enough, hurt.

  He leaned down, gave her a rough kiss, and then he walked away and left Deanie with her pride still intact.

  The damnable thing was, she didn’t feel half as relieved as she should have.

  Instead, she felt alone. Lonely.

  She didn’t give herself a chance to dwell on the notion. She closed the door and went to retrieve her cell phone which had stopped ringing only to start again, as if the person on the other end hadn’t been the least bit content to leave a message.

  Deanie glanced at the caller ID and worry, along with a hefty dose of surprise, rushed through her.

  “Miss Eloise?”

  “Deanie? Is that you, honey?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Praise be to Jesus! Why, I just knew you’d been snatched up by one of those cannibals and turned into someone’s lunch.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Despite all the fancy pants stuff the world is into, there are still primitive tribes in existence. Why, I saw this group called the Jiminy Crickets, or something like that, who actually baste and barbecue any stranger who disturbs their sacred hunting ground. Speaking of hunting, I wished you would have taken old Junior, here.” Junior was Eloise’s late husband’s prizewinning duck dog. He’d turned fifteen last year and the only title he’d won recently was for oldest canine in the county. “I would feel so much better knowing you were protected.” A loud bark sounded in the background and Miss Eloise paused to baby talk the ancient animal. “Then again,” she finally continued, “if they’ll eat a dear, sweet girl like you, they would probably go nuts for my Junior. Have you got Mace?”

  “They don’t allow Mace on the airplane.”

  “What about a can of Aqua Net? I was watching Court TV the other day and they had a case where this woman used a can of the stuff on a would-be rapist and it damn near blinded him. The key is to aim right for the pupil.”

  “I’m fine, Miss Eloise.”

  “At least that’s true for one of us.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Harwin says Betty Lou needs new shocks. An entire set.”

  Betty Lou was Miss Eloise’s 1972 Cadillac. The car was older than Deanie herself, but in mint condition. Eloise’s late husband had loved the automobile almost as much as he’d loved Miss Eloise herself. At least that had been the gossip down at the Fat Cow Diner when he’d opted to wash and wax the car rather than take Miss Eloise out for their fiftieth anniversary. Miss Eloise hadn’t been too fond of Betty Lou after that. But then her husband had died and the car had been all she’d had left of him, and so the two females had warmed up to each other.

  “I just put a new set of shocks on her last year,” Deanie said.

  “I told Harwin that, but he said you didn’t do it right.” She paused. “And he also said that I might have hit too many potholes.”

  “Did you hit a lot?”

  “One, give or take a few.”

  “How few?”

  “Maybe six or seven.”

  “Miss Eloise, you have to be careful. The car rides low. You’ll bottom out.”

  “I know that, honey. That’s why I try my best to go around them, but they always seem to snag that front left tire.”

  “Then Harwin should try changing the front left connecting shocks first before replacing them all. An entire new set is going to cost you—”

  “—my teeth money,” the old woman retorted. “I’ve been saving all year for a new set of dentures.”

  “Shocks don’t cost quite that much, Miss Eloise.”

  “They do if they’re being accompanied by a new muffler.”

  “What’s wrong with your muffler?”

  “It got jarred loose when I hit the pothole over on Main and Divine. The one in front of the dry cleaners.”

  “There’s no pothole there.”

  “There is now on account of Wilda Jean was getting a new press iron and the delivery people dropped it and made a crack in the asphalt. And then I came along and, well, you know how heavy Betty Lou is. So now there’s a pothole and I won’t be able to get my teeth in time for the Easter Jubilee down at the Bingo Hall. They serve the best brown sugar ham and now I won’t be able to have any and—”

  “What about a payment plan?” It was Deanie’s turn to interrupt. “Just tell Harwin to sign you up for one of Big Daddy’s installment options. That way you can still get your shocks and your dentures.”

  “There are no more installment plans. Harwin did away with them and Big Daddy’s going along with it.”

  “You’re kidding?”

  Miss Eloise sniffled. “We’re talking the brown sugar ham with the glazed pineapple rings on top and the little maraschino cherries.”

  “You’re not kidding.” Miss Eloise had two passions in life—watching television and eating—and she didn’t joke about either. “I’m sorry, Miss Eloise.”

  “Now, now, I know it’s not your fault. It’s not like you can just throw your life away because me and the girls down at the seniors’ center need you. You’re young. You’ve got your entire life ahead of you. You shouldn’t be burdened by a bunch of old women. Why, we can fend for ourselves just fine. Don’t you even worry about us. It’s not like I can’t gum a few pieces of ham if I set my mind to it. I’ll still get all the flavor. Don’t you even worry about it.”

  Okay, so Miss Eloise had three passions in life—watching television, eating and laying major guilt trips.

  “I’ll call and talk to Big Daddy for you. Maybe he’ll make an exception.”

  “No, no, honey. Why, I would never dream of being such a bother. I just needed to vent. When you get old, there aren’t as many people around when you need to talk.”

  “I’d like to try to help.”

  “Don’t you fret over me. You just go on about your business. This is your time to be young, honey. To enjoy yourself, even if it is a long ways away from those of us who love you dearly.”

  The old woman was right.

  Deanie came to that conclusion a half hour after she’d said goodbye to Miss Eloise. She’d taken a cold shower, pulled on her soft cotton “comfort” T-shirt and sweats, and stretched out on the bed. This was her time to be young and she should be enjoying it.

  Instead, she was channel surfing and eating a bag of Oreos she’d purchased from the minibar.

  She glanced at the remote in one hand and the cookie in the other. It was every Friday night she’d ever spent all over again. Granted, she’d actually had a date earlier, and an orgasm, but now she was right back to acting like the old Deanie, despite the fact that Rance still wanted her and she still w
anted him.

  Want.

  It didn’t have to go beyond that if she didn’t let it. If she cut herself off emotionally from the sex and kept her feelings locked up tight.

  Then she could enjoy herself for the next thirteen hours. Couldn’t she?

  She could.

  She would.

  She was tired of fantasizing. She wanted the real thing. The real man. Just for a little while. Deep down, she knew no matter where she went, or how hard she searched, or how many low cut dresses she wore, she would never meet another man like Rance McGraw.

  He was a one-of-a-kind.

  Her first love.

  Her last.

  She ignored the thought and threw her legs over the side of the bed. This wasn’t about love. It was all about sex. About having sex.

  Deanie peeled off her clothes, pulled on her sundress—minus the undies again—and reached for her shoes. She glanced at the clock and entertained a rush of anxiety that quickly fed her determination.

  Stashing her key card in her one and only pocket, she left the hotel room and went in search of Rance.

  IT TOOK DEANIE nearly an hour before she finally found him on a deserted stretch of beach far enough from the resort that she was actually out of breath by the time she reached him. She’d walked the entire resort before she’d seen the blonde who’d shown them to the waterfall room at The Falls. The girl had pointed her in the right direction. Deanie had been skeptical as she’d passed the guest bungalows and traded the lights of the resort for a full moon and a star-dusted sky. But then she’d spotted him sitting on the beach.

  He wore only his cowboy hat and his board shorts. His chest was bare, his shoulders broad. His shirt lay in a heap next to his flip-flops. Muscles rippled as he tossed a sea shell into the retreating surf.

  Music drifted from the far distance, but otherwise, the only sound was the lull of the waves against the beach and the pounding of Deanie’s heart.

  She braced herself against any lingering doubts, held tight to her desire and stepped in front of him.