by Vivi Anna, Sylvia Day, Delilah Devlin, Cathryn Fox, Myla Jackson, Lisa Renee Jones
Then he turned and walked away.
Two
She called after the stranger as he walked away. “How’d you know I was out here?”
But he didn’t turn, didn’t answer.
Jessica sat there, fretting. Had she not wished for an opportunity to be alone with the very man who just welcomed her to his room? A man who offered to spare her a scary night alone in a car, under a tree, in an electrical storm?
Then thunder boomed overhead. She jumped and reached for the door.
Somehow, a night alone with her sexy stranger sounded better than a night alone in her car. Not thinking, just acting, she stomped through the rain, her purse the only item she carried with her.
Once she was at room 112, she stood before the door, dripping wet, hair stuck to her face and stared at the number sign. Maybe this was a bad idea? What if he was a serial killer, or a rapist, or…
The door opened.
Her mouth dropped. There stood her stranger with no shirt on, looking like a poster for the world’s sexiest man. His hair hung in damp strands around his face, barely brushing the tops of his muscular shoulders. He held a towel in his hand and interest in his eyes.
“Come in,” he said, stepping backward and holding the door open for her. For the first time she realized he had a distinct Hispanic accent. Not too strong, but evident enough to slip into her mind and entice a response.
She was so soaked in rainwater that she literally dripped.
“I’m wet,” she said, feeling the need to state the obvious.
He smiled, a slow, sensual smile that said he read into her words. “Thanks for the warning.” He held up his towel, offering it to her. “I think we’ll manage.”
The room was lit by only one small light. In a quick glance over his shoulder, Jessica took in the shadows created by the light dancing seductively on the walls. She barely glanced at the rest of the room, so mesmerized was she by this man. One thing she was now certain of, he was alone.
Licking the wetness from her lips, she accepted the towel, the intimacy of sharing it hard to ignore. Rubbing her hair, she stepped tentatively through the doorway.
His eyes, dark and mysteriously sexy, followed her path. He stood directly in front of her and didn’t seem inclined to move. Arm reaching over her shoulder, he pushed the door shut.
The action put him so close their faces came mere inches apart. The towel was forgotten. She could feel him even without ever physically claiming to touch. His scent, a woodsy, clean smell wrapped around her, enhancing the feeling of invisible touches.
Their eyes locked. Slowly, he took the towel from her hand and wrapped it around her, holding it on either side of her body and cocooning them together. “I’m glad you decided to come inside, mi Hermosa.”
She gulped. He had said something complimentary in Spanish. She knew that much. And for some reason, it really got to her. Someone else could have said those words and they just wouldn’t have set her on fire the way they did from him.
Soft, sexy and incredible arousing, his voice danced along her nerve endings. She reached for words, struggling to speak coherently. “I’m still not sure I should be here.”
“No?” he asked, his eyes searching her face. “I think you want to be here.” He let the towel rest on her shoulders and ran a finger down her cheek.
The touch should have scared her. The whole situation should have. Instead, she felt oddly exhilarated; in fact, she had never felt so alive and eager. Eager for what? was the question. A question she definitely wanted answered.
A tiny little light flickered in her mind. Maybe this man, this incredibly alluring stranger, held within him a means of escape from her past. Alone in a hotel with a man she hardly knew wasn’t her style. But then neither was divorce.
Circumstances had delivered her here, alone in a motel room, with a man as sexy as any of her best fantasies. Looking into this man’s obsidian eyes, she began to wonder if he could take her beyond her insecurities.
This seemed a rare opportunity to find a new her. And damn, she needed a new her. She hated how her ex had made her feel. In her professional world, she knew how to put on a show. How to seem strong and secure. But when it came to intimacy between a man and a woman, the past didn’t let go. Insecurity ruled.
A knowing look slipped into her stranger’s eyes. He repeated his words, an edge of understanding now in his voice. “Yes,” he said softly. “You want to be here.”
For the first time, in far too long, everything woman in her was awake and alert. She wanted this man. She didn’t know his name, didn’t know a thing about him, but she wanted him. “I have to be here.”
One corner of his mouth lifted, and his finger slid down her neck. “Not so. You have choices.” He paused a beat. “You’re in no danger with me.” His eyes, which had been following the path of his finger, lifted to hers. She felt his hand settle around her neck, gently touching her. “Whatever you want, you can have without fear. Comprendes?”
She didn’t know what to say. His face was slowly descending, and her moment of decision was upon her. If she kissed him, she would want more. Did she want to? Could she abandon reason and fall into this man’s arms?
Head swimming in confusion and desire, she couldn’t think. Just knowing his lips were about to be upon hers, she felt her nipples harden and throb. Wet and now aroused, they pressed against her bra, begging to be touched. The feeling sent a wave of heat across her skin and settled with a not-so-subtle impact between her thighs.
She wanted this. She wanted him.
His lips lingered above hers, breath mingled with her own, teasing her anticipation. And she understood the purpose. Understood his hesitation was a question.
Yes or no?
Thoughts, fears and a few remnants of logic raced through her mind. It was her body, though, that held the answer. Desire and physical need was controlling her, not rational thought. She let her purse slide off her shoulder, onto the ground. Then, she inched forward ever so slightly and pressed her lips to his.
Her decision was made.
It was a gentle kiss, lips pressed to lips.
He leaned back and looked at her and then whispered something in Spanish before feathering kisses on her lips. One, two, three…. and then he dipped his tongue into her mouth. She felt the light brush of it against her own. She whimpered.
Jessica’s eyes fell shut and he slowly, perfectly, seduced her with his kiss. Hands at her sides, she longed to touch him. He closed the remaining space between their bodies, bringing them thigh-to-thigh and hip-to-hip.
Proof of his arousal pressed against her stomach. A thought, provocative and arousing, danced in her head.
He was hard for her.
It was an empowering realization. This sexy man wanted her. She had aroused him, made him hot for her. Suddenly, a one-night stand, no strings attached, felt liberating.
Her hands went to his waist, and the feel of his skin under her palms ignited the need to feel more. She touched him freely then, feeling the flex of muscles under her palms.
She wanted him. Really wanted him, like she had never wanted before. What was so wrong with that? It had been so very long since she had felt such need, such heat. Maybe she never had. He deepened the kiss, and a heavier fog of desire built, threatening to consume her.
No, she had never felt this kind of arousal before. It was as if a magnetic force pulled her to him, making her yearn to feel his body next to hers.
And they had only just begun.
His power to make her ache in places he didn’t touch was nothing short of amazing. This was new. This was incredible. This couldn’t be missed.
To hell with her conservative, good-girl lifestyle. For once in her life, she wanted to let go and feel. If her ex-husband had made her feel these things…she shoved the thought away. Thinking of him, her past, might mess with her head and rattle her confidence and cool the desire her Zorro was so effectively building.
Instead, she sank int
o the kiss, sliding her palms up his back. Giving into the need to be closer to him, she pressed her chest to his, her nipples aching sweetly as they brushed against him.
He held her close, touching her face, her hair, her neck. Gentle caresses etched with sensuality and tenderness. This was not a man who acted as if he wanted only sex.
He was a man intent on making love.
And she was intent on experiencing all he had to offer.
He pulled back slightly, softly wiping the wetness from her bottom lip with his thumb and then taking her hand in his. “Come, mi Hermosa, you are going to catch cold. We must get you out of those wet clothes.”
Heart racing at mega speed, she let him lead her across the room. When they were in the bathroom, standing at the sink, he turned her to face the mirror. He stood so close to her, she could feel his hardness pressing against her bottom.
What would he do next? Nervous anticipation laced with excitement had her trembling ever so slightly. Not knowing what to expect from him should have frightened her. Instead, it seemed to heighten the excitement.
Using the towel, which he still held in one hand, he began drying her hair. “I noticed your hair back at the bar.”
Her eyes lifted, locking with his in the mirror. “You did?”
“I noticed a lot of things,” he said, tossing the towel on the counter.
Her eyes widened. “Like?”
One of his hands spread wide on her stomach. “There is loneliness in your eyes.”
“I choose to be alone,” she said defensively.
His hand inched its way upward and then stopped. “I have no doubt.” He studied her lips as if he wanted to kiss her and then slowly raised his eyes back to hers. “But not tonight.”
She digested his words. He was right. Not tonight. Tonight she wanted to be with him. But she didn’t have the courage to say it out loud.
His hand began inching upward again. She could feel anticipation building in her stomach and in the tingling between her legs. Where was that hand of his going?
Courage. She repeated the word several times in her mind, even as she fought through her sensual fog. “No,” she said softly. “Not tonight.”
Jessica wondered if he knew how much it had cost her to say those words. To admit she wanted to be here. How much she had to overcome to stay. Here. With him.
Somehow, she thought he might. His body knew hers in ways no one ever had. Could he read her so easily through and through?
His mouth settled at her temple, pressing lightly as his hand moved up the line of buttons on her shirt.
He unbuttoned it slowly, using both hands and then sliding the wet material off her shoulders. Tossing it on the counter, as he had the towel, he looked at her in the mirror.
Jessica stood facing her own reflection in a lacy black bra. She was covered, but not. Her attention shifted to him. She watched him in the mirror. His hands and eyes moved over her shoulders. The darkness of his skin against hers stirred something inside her.
“Such fair skin,” he murmured and then lifted his eyes to hers, clearly thinking the same thing she was. Their differences aroused him as well. Holding her gaze, he reached for the clasp at her back and unhooked her bra.
Nervously, her hands went to cover her breasts, holding the material in place. His hands slid up her back, warming her skin with their caress, as they returned to her shoulders. “It’s your choice,” he said.
Nerves and old fears were haunting her. Her ex-husband’s harsh words about her sexual performance, and even her body, were like demons in her head. But she wanted this man. He made her feel sexy and adventurous.
And she wanted to be all that and more.
Wanted it with all her heart and soul. The ghost of the past was destroying her, and she wanted them gone. “No,” Jessica said, though her voice quivered. “I don’t want a shirt. I want this.” Her hands dropped, and she shrugged out of the bra. Moments later it lay with her shirt.
She didn’t look in the mirror, averting her eyes downward, as she took a deep breath to calm her nerves. She could feel him looking at her.
“You are truly lovely.” His fingers ran down her neck, but still she didn’t look up. “Such full, beautiful breasts. And your nipples…” He stopped speaking, and she looked into the mirror, locking eyes with him. She could see the depths of his arousal in his eyes.
He looked down at her nipples. “They are very aroused, are they not?” He looked back up at her. “Because you are cold or because you are thinking about what I might do to them?”
She wasn’t used to talking about this type of thing. Her ex’s words raced through her head. Boring, sexless. “I’m…not cold.”
One of his hands ran the length of her hair, and his lips nuzzled the sensitive spot behind her ear. “Meaning, you are thinking of what I might do to you?”
Her lashes fluttered. “Yes,” she whispered.
“Open your eyes, mi Hermosa.” She forced herself to comply, meeting his gaze. “Now. Tell me what you want me to do to you. Wht is your desire?”
Three
Tell him what she wanted him to do? She’d never told a man what to do during lovemaking. She clenched her teeth at the words and corrected herself. This was sex. Just sex. The thought of telling this man what she desired, both scared and excited her. She swallowed and wet her lips. “I…I don’t know.”
His eyes narrowed in reprimand. Bringing his mouth to her ear, he nipped her earlobe ever so gently. “Yes, you do. Tell me.”
Their eyes locked in the mirror yet again. His face was still low, cheek pressed to hers. She could smell him, enticingly male with a hint of spice. Her senses were so alive she could still taste him, even though it had been long minutes since they kissed.
There were so many things she could do with this man. “I want…”
“You want what?” he asked as his hands moved back to her stomach. “Tell me. You want what?” He repeated the words.
“Touch me.” Jessica’s voice was barely audible.
“I am touching you.”
“No.” She swallowed, no, gulped. “Touch my…breasts.”
He didn’t so much as hesitate. His hands cupped her breasts, taking their weight and ever so softly kneading. But he didn’t touch her nipples, and she knew it was on purpose. He was teasing her and it was working. Her nipples ached, begging for relief. For satisfaction.
“Like this?” he asked.
“No.” He started to move his hands, but she covered them with her own. “I mean yes, but…”
His brows inched up in the mirror. “Tell me what you want.”
She took a deep breath. What she wanted was the courage to be bold and spicy and everything a sexy woman would be with a man like this. “Touch my nipples.”
He murmured something in Spanish, kissing her neck and then lightly pinching her nipples between his fingers. She moaned as a rush of sensation washed over her.
Her nipples throbbed with painful bliss, his hands now more diligent in their exploration. No longer was he holding back, waiting on her. He seemed to be acting on his own needs.
Jessica’s head fell back on his shoulder as ripples of pleasure controlled her, forcing her eyelids to her cheeks.
Unexpectedly, she felt herself lifted and turned. Now, sitting on the counter, eyes open, she found him at her feet, removing her shoes. It was an incredibly erotic sight, him at her feet, hair half dry and shirtless.
Sliding up her body, hands trailing up her calves and thighs, he seduced her perfectly, teasing her with what was to come. He brought his mouth to hers, kissing her with slow, erotic strokes that made her feel as if she might melt from the heated need building in her body.
Never, ever, had she been kissed the way he was now kissing her. Arms wrapped around his neck, she was lost in him, kissing him with equal hunger.
Against her lips, he asked, “When was the last time you had an orgasm, mi Hermosa?”
Her ex had never cared if she came or not.
He blamed her if she couldn’t, and that was always. “Does a vibrator count?”
He laughed, a deep, sexy sound. “No, but that answers my question.” Leaning back he looked into her eyes. “Tonight you will have many.”
Jessica’s eyes went wide as her stranger’s words replayed in her head. Tonight you will have many. She’d never had an orgasm that wasn’t self-induced. She would have told him as much, but he moved, distracting her. His mouth had found its way to her nipple, and he was doing a delicious combination of licking, suckling and nibbling.
She allowed herself the luxury of doing what she had longed to do for hours. Her fingers sunk into his wonderful mass of hair. Even as she laced her fingers into his silky strands, she moaned. His mouth was doing such deliciously perfect things to her body.
With each suckle, she felt it not only in her breasts but between her legs. There was no question, she was beyond wet. After equal time devoted to each nipple, he moved to eye level with her. He nipped at her lips, ran his tongue along her bottom lip. She was reaching for him, wanting more, as he in turn reached for her pants.
“I am falling down on the job,” he said in a deeper voice than before. “You still have wet clothes on.”
More than willing to get undressed, she lifted her hips to allow him to slide her slacks and panties down her legs. Hands on her thighs, he inched her legs apart. She sat there, nude, legs spread wide and became his eye candy. For long moments, he took her in, eyes growing hotter, more potent. It felt as if his hands were on her, touching her. But it was only those eyes, those amazingly dark, expressive eyes.
Unbelievably, she felt empowered and sexy rather than shy or awkward, as she would have felt with her ex. This stranger made her more comfortable, yet at the same time more turned on and excited, than her ex or any other man ever had.
“I want you,” she said boldly, proud of how confident her voice sounded.
He tilted his head ever so slightly, studying her, assessing and probing. Then he smiled. “And you shall have me, mi Hermosa.” His fingers began walking up her inner thighs. “As I shall have you.”