Naked Pursuit

by Jill Monroe

  Stella choked back a laugh. “Don’t worry, I’m not about to profess something undying here. I’m not even sure I believe in instalove, but I do understand instalust, and man, oh, man, do I have that.”

  Before she could fumble out another word, she was in his arms. Enveloped in lean male muscle and woodsy cologne and an ocean of want and need. Stella met his lips, her mouth opening for a kiss so hot and amazing her entire body yielded to desire.

  He hooked his arm behind her knees and then swooped her into his arms. “I thought you weren’t going to carry me?” she teased, then sucked his earlobe into her mouth.

  “This isn’t exactly a regulation procedure,” he told her.

  He placed her on the soft comforter of the luxurious king-size bed and stretched out beside her. Then his mouth was on hers. Their previous kisses had been explorations, the teasing and tentative first kisses of new attraction. But now, Owen kissed her with hunger and passion and deep, deep need.

  She rolled to her back and he settled between the V of her legs. She felt the hardness of his cock through her leggings and his jeans. In moments, he’d released the top buttons that hadn’t flown off her shirt when she’d ordered him to rip it apart. He shoved her bra out of his way and she moaned when his hands touched skin.

  “I can’t wait to taste you. Taste all of you,” he groaned into the side of her neck.

  Stella tried to sear that sexy, guttural sound into her memory so it could never escape. But that tiny, troubling doubt poked at her again. “It would be awful to not remember this.”

  “We have the notes,” he reminded her, and his lips lowered to her nipple, drawing it into the warmth of his mouth and making her ache.

  But she could potentially wake up next to a naked man with no idea who he was or how she got there. Disconcerting didn’t even describe that idea.

  Stella squeezed her eyes shut. Ugh, all she wanted to do was enjoy this moment. To hold something so amazing and sensual in the vault of her mind so she could dust off the memory and relive it when she was deep into a shift and needed something to remind her that she was a living, breathing woman.

  He circled her nipple with his tongue. This. Why couldn’t she just simply enjoy this? But uncertainty still prodded her. “No, I know me. I’d yell first and ask questions later. I’d grab my clothes and race from this hotel and try never to think about it again. Or what if you wake up first and decide to get the hell out? Waking up alone with no memory might actually be worse.”

  “I wouldn’t run,” he assured her, then drew the tip of her nipple into his mouth again.

  “Mmmmm.” What was she protesting about? Oh, yeah. “Sure, you say that now.”

  He lifted his head and pinned her with his gaze. “If it makes you feel any better, I do have handcuffs in my duffel bag. We’d have to talk to each other. At least until I got them off.”

  “Why would that make me feel better?”

  “You’re worried I’ll be gone in the morning. I can’t leave if I’m handcuffed to you.”

  A rush of satisfaction made her smile. “So you want to see me in the morning? Not that I’m judging you for hooking up or anything.” Could she stop herself from rambling? “I mean, clearly I’ve hooked up with you. It’s just that I’d like to think that it’s more.” Nope, she couldn’t stop the rambling. “Believe me, I understand. I’ve taken enough biology classes to understand the imperative to—”

  The stubble on his cheek tickled her breasts as he skimmed up her body until they were nose to nose. His hazel eyes were dark once more. And serious. “Stella, I want to wake up in the morning with you. Order room service and have breakfast, then take you back to bed and stay here with you until we have to eat again.”

  “You have a way of convincing a girl. So why do you have handcuffs in your bag? Is that part of your normal, um, repertoire? Not that I’m against them or anything, but I just need to rearrange my thinking a little bit. You know...in case.”

  “It goes with being a firefighter. And did you just say ‘in case’?”

  “I’m still a little confused. Are cuffs part of the job? I don’t really remember that on the tour of the fire station I took in the third grade.”

  He rolled off her body and began to trace light patterns on her skin with his index finger. “Sometimes couples need help getting out of their restraints, so they call 911. Firefighters usually take those emergencies.”

  “And this happens a lot?”

  He shrugged. “Well, a lot more since that book came out. After your first restraint release, the other guys sort of gift you with a pair.”

  “Like a ceremony?”

  “More like, uh, friendly hazing.”

  She held out her right hand. “Okay, cuff me.”

  His finger stilled. “That’s the sexiest damn thing you’ve said. And you’ve said some damn sexy things.”

  “Ha-ha. You’re getting cuffed, too, buddy.”

  He scooted off the bed and then lifted her until he’d flung her over his shoulder. He carried her back into the sitting room.

  “I thought you weren’t going to demonstrate the fireman hold until I showed you my note.”

  “You complaining?”

  As she had a pretty good view of his ass... “Nope.”

  He placed her gently on her feet next to the small table where he’d dumped his duffel bag. She lowered her bra into place and refastened the top buttons.

  “Why do you insist on ruining all my best work?” he asked. The metallic rip of the zipper sounded as he opened the bag, and she watched as he dug around neatly folded clothes and socks.

  “Your best work?”

  “I’ve had you nearly undressed twice now.” He tugged out a box of condoms.

  “Good thinking,” she said as he handed them to her. Then she shrugged. “I don’t know. I feel I should be clothed if I’m getting handcuffed.”

  “In our case, it’s the exact opposite.” He fumbled around until she heard the muffled sound of metal and he pulled out a pair of handcuffs. After zipping the bag closed, he placed the cuff around his wrist and clicked it in place.

  “You went first.”

  “A show of good faith,” he told her. “A gentleman always cuffs himself first. Milady?”

  She lifted a brow. “That’s the official etiquette in this situation?”

  He nodded. “If you’re uncomfortable...”

  Stella took a breath and held her wrist out to him. Then pulled it back. “Wait. You’re sure you have the key in there? As much as I like this firefighter tradition, I’d just as soon not be the cause of someone else earning his cuffs.”

  “Oh, the key’s in there. Besides, I’ve learned a few tricks on how to get out of restraints.”

  “You know how to keep a woman intrigued.” She held out arm again and he fastened the cuff around her wrist. Then she looped an arm around his neck as best she could while handcuffed to the man.

  His cock hardened against her thigh.

  “Show me more,” she urged.

  2

  “YOU HAD TO wear a shirt with buttons,” he said with a heavy sigh, his voice teasing.

  “I’m pretty sure a firefighter can figure it out.”

  “I could use both hands, but then I’d have to move yours. And I like your hand right where it is.”

  As her hand was cupped around the hard arc of his sexy butt, Stella wasn’t all that interested in moving it, either.

  Had she ever been with such a gorgeous man? Most of her romantic partners had been colleagues who, like her, subsisted on food from the vending machine with few hours spent at the gym. So tonight she’d treat herself by taking her sweet time touching, tasting and savoring this amazing male specimen.

  “I guess I could help you with my other hand.” She lifted her left arm and clasped the material surrounding the top button. Owen’s fingers brushed hers and their eyes met. Neither dropped their gaze as they freed the top button.

  Mmm, mmm, mmm. This was a new experien
ce. Men had unbuttoned her shirt before. She’d even stripped for a guy. But never had she and her partner worked together, as a team, to take off her top. It was somehow more intimate and personal. She didn’t do intimate. Or personal.

  They worked their way through buttons two and three. His knuckles brushed the newly exposed skin of her chest and stomach. She’d make an exception for personal this one time. Or all night.

  Button number four was where the blouse-ripping had begun, so when they reached that point, Owen slowly slid her top off her left shoulder and then the right. He smoothed the material down her body until it caught and dangled on the handcuff chain between them.

  His eyes crinkled in the corners and his gaze finally left hers to focus on the problem. “I guess we didn’t think this handcuff thing all the way through. I’ll go grab the key.”

  But she shook her head and twined her fingers through his. “Not yet. I like a challenge.”

  “Guess I should have played harder to get.”

  She shook her head again. “No. Just hard.”

  “That was kind of dirty talk, Doctor.” He brushed her lips with his. “I like it.” His voice was a delicious whisper that sent sparks of keen awareness along her nerve endings. Then Owen cupped her breast through the red silk of her bra, and it was like he’d lit her on fire.

  Stella’s entire body burned and craved more. Craved everything. Her nipple puckered against the soft material. He toyed with her, slow strokes with the pad of his thumb, and Stella sucked in a breath.

  Owen tugged on the strap of her bra. “I need to get you out of this,” he breathed into her neck. “And this time keep you out.”

  Another blast of sexual awareness pounded her senses. “Yes,” she said, her single word long and drawn out. She wanted to be naked. Right. Now.

  “I’ve never picked up a man,” she admitted. Not her style.

  He lifted his head from her neck. A small sexy smile tugged at his lower lip. “I thought I picked you up.”

  She shook her head. “Sorry to disappoint.”

  His smile deepened. “Believe me, not a disappointment.”

  She laughed, and it made her feel good. Light. Carefree. It had been so long since she’d been wrapped in the strong arms of a gorgeous man. Not that any guy in her past equaled the sheer appeal of this man. Rugged and sexy. Capable and sensual. Owen was built like a man who knew how to work his body.

  Even though she’d met him only a few hours ago, she clicked with him. Strange. She rarely formed attachments to people so quickly. Her med school training had taught her not to put a lot of stock in first impressions, but instead to form judgments based on interaction and fact. But with Owen it was all impressions and feelings and gut reactions.

  “I need two hands to work the clasp of this bra and I don’t want to contort your arm and hurt you.”

  This was no passive encounter; she was a full participant in the baring of her body to his eyes. Her every sense was heightened. All her nerve endings quickened at his touch.

  She helped him out and the clasp finally, finally gave. He smoothed the material away with his palms. Stella shivered from the heat of his fingers.

  His breath came out in a heavy groan. “You are beautiful, Stella.”

  “So are you,” she told him as she traced the lean muscles of his chest. A puckered scar wrapped around his rib cage. A burn?

  “We should get the key now because in another minute, I’m not going to care.” Owen’s hands dove into his overnight bag, stopping every few seconds to drop a quick kiss on her lips. Her nose. Her forehead.

  After a few moments, he settled his hands on her shoulders and stared directly into her eyes, his gaze intent and focused and filled with desire. “Clearly I need my full concentration to find this thing,” he said.

  She nodded her understanding. Stella watched the play of muscles on his back as he bent down to the bag. She couldn’t stop herself from stealing a caress of his bicep or leaning in to catch the woodsy outdoors scent he carried with him.

  His movements became more frantic. He unzipped pockets and felt in the corners of the bag. “Those jerks.”

  “What?”

  “Well, they left me the cuffs but not the key.”

  Her gaze flew to the cute black-and-white top she’d worn. Sadly, it would now be a casualty to sex. The sound of ripping fabric filled the air as she tore at the seam from hem to sleeve. Her ruined top fell silently to the carpeted floor.

  “That’s one way to handle it,” he said, a smile lightening his face.

  “The bra’s going to be a problem,” she warned.

  “I have a pocketknife in my jeans.”

  “Do it.” He dug in his pants until he pulled out a small, yet serviceable knife. She hissed in a breath when his fingers grazed along the sensitive skin of her shoulder. Who knew her skin was so susceptible to touch? No, this man’s touch.

  He lifted the strap and slid the blade underneath.

  “Wait.”

  He instantly stopped. Did he think she was having second thoughts? Now?

  Ha—as if she would ask him to leave her bra right where it was. “Cut in the middle of the strap. That way I can tie it in the morning.”

  With a few efficient moves he freed her bra from the chain between them. She tossed the bra aside and watched as it landed on the dresser in the bedroom.

  “Hold out your hand, and I’ll cut off the band they put on us at the testing center.”

  He did so and she returned the favor. Then she focused all of her attention back on the sexy hot man in front of her.

  Owen pulled her into his arms. “I believe you were licking my ear and talking dirty.”

  “Pretty talented, aren’t I? I can lick and talk at the same time,” she teased. He was about to reply, but she silenced him when she traced her tongue along his ear and sucked the lobe into her mouth. “Does this give you any ideas?” she asked after a moment.

  He nodded. “Too many good ones.” His free hand caressed and stroked her breast, then moved lower. Butterflies flapped to attention inside her stomach as his fingers rubbed the bare skin above her leggings. He dipped his hand between her legs, stroking and teasing her through her underwear until her legs grew weak.

  “Owen, you have to slow down,” she moaned into his neck.

  Stroke.

  Her clit grew heavy and tingly. “This feels too good.”

  “Nothing can feel too good,” he told her, nibbling at the tender skin above her collarbone.

  Stroke.

  Her inner muscles began to clamp deliciously.

  “Owen, I’m going to come too soon.”

  Strooookkkke.

  “Then you can come again,” he said, his voice tight.

  But Stella also had a free hand, and she could play the tormenting game, too. She trailed her fingers down the hard ridge of muscle lining his spine, then smoothed her palms along the ridged rows of muscle on his stomach until she found the waistband of his jeans. His cock was a long ridge beneath the zipper and she quickly freed him. He sprang into her hand. Smooth and hard. She circled the head of his cock with her thumb. She’d meant only to torment him the way he was tormenting her, but feeling the evidence of his desire for her made Stella want him to plunge inside her. Fill her. Thrust until they both came.

  “I don’t want to wait, Owen.”

  “Yeah. No, I—”

  She cut off his words by dragging him to the large bay window in the bedroom. Below, a large, beautiful courtyard with lights in the trees and a meandering path through flowers beckoned lovers for a late-night stroll. But not these lovers. No, Stella wanted only to be alone with this man in the bedroom of this amazing suite.

  With a press of her finger, a filmy curtain drifted down. The street lights faded but the glow of the Dallas skyline still filtered through. Stella dropped to the curved bench beneath the window, the diamond-tufted cushion soft beneath her back.

  “Here,” she urged. “Make love to me here.”
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  Owen’s eyes flared, but she couldn’t read his expression in the now darkened room.

  He reached for the band of her leggings at her waist. He groaned as he slid her pants down her legs. “Those are the sexiest damn panties I’ve ever seen.”

  She was kind of partial to the black scalloped lace herself. Stella wore nothing but scrubs all day, every day, so she needed the feel of silk and lace on her skin. Actually, right now she needed the feel of this man’s hands back on her skin. She lifted her hips to help him draw her panties down.

  “Just like that,” he said, and his finger brushed along the curls between her legs.

  “Hmm?”

  “When I’m inside you, I want you to meet me just like this.”

  Could she come because of a man’s words? But the thought fled from her mind quickly, replaced by the all-consuming images of his hard length deep inside her, stroking her as she raised her hips to meet his every thrust.

  Owen reached for one of the wrapped condoms.

  “Here, let me.” She tore the top of the package off, then grasped his cock, caressing him softly. She watched his face in the dim light as she touched him. His eyes were closed, his jaw tight with need. He stroked her with the barest of touches as she slid the condom in place. Slowly.

  “Now that’s how to put on a condom,” he told her with a half groan.

  Stella laughed, feeling carefree and sexy and so, so needy.

  His free hand clasped her chin. He caressed her cheek with his thumb.

  “You ready?” he asked.

  So ready.

  Stella nodded and he stepped between her legs, grabbed her by the hips and pulled her ass to the end of the cushioned bench seat. He teased her clit with the pad his thumb. “You’re so wet.”

  She shivered at his touch, and then he slipped his finger inside her at an agonizingly slow pace. Stella sucked in a breath as delicious tingles bombarded her body. But as desperate as she was to have him buried deep inside her so she could lose herself in the powerful wave of sex, it had been a long time for her. She hadn’t had a boyfriend since she’d started med school, and...wow, had it really been over two years? She began to count in her—