by Amy Andrews
“I’m thirty years old and I’ve developed quite a good sixth sense for members of the opposite sex and you don’t tweak my radar at all. At least not in a bad way.” She grinned at him with what was almost a leer before her smile turned indulgent. “But…” She glanced at the bartender. “Mike?”
Mike, who’d been slicing lemons looked over his shoulder then ambled toward them. “What can I get you?”
She ignored his question. “Do you know this guy?” She tipped her head at Reuben.
Mike eyed Reuben up and down clearly bemused by the question. “Yes, ma’am. Known him most of my life.”
“So, would you say it’s okay for me to take him back to my hotel room and do dirty, unspeakable things to his body without fear of him chopping me into little pieces and poking them down the drain hole in the bathtub?”
Reuben wasn’t sure if Mike was more shocked by the detail of the question or the fact she’d been so frank. But he got over his shock quickly with a bark of laughter. “I think you’ve got to worry more about his—” Mike wiggled his little finger at her with a grin. “And his rumored lack of err…” He dropped his voice. “Staying power than any homicidal tendencies.”
“Thanks, dude,” Reuben said as he left and Vivian laughed. Clearly Mike needed to be more like Mike right now.
“You need any more convincing?” she asked, but before he could answer she leaned in and pressed her lips against his in a brief, yet somehow cataclysmic, kiss. Pulling away, she offered him her hand. “Shall we?”
And it was that easy. Just the way Reuben liked it.
Draining the rest of his beer, he threw some bills on the bar for Mike who grinned and saluted and then he slipped his hands into hers and stood.
*
Reuben let her lead the way. He may have been at this hotel quite a lot over the years but he’d never gone past the bar and besides, Vivian’s back view was as delectable as her front. Her skirt fitted her nice, round ass like a glove and that curve from waist to thighs should have come with a hazard label. And the way those hips swung.
God…it was like staring at a hypnotist’s watch.
Then there were the stilettos. Shiny black with a tall spiky heel and the flash of a glossy, apple-red sole. And the way they emphasized her calves… They weren’t slender, but the heels gave them definition and Reuben couldn’t help but imagine how good they were going to feel locked around his hips and drumming into his ass cheeks when he made her come.
Which he planned on doing as many times as she wanted.
The doors of the elevator swished open as they approached and she sauntered to the deepest part, leaning on the wall to the right, her frank gaze fixed firmly on his body. Reuben stayed close to the doors and took the wall to the left putting her well beyond his reach. He’d want to touch if he got too close and elevators had cameras.
He ogled her though—thoroughly.
Whatever modicum of decorum he’d displayed in the bar due to the public nature of their discourse disappeared once the doors slid shut. His gaze drifted from the tips of those killer shoes all the way to the plump red pillows of her mouth, taking detours at every dip and rise in between. She met his gaze and Reuben wondered if the things she was thinking were as dirty as she’d promised.
His pulse was a slow pound in his chest, the blood in his veins viscous from the heat of his desire. The thud through his groin was a hot, thick throb.
Hell, his whole body throbbed.
“Could you press four, please?”
He reached over and pressed the button and the elevator started to move. “I don’t even know your last name,” he said.
Hell, truth be told, he didn’t even know if Vivian was her real name. It wasn’t like he’d asked her for ID. Although the thought of frisking her for some—turning her around and sliding that skirt up her legs—whispered hot and wicked through his blood.
She just smiled and said, “Exciting isn’t it?”
Reuben couldn’t deny that the unknown did add a certain kick to the already heightened sexuality. “You like a little mystery?” Maybe it was her thing. Her…kink. Anonymous hotel sex.
She shrugged. “What’s wrong with just being Vivian and Reuben and leaving it at that? I’m going to be gone tomorrow and we’ll only have this. Does the rest really matter?”
Maybe it should. But right now, at the end of a shitty weekend with a sexy woman primed to do dirty things, all Reuben cared about was that she’d chosen him.
He shook his head. “Nope.”
The elevator shuddered beneath his feet and dinged. The door slid open and, once again, she led and he followed, his eyes never leaving her ass. His breath quickened despite her unhurried (deliberate, he assumed) pace and he wished for a brief moment the subtly lit corridor went for miles so he could admire it for a bit longer. But then she slowed and stopped in front of room 426, smiling over her shoulder at him, and Reuben could not get inside quick enough.
Placing one hand on the door handle, she slid her other hand inside the open neck of her blouse before pulling it out again to reveal the plastic key card Reuben assumed had been stashed in her bra.
“Handy,” he murmured, moving in close and nuzzling her temple, as she inserted the thin rectangular piece of plastic into the lock. He liked that she wasn’t short. Sure the heels added some height but, at a couple of inches over six foot, it made a change not to have to dip his head.
Reuben slid his hand to her hip and pulled her gently against him until there was zero distance between his front and her back and every cell in his body hummed like an electrical substation.
“God,” she muttered, her forehead pressed into the door as she rubbed her ass against Reuben’s already painfully hard erection. “You feel good.”
His groin surged. “Open the damn door, Vivian.”
Responding quickly to his low, urgent growl, her hand and knee pushed the heavy door open and they stumbled inside, Reuben turning Viv and pushing her against the nearest wall. He didn’t bother with the lights or small talk or a discussion on their sexual likes and dislikes. He just kissed the hell out of her red, red mouth and the way she moaned, “Yes,” and wound her arms around his neck told him all he needed to know.
He’d been perfectly fine with her being the sexual aggressor in the bar. A more than willing participant in the flirtation she’d initiated. But now he was here, Reuben did not need any leading.
Hot, molten lust surged through his system at the first touch of her lips to his and he let it go wild. She tasted like beer and red lipstick and she smelled like lemon drops—sweet and tangy—and he wanted to devour every inch of her. His tongue stroked into her mouth and met hers, which played an erotic game of hide-and-seek that shot a bolt of heat straight to his dick.
Reuben’s head reverberated with the deafening wash of his pulse and the harsh suck of their breathing, which was crazy loud in the silence of the room. His hands slid down and squeezed her ass, jamming the juncture of her thighs right against the hard ridge of his cock and she cried out, breaking their kiss as she clutched at his arms.
“God.” She was panting hard. “I need you there. Now.” Then she ground into him leaving Reuben in little doubt what she’d meant by there.
He knew exactly how she felt and not just because of the glitter turning those nondescript brown eyes into something altogether feral, or the fine tremble of her muscles or the dark pitch of her voice. But because he felt it too.
This insane answering roar in his blood.
And it didn’t matter that there was a bed mere paces away or that not a single item of clothing had been removed or that they didn’t know each other at all.
Only being inside her mattered.
He reached down and rucked her skirt up her legs, at the same time her hand found his fly, yanking it down. The rip was like a shotgun in the dark, silent room causing him to fumble as he reached in his back pocket for his wallet and the condoms stashed inside.
“Hurry,” she
muttered as her hand found his aching length.
Reuben sucked in a breath and locked his knees to stop them from buckling as she pulled his erection out and palmed him. “Jesus…fuck,” he panted as his eyes practically rolled back. How could something bordering on painful feel so damn good?
“Mike was wrong,” she whispered against his throat, her tongue lapping at the shallow dip where his collarbones met.
Reuben grunted as he knocked her hand aside and applied the condom—a damn near impossible feat considering he could barely slip the room key between them. But he managed and she grabbed him again, bringing him to her center as he reached down to deal with her underwear only to find the warm silky feel of bare flesh.
Hell. She was commando.
He groaned as he pressed his forehead to hers. “You weren’t wearing any panties this whole time?”
“Nope,” she confirmed, her breath hitching as Reuben grabbed her leg, bending it at the knee, drawing it up and pressing her inner thigh to his hip to align their bodies. The brush of a stiletto heel against the side of his knee was like a testosterone bullet to his already overcharged system.
“I took them off in the bathroom when I spotted you at the bar.”
Reuben lifted his head and locked his eyes on hers as she slid him through the slick folds of her sex and notched him at her entrance. The tight heat of her taunted the throbbing head of his cock and he gritted his teeth at the perfect agony. “Did I have sure thing written in an invisible bubble over my head?”
“Nope.” She gave him a ghost of a smile as she lifted her hand to his face and traced his bottom lip with her index finger. “But I was hoping.” She squirmed a little, teasing him with the hot glove of her flesh as she wrapped her hands around his biceps.
Reuben’s hand slid to her other hip, steadying himself. “I don’t know what job you do but I bet you’re really good at it.”
She grinned. “The best.”
And then, his pulse spiking, Reuben thrust inside her. She cried out, her nails sinking into the backs of his arms, her head thunking back against the wall. “And you’re really good at that.”
Reuben smiled as he withdrew then quickly plunged inside again, rocking her head one more time. “The best.”
Then he pressed his forehead to hers and did it again and again and again as she chanted, “Yes, yes, yes,” and when she started to moan and tremble in his arms he slid his hands between their bodies, finding the raised little bundle of nerves he was seeking and he rubbed until she gasped and her eyes widened and her thigh tightened on his hip and she called out, “Reuben,” and bucked against the wall.
Watching this woman fly apart was the most goddamn beautiful thing Reuben had ever witnessed. Seeing those plain brown eyes glow suddenly with whiskey and gold and amber and her red mouth gape wide and knowing he was responsible…
He felt like a fucking king.
He kissed her then, kissed that lush beautiful mouth as he gave in to the demands of his own orgasm, unlocking the mental gates that had kept it in check, huddling her close as he drove deep inside her body, thrusting until they were both spent and all that was left was the noise of their ragged breathing as they slowly floated back down to earth.
“And that,” Vivian said, her head flopping back against the wall, “is why I took my panties off.”
Reuben gave a half laugh as he eased away slightly, their bodies still joined in the most intimate way possible. “Thank you for hitting on me.”
“I’m not a big believer in waiting for things to come to me.”
“Yeah, I got that vibe.” Vivian was what his father called a go-getter.
She shifted a little and Reuben realized this probably wasn’t the most comfortable position for her—balancing on one stilettoed leg, the other splayed out to accommodate him. “Let’s take round two to the bed,” he suggested.
Reuben seriously fucking hoped there was going to be a round two. And a couple more after that. He’d go if that’s what she wanted—maybe a quick fuck against a wall was all Vivian was up for—but while this frantic, vertical sex had gotten the job done, it wasn’t anywhere near his best work.
“Mm, round two.” She kissed him and Reuben leaned the hell into that for the seconds it lasted. “I think I’m going to need a minute, however, to get my land legs.”
He knew how she felt. Pleasure so sharp and pure it had taken him out of himself. Floating him through a cotton candy sky. But he knew a fix for wobbly legs.
“Allow me,” he said.
Her breath hitched a little and she tightened her hold on him as he eased out and lowered her leg to the ground before swinging her up into his arms in one quick movement.
“Reuben,” she protested, a note of alarm in her voice as she grabbed around his neck. “The bed’s only like three paces away. I can manage.”
By the time the words had been uttered, Reuben had striven the aforementioned paces to the bed. “See,” she said.
“Sure.” He nodded as he held her over the mattress. “But this way you get to conserve your energy.”
“What for? I’m hardly running a marathon.”
“Trust me, you’re going to need to keep your strength up for the marathon of cunnilingus I’m about to unleash on you. You’re going to need it for all the moaning, thrashing and begging I’m going to make you do.”
And he dumped her on the mattress.
Chapter Two
Six weeks later in Marietta…
Viv Dawson stood just inside the front door of the shop casting her eye over the setup, admiring her handiwork. She’d done this with dozens of Delish stores now so she didn’t need to consult floor plans or store layout guides—they were as familiar to her as her own heartbeat.
Which was the point.
Customers liked familiarity. They liked knowing their favorite product was going to be in the same place in every store they walked into across the country.
And, as of nine a.m. Monday morning, it was Marietta, Montana’s turn.
She’d fought to have this store be Delish’s third one outside of a big city and had championed the company’s move into regional and rural areas after a chance conversation with a twenty-something from Clovis, Texas, who’d lamented there wasn’t a specialty chocolate shop in her hometown. From there, Viv’s gut had taken over and she’d done extensive consumer research and identified a gap in the market.
A gap Delish could fill.
She’d known through her own personal experience growing up in a mid-size town that if a person living in a regional area craved chocolate, their local Piggly Wiggly—or whatever their corner store equivalent may be—was their only option. And that was just a basic range. If they craved something a little fancier, they ordered online and waited for the delivery.
Which was a tragedy—everybody should have immediate access to good chocolate.
With sixty stores across all the major cities in the continental USA, Viv felt Delish was in a good position to push their brand into regions that had been too long deprived of their chocolate fixes. Thankfully, the Delish board with their no-suggestion-too-stupid policy, had looked at her carefully prepared pitch based on her three months’ research into consumer spending and regional market trends, and embraced the idea with open arms. They’d even tasked her with scoping out locations.
It had been a shift from her usual role in the company, one she’d enjoyed because more travel. And she’d identified a dozen towns ripe for Delish’s brand of high-quality, low-cost chocolate. But this—establishing new stores then moving on to the next—was what she loved doing best. It suited someone with perennially itchy feet thanks to a childhood spent watching other people living their lives while she was stuck in her humdrum existence in a town in Nebraska where the most exciting—not—thing that ever happened was an annual crane migration.
How she’d long to be able to take off with the people who’d stayed at her family’s motel as they handed in their keys each morning and went on th
eir way to the mythical next place. How she’d counted down the days until she could leave the boredom of suburbia and start living her own life where she could do as she pleased and there was always something new, always another challenge on the horizon.
And, for the next six months, that challenge was Marietta.
The company had queried whether Bozeman with its university patronage and five times higher population was the better place to establish their third store, citing the competition with the already established and popular Copper Mountain Chocolates. Viv knew that the local chocolatier was deeply entrenched in the hearts and souls of Marietta, but it was precisely because of Sage O’Dell’s thriving business that Viv had been adamant.
The people of Marietta and the tourists were already conditioned to look for chocolate. The market was primed for fancy chocolate and happy to pay good money for it, which was half the battle. And Sage’s chocolate was divine—handmade and crafted in the back of the shop on Main Street just over the road and down a bit from here. Viv had tasted it on several occasions when she’d been scouting in the area six months ago and again on her September visit when she’d been negotiating the lease of these premises.
It was, however, expensive—as befitting the bespoke nature of Sage’s selection. Which was fine for a treat. For an occasion. But for the everyday? When a chocolate craving could be satisfied with something almost as good at half the price?
Yep…that’s where Delish came in.
The company sold a wide range of good quality chocolate imported from Belgium and Switzerland, all prepackaged and bought in bulk to keep their costs at a minimum. It was excellent chocolate—Viv’s hips, thighs and butt could attest to that. Was it a lovingly poured and individually handcrafted? No. But it was still damn good and…not expensive.
Comparatively.
There was no doubt Sage had strong brand loyalty but Sage’s prices were going to be Delish’s best asset. Marietta expected to pay through the nose for quality so when they didn’t have to…? That’s why she’d pushed so hard for Marietta over Bozeman. The far bigger town with its larger population had more choices for their chocolate fix and Delish would be just another in a robust market. But here in Marietta—the choices were one. Which made an alternative—like Delish—extremely attractive.