by Zara Cox
The grim set to his jaw put paid to that wild fantasy.
I was already at my two-drink limit, a hard cap I’d set myself after witnessing countless times what alcohol did to my mother. The dark depths of despair interspersed with endless bitter rants about the world at large and me in particular whenever she’d had more than a few. Much as I’d told myself that it was the alcohol talking, the barbs she’d thrown my way had found their mark.
Thoughts of my mother dampened my mood. Tucking my purse under my arm, I turned to the bartender. ‘Put the drinks on my room, please. Suite 6799.’
I felt Mortimer move, his shadow looming closer. My insides tightened, my pussy throbbing at the thought of further tussling with him.
But as much as I wanted that thrill, my screaming instincts had other ideas. Curbing the need for one last thirst-quenching look, I turned on my heel and walked out of the bar.
Twenty minutes later, fresh from a hot shower, I shrugged into the complimentary satin robe, tying the belt loosely around my waist. Drawn to the spectacular view, I was halfway across the carpeted suite when the hard triple-rap on the door froze my steps.
For some absurd reason my pulse jumped. It could be many things. The concierge delivering my final bill before I checked out tomorrow. The complimentary turn-down service listed among the numerous guest perks.
Still, my blood thrummed with excitement as I pulled the door open.
He stood with hands rammed deep into his pockets, his hair a little dishevelled and his tie still loose, exposing the beginnings of a mouth-watering, hair-dusted chest.
For a pulse-racing stretch of time, we stared at each other, neither of us making a move.
‘You shouldn’t blurt out your room number in front of strangers,’ he rasped, his gaze climbing from my legs to clash with mine.
‘Even the stranger whose hotel I’m staying in?’
Only the fleeting gleam in his eyes said I’d correctly guessed his identity. ‘Especially him.’
‘Thanks for the tip. And thanks for installing the peephole and latch to ensure I have the choice of only opening the door to people I feel I can trust.’
A muscle ticced in his jaw, a telltale sign that he was fighting urges or demons. ‘You think you can trust me, Neve Nolan?’
It shouldn’t have made me hot and wet, the fact that a powerful man like him had taken the time to find out my name. But, boy, did it.
I shrugged, and when the robe slipped off one shoulder to reveal my upper arm and the slope of one breast, I didn’t adjust it. I stood stock-still and let his gaze caress skin I’d exposed.
He stared long and hard. Then cursed tightly. ‘Bloody hell, I shouldn’t be here,’ he muttered, his fingers clawing through his hair.
He started to turn away.
Something sharp and urgent pierced me. ‘And yet here you are.’
He froze. Lust and something harsh swirled through his eyes as our gazes reconnected. ‘Tell me to leave you alone, Neve.’
I shrugged again, projecting calm I didn’t feel. I didn’t want him to walk away but I wasn’t going to beg. ‘You’re a big boy. If you don’t want to be here, you know where the elevator is. If not...’ I left the sentence hanging, released the door handle and turned my back on him for the second time in under an hour.
I wasn’t one for calling bluffs. Yet something urged me to challenge this towering force of a man caught between desire and demons. I put the distance of the suite between us and made it to the window and the view beyond. But not even the spectacular vista of night-time Boston could divert my senses from his solid, overwhelming presence.
The door closed with a sharp snick and my pulse leapt. Through the window’s reflection, I watched him prowl towards me. He arrived behind me and stopped, saying nothing, his sandalwood and earthy scent swathing me.
Between one breath and the next, he spun me around, long, lean fingers meshing into my loose hair, gripping it tight enough to send delicious tingles to my pussy. Slowly he tipped my head back, stared deep into my eyes. ‘You’re an exceptionally beautiful woman, Neve.’
‘Thank you,’ I murmured, lava-thick lust oozing inside me.
He nodded, a brittle little gesture incongruent with the liquid heat in his eyes. ‘But you should be debating the wisdom of letting me entangle you in my life. I’m having a very bad day, you see,’ he grated, then gave a hard laugh. ‘Scratch that. I’m having a very bad fucking year.’
‘I can tell. On the flip side, I’m having a pretty good one, with the expectation of a great one tomorrow. The way I see it, we can balance each other out brilliantly. I don’t want to celebrate alone and you don’t want to sink into that hell I see swirling in your eyes. Correct?’
He drew closer, wedged one thickly muscled thigh between my legs. My burning centre rubbed against his leg and at the moan I let loose, his cock thickened against my hip. ‘Beautiful, irresistible and intuitive. Where did you come from, Neve Nolan?’
I blinked up at him and smiled when his cock jerked against my leg. ‘Connecticut. I’m here in your lovely city for one night only.’
He laughed under his breath. ‘This isn’t my city. I’m visiting too.’
‘Then let’s make the most of it,’ I replied.
He pondered that for a few seconds, and a little of the chaos in his eyes abated. ‘Ships passing in the night, and all that?’
‘Hmm. But it would also help if you told me your first name.’
One eyebrow spiked. ‘Help with what, exactly?’
‘With whose name I scream when you’re balls-deep inside me. Or would you like me to scream some random name?’
His fingers tightened a fraction, enough to shower me with fresh waves of decadent tingles. ‘No, darling, I most certainly would not. The name you’ll want when you hit that special place is Damian.’
I reached for my belt and tugged the ends free. The robe parted enough for him to see I was completely naked underneath.
Enough to draw a rough sound from his throat.
‘Nice to meet you, Damian. Now take off your clothes.’
He didn’t comply. Not immediately. His gaze dropped to my mouth for the longest time, his eyelids half masts of sinful need he couldn’t hide as he released my hair and stepped back. Impatient fingers tugged his tie free and made short work of his shirt. Belt, shoes and socks followed. In less than a minute, Damian Mortimer was down to his boxers.
He was exceptionally built. Ripped in all the right places with a happy trail that drew my gaze down to the thick erection pressed against soft cotton.
Need flooded my system. Hard and fast and merciless. Enough to make me groan and slide my fingers over my belly to the furnace raging between my legs. He gave a thick curse as his gaze latched onto the brazen movement of my fingers.
I was wet. Soaking. And I was more than enjoying the rabid look in his eyes as he watched me caress myself.
He groaned, almost as if against his will.
‘You like that?’
One large hand curled around his cock and stroked. ‘Fuck, yes.’
With my free hand, I shucked off my robe. My shoulders met the cool glass and I gasped as my nipples peaked to painful points. ‘Come here, Damian.’
Lust propelled him forward, even as a hard look lanced through his eyes. It was that same look I’d seen at the bar after I bought him the drink. But I didn’t care. Not enough to stop and examine it. We were both adults and this was a one-night-only thing.
Hands braced on either side of my shoulders, his breathing harsh and frantic, he stared down at the busy fingers between my legs. I raised my chin, aligned my face to his in silent command.
With a grunt, he fused his lips to mine, kissed me with brutal urgency, his tongue tangling with mine as if he couldn’t help himself, and, God, it was just what I needed after long fallow months where
work dominated my life. To be kissed, desired, as if I were the harvest after a terrible famine. My hungry lips clung to his, my moans filling the room as my reawakened body blazed.
Damian plastered his glorious body against mine. When his hands left the glass wall to curl around my nape, I slid my free hand beneath his waistband and grasped his hot, velvety length. He jerked within my closed fist, a tortured grunt leaving his throat at my eager caress.
‘Jesus, that feels good.’
The guttural confession made my pussy clench tight, need making my fingers work faster. God, I was close and he hadn’t even touched my erogenous zones yet. The wet sounds of our lips and my fingers grew louder and he wrenched away.
‘Need a taste.’
Still brazen, I shook my head. ‘Not yet. I get to go first.’
His eyes darkened until they were almost black save for the tiny gold flecks within the burning depths. ‘You want to wrap that gorgeous mouth around my cock?’ he croaked.
‘I want nothing to occupy your mind except how good your cock feels sliding down my throat,’ I replied, gliding sinuously down the glass until my knees hit the soft carpet.
A wild tremor shook his frame as he stared slack-jawed down at me. At my parted lips. Past my hard-tipped breasts to the fingers working my pussy.
‘Tell me you don’t need that.’
A spasm of bleakness darted over his face and he shut his eyes for a split second. ‘I need it. More than you could possibly know.’
I offered him another smile. One that slowly disappeared as he pushed his boxers down his muscular thighs and kicked them away.
Sweet heaven.
He was thick and long enough to elicit a momentary pang of alarm. But need eroded alarm, leaving behind savage hunger.
The back of his hand traced my cheek in a jerky caress before he recaptured my nape. With one hand braced on the wall, he slid his length between my lips.
Eagerly I welcomed him, wrapping my lips around his bell-shaped head before gliding my tongue over his slit. His salty, heady essence exploded on my tongue, dragged a whimper from deep inside. One taste and I wanted more. When his hips drew back I chased after him, greedily meeting his thrust.
We both groaned when he hit the back of my throat.
I glanced up his spectacular body, our gazes clashing as I sucked him deep. His nostrils flared wide, then, unable to resist giving me what I wanted, Damian began to fuck my face. With every penetration I took him deeper, wanting as much as he was willing to give.
‘God. You’re bloody spectacular,’ he growled.
The sexy, guttural voice made me wetter. I sank my middle finger deep, feverishly imagining him filling me up until I was stretched tight, until there was nothing but him.
His fingers tightened on my nape and with a harsh groan, Damian exploded in my mouth. The force of his climax spiked my lust and I rode the wild, frenzied wave.
Lost in mindless pleasure, I barely noticed him move away, grasp my arms and lower me to the carpet. But I felt the heat of his body when he covered mine with his, when he brushed his fingers over my mouth and caught my gaze.
‘Christ, did you just come sucking me off?’ he demanded hoarsely.
‘Hmm,’ I murmured, my hips still riding the tail end of my climax.
He leaned closer, brushed his lips over mine before trailing kisses over my jaw and neck. ‘Holy shit, I don’t think I’ve seen anything sexier,’ he rasped in my ear. My shiver drew a laugh from him. ‘I hope you’re not overly sensitive. Because I don’t think I can wait to fuck you.’
He reached for his trousers, pulled out a condom and tugged it on. ‘On your knees,’ he growled.
I rolled over and surged up onto my hands and knees, dragged my hair over one shoulder so I could watch him position himself behind me. ‘Hurry.’
A smile twisted his mouth as his eyes met mine. ‘Is that gorgeous pussy hot for me?’
‘Yes. I need you.’
The smile dropped from his mouth, followed by his gaze a second later. The inkling that I’d just committed a faux pas rushed out of my head the instant Damian surged hard and deep inside me.
I screamed, my fingers digging into the carpet as searing pleasure shot up my spine. Firm, almost cruel hands dug into my waist and held me still as he withdrew and plunged deep inside again. As anticipated, Damian was thick enough to fill me almost to the point of pain despite my slickness. That added bite dragged another scream from me as he slammed in from behind, setting a pace that made my back arch in bliss.
‘God, yes! Just like that,’ I moaned.
One hand moulded my butt, trailed up my spine to rest between my shoulders. He pushed my torso down to the carpet, and I screamed all over again as the angle seated his cock deeper inside me. Pure instinct had me dragging my legs wider apart, and with one last thrust, I started to unravel.
Clever fingers tormented my clit as the first wave hit me, prolonging my release until my body was trapped in relentless convulsions. Just when I thought I’d crawl out of my own skin with the savagery of my climax, Damian roared with his own release, then stilled inside me.
We collapsed onto the carpet, for the longest time saying nothing as we caught our breaths.
Then a smile I couldn’t stop creased my face.
‘I knew I liked your hotel.’
He chuckled, a deep but rough sound. As if he hadn’t laughed for a while. From our curious exchange tonight, I guessed he probably hadn’t. ‘Just like?’
‘Fine, I really like it.’
His eyes gleamed. ‘Which part do you like the most?’
‘I have to choose?’
He wrapped a hand around my waist. ‘Let’s start with this room.’
‘Everything. The lamps. The view. The bed.’
‘Hmm. We haven’t made it to the bed yet. What especially do you like about it?’
‘It’s sturdy. It could pass for an antique even though I know it’s not. It gives the guest a feeling like they’re sleeping in a bed fit for a king or queen. Or a naughty courtesan sneaking in for a tryst.’
He stiffened slightly. ‘Is that what turns you on, Neve? Illicit assignations with strangers you meet in bars?’
My breath caught on a dart of hurt. ‘If you’re trying to be offensive, don’t waste your time. I’ve never done anything like this before but I don’t regret it.’
I read his scepticism loud and clear. Told myself I didn’t care.
I knew my truth but couldn’t help adding, ‘There’s nothing wrong with that if all parties are free and consenting adults.’
He inhaled slowly, his gaze turning turbulent. I sensed his withdrawal even though his arm tightened around me. ‘And what would you have me do in this tryst of yours?’
I draped my arms around his neck. ‘I’d like to move to the bed, test my theory for real.’
‘As you wish.’ His concession held a definite bite.
Perhaps I should’ve called a halt to things then. But Damian Mortimer was kissing me as he carried me across the floor. Potent kisses I wanted to enjoy just for a few more hours. We were consenting adults after all.
So why fight it?
Damian
I tried.
Fought to resist her.
When I couldn’t, I wanted to punish her for reminding me of everything I wanted to forget. For tempting me enough to break the rigid rules I’d ring-fenced my life with for twelve long months. Most of all, I wanted to punish her for unwittingly re-enacting that sordid little scene downstairs.
The one that reminded me of the worst moment of my life.
That reminded me of why I was here on the wrong side of the pond when I yearned to be back in London, in the place I thrived and loved the most.
The part of me that knew it was irrational to take things out on this woman whose brazenness should
n’t have been a turn-on—and yet had touched parts of me I’d thought were withered and dead—winced. But hell, I was drowning beneath the bitterness and vitriol festering inside me.
And she...
I tossed her on the bed, watched the most beautiful woman I’d seen in a long time beckon me with a come-hither smile.
She was irresistible. Just enough for my needs. Because after that phone call, after hearing the anger and bitterness and disappointment, I’d wanted to dive into a bottle of whiskey. I’d wanted to forget that I’d betrayed the one person closest to me.
Gideon Mortimer.
My flesh and blood. But more than that, my best friend.
But even that avenue was now closed to me.
A casual drink at a bar was what had started my descent into hell.
But Neve Nolan wasn’t off limits. She was wide open and willing, a tangible port in a black sea of despondency and frustration.
I intended to take with no regrets.
Just for tonight, I would break my own rules. And if regret came in the morning, I’d toss that too into the seething abyss that was my life.
CHAPTER TWO
Neve. Two years later...
DESPISE. LOATHE. ABHOR.
Nope, none of them quite fit.
I hate Damian Mortimer.
There. That was better. I’ve hated him with every single breath I’ve taken for the last two years. Since he took my offer of relief and turned it completely against me. Since he crippled my business and trashed eighteen months of back-breaking work and sacrifice with nothing more than a few gruffly muttered words to Malcolm Cahill.
This TV show was my one attempt to exact some payback.
Every day since that fateful morning after, when Malcolm Cahill shattered my dreams, I’ve vowed to teach Damian Mortimer an unforgettable lesson.
That he hadn’t even bothered to hide his part in the demise of my affiliation deal with Cahill Hotels was just the first in a despicable series of low blows that had started with his disappearance from my bed the morning after our night together. Hard on its heels had come Cahill’s phone call.