One-Night Man

by Jeanie London

  At his narrowed gaze, she infused her voice with more oomph and struggled to sit. "No, really, I'm fine. One good turn deserves another."

  "Shh." He guided her back down on the table, his hands freeing her from the tangle of her lace bra. "I don't make love to unconscious women."

  But he wore a condom.

  And he must read minds, too, because suddenly he bent low, crowding out her view of the world with his broad, broad shoulders, and leaned close to her ear. His breath shimmered across her sensitive skin when he whispered, "Trust me."

  Trust him to do what--kill her? She could see the coroner's report already: death by orgasm. Auntie Q would be thrilled. "If you had to choose a way to go, dear..."

  With gentle strokes of his fingers, he smoothed away damp hairs from her temples, a gesture so thoughtful, so tender that Lennon could only watch him, fascinated by the play of expressions across his beautiful dark face.

  Amusement, desire, challenge.

  He skimmed his palms down her neck and along her shoulders, with a touch so light she could feel the heat radiating from his skin. Hairs along her arms lifted as he traced her breasts, her waist, her hips. All the while his expression revealed how beautiful he found the sight of her body, the play of light in his eyes shifting like a cut emerald held up to the sunlight.

  Then he bent low over her belly, and his first kiss brushed her skin as softly as his hands had. She trembled, and he peered up at her from beneath the inky-black hair that had fallen over his brow.

  "See? Life signs."

  He was right. His second kiss emphasized the point, making her stomach muscles contract.

  His third kiss, a delicious one in that sensitive space between her hip and her thigh, made her quiver.

  "This won't be work, after all," he said, his throaty chuckle sending another zing of awareness jolting through her.

  Guess not. She felt that last kiss straight down to her toes. And here Lennon would have sworn that her recent sleep deprivation had rendered her immune to mind-blowing orgasms. It showed how much she knew. Maybe Auntie Q was correct again--the right man could keep her awake.

  Lennon managed to lift her hands to Josh's head, needing to feel the dark silk coolness of his hair beneath her fingertips, wanting to show him that his kisses were indeed bringing her back to life.

  The sight of his darkly handsome face poised between her thighs started her insides humming, and when he skimmed his tongue over the fine curls, his breath gusting over the swollen and sensitized skin below, Lennon came off the table.

  "Oh, no!" She couldn't handle this. His previous ministrations had left her so ultra-aware that his touch now felt too intense, far too potent.

  "Oh, yes." He speared that wicked tongue a little lower.

  Lennon's fingers tangled in his hair, and even though her brain was chanting, No, no, no! her hands were anchoring his face between her legs.

  His rough velvety tongue stroked her most private place, exploring the hidden folds of flesh, learning how each stroke and breathy caress affected her, until she rocked against him in a steady rhythm that heightened the tension inside her, higher and higher....

  Then he drew on that tiny knot of nerves, a tug so gentle, so exquisite that every bone in her body seemed to liquefy. She shouldn't have been able to move. The pleasure rolling through her was so intense she should have been paralyzed, but her knees drew up and her hands were suddenly on his shoulders, pulling her toward him as his name slipped from her mouth in a whimper.

  Josh knew what she wanted and rose above her, and one glimpse of the stark planes of his face, the granite clench of his jaw, proved his need mirrored her own. His sooty lashes half shuttered his gaze as he glanced down to position himself at her moist entrance, stroking her, familiarizing her with his size, but not pushing in more than a few inches.

  Lennon strained toward him, needing to feel the hot length of him inside her. That need energized her. Wrapping her legs around his waist, she wedged herself against him, until he had no choice but to slide his hand from between them and allow himself to be drawn inside. That one sleek thrust made her gasp and him groan, and proved that their bodies had been fashioned to fit together.

  Lennon ground herself against him, and the corresponding wave of pleasure stole her breath, making her arch against him with a shudder.

  Still Josh held back. Sunk to the hilt inside her, he didn't move, and the meaning of his shuttered gaze and rigid jaw finally penetrated her daze. He was on the edge.

  But Lennon wanted him far too desperately to ride out his need for control. Locking her legs around him, she hoisted herself up in one inspired motion and scooted right off the table.

  Surprise etched itself on his face for a split second, only to be wiped away by a reckless hunger that carved tight lines around his mouth and set his jaw. Forced to grip her bottom in both hands, Josh braced himself before they hit the floor.

  But his hunger rendered him under her control, and with her legs locked around him, Lennon rose up, using her leg muscles to ride the length of his hard shaft and then to sink back down, a breathtaking stroke.

  And one stroke was all it took for Josh to join her game. His strong fingers sank into her bottom, lifting her, plunging her back down in thrusts that made her ride against him, arms wrapped tightly around his neck, breasts rasping his damp chest.

  Thankfully, the suite was small and the bedroom only a few halting steps away. Josh carried her, muscles flexing, and suddenly the bed loomed behind him. Lennon could tell by the way he glanced back and shifted his weight that he intended to turn and lower her to the mattress beneath him. Instead, she shifted, causing him to topple backward.

  "Jeez, Lennon." He went down with a grunt, barely hanging on to her.

  He scowled. She smiled.

  Tucking her knees tight against his hips, she rode him until his scowl faded.

  His green eyes glinted, hooded with desire as he reached up to stroke the undersides of her breasts, to thumb her nipples and prove she wasn't the only one with needs here, or the only one who could evoke a response.

  She responded. And he responded.

  Tension mounted, the combination of his thick erection filling her and his skillful hands caressing her kindling a blaze of sensation she was powerless to resist. Even the sight of him spread out beneath her engaged more than her body's responses: it singed her emotions.

  He was Mr. Wrong, but in this moment, with their bodies joined and their passions exposed, wrong didn't seem to matter. Silky black hair escaped from his ponytail, clung to his face and neck, and she couldn't resist kissing those damp strands from his cheeks, melting inside when he leaned into her kisses, his passion-glazed expression hungry as she rode him.

  He shifted beneath her, muscles tensing as he slid his hands down her back, her hips, her thighs. With a touch, he directed her to let her knees slide out from beneath her, and she did, lying across him, every inch of her hot skin melded decadently with his. He sank his fingers into her hips, guiding her, and suddenly long sleek strokes became powerful driving thrusts. Deeper, and deeper still.

  Following his lead, she slipped her hands beneath him, sandwiched her fingers between his butt and the mattress, adding pressure to each thrust, meeting him stroke for heavenly stroke.

  Burying her face in the crook of his neck, she kissed his sweat-damp skin, inhaled his musky male scent. Sooty strands of hair clung to her lips, and Lennon reveled in the surge of pleasure, of completeness, of the sheer rightness of their bodies straining together.

  And when she heard Josh groan, a gravelly sound that made his throat vibrate against her lips, she savored the feel of his quaking legs, rode out the sharp thrusts of his orgasm before her own world spun out of control.

  12

  IT WAS JUST SEX, Lennon told herself. Incredible sex. Grand passion was supposed to be this way, a feeling of being consumed, possessed and gloriously alive. Every sound echoed through her senses with a new clarity--their ragged breat
hs, the air-conditioner cycling on. Josh's pulse throbbed wildly beneath her lips, each beat timed with hers, mirroring the fading echo of her orgasm, which clenched his still-hard erection.

  She was living the role of heroine in a scene from one of her novels--or at least that was the only coherent explanation her passion-soaked brain could come up with. What else could possibly explain what was happening here with Josh?No sex in her experience had ever even come close to making her feel this intense, this incredible, this right.

  Uh-oh. Even wrung out from the most incredible orgasms she'd ever had, Lennon recognized trouble when she saw it.

  Fling, fling, fling, she chanted silently.

  His hand slid up her back to cradle her against him, and it was the tenderness of the gesture, the gentle brush of his lips on her brow, that made Lennon finally face the fact that she was in trouble here.

  Everything about this man fascinated her--from the line of his jaw, which had lost its granite hardness and seemed no more than stubbled skin over bone, to his determination not to lose control before making her climax with him yet again. Josh held her as though what had just happened between them was much more than sex.

  But it wasn't, couldn't be. And Lennon wasn't going to ruin this fantasy moment with her fantasy man with analysis. She'd signed on for a fling, and that was exactly what she was going to have. No emotions except pleasure. She wouldn't allow herself to confuse fantasy with reality.

  Josh wanted this weekend. She wanted this weekend. What was happening between them was about bodies and passion and sex. It was not about the heart or impossible futures.

  "How'd you wind up with a name like Lennon?" he asked, turning his face to meet her gaze.

  And she wasn't going to melt all over again just because he wanted to know something so simple about her. She had an unusual name. Curiosity got him, that was all.

  "I was born during my mother's crush-on-a-rock-star phase." She infused as much laid-back distance in her voice as she could muster, given her sex was still giving the odd clench around his erection as her orgasm faded away. "I've got a collection of autographed memorabilia that rivals the Hard Rock Cafe's. I've thought about donating my stuff, but it would break my mother's heart. She ranks giving me that collection right up there with putting me through college and touring me through Europe."

  He smoothed hair back from her face, traced the shell of her ear as if they'd been lovers for centuries and he knew every nook and cranny of her body. "It's different. It suits you."

  "Are you saying I'm different?" She laughed, but didn't give him a chance to reply. "Auntie Q attaches all sorts of significance to names, you know. Her name's a variation of Guinevere, and she's convinced that explains her relationship with your grandfather. Unrequited love and all that. Although I don't suppose they were technically unrequited. She even brought up your name when we argued about needing a bodyguard."

  "Did she?"

  "She said you were named after a line of strong men and would be perfect to protect me. I suppose she was right." Lennon was babbling. She knew it, but she couldn't seem to stop. Talk helped her put distance between herself and this man.

  "If my name makes me a chip off the old block, I suppose that makes you a creative genius."

  She could tell by Josh's supremely satisfied grin that he knew she was babbling, too.

  Good sex, good sex, good sex, Lennon chanted silently, wondering why she couldn't seem to remember such a fundamental, when she was wrapped around this naked, intensely handsome man who was still buried deep inside her.

  "I hardly think I qualify as a creative genius." She tried to make a break for it.

  Josh's arms were tight as whipcords around her and he didn't let go. He yanked the comforter from the corner of the bed instead, pulling it over them to cocoon their damp bodies together. She lay on top of him like a bare-skinned top sheet.

  "You're quite the creative genius, chere. You've inspired some sexual variations I've never considered before."

  His so-green eyes smoldered hot with the reminder of their intimacies, and her body temperature jumped about ten degrees.

  And her body heat wasn't the only thing to jump. His erection, which by all rights should have been depleted after that orgasm, jumped inside her with renewed vigor.

  Her inspired sexual variations must have been a hit.

  "So you're willing to postpone the wedding?"

  Lennon thought the answer obvious, given the dynamics of their current positions. But if he needed to be reassured...reassurance was good. She could use some herself.

  "I'm willing."

  "For a fling?"

  "Mm-hmm. A fling."

  Some emotion flittered across his face, some expression Lennon couldn't begin to interpret. But she didn't have to, because Josh swept a strand of hair behind her ear and said, "We've got to come to a compromise on handling the rest of the weekend, then. I don't like you flirting when you're with me."

  Lifting her head, she stared at him. "I don't flirt."

  A disbelieving "humph" was his only reply.

  Lennon wasn't sure what he was worrying about. Thanks to him and Louis Garceau and Auntie Q, she was reputed to be engaged in a hot affair, which wasn't exactly going to inspire any bachelor's interest.

  Josh ran his hands possessively down her back, and to Lennon's amazement, tiny tingles ignited in the wake of his touch. Life signs.

  "Listen, I'll make a deal with you," he said. "You stop scoping out bachelors when you're with me, and I'll share the information I uncover in their background checks."

  Lennon opened her mouth to tell him that she'd abandoned her search for a husband the minute she'd kissed him, but there was something about his expression...something so utterly stoic and unreadable that she quickly shut her mouth again.

  Was Josh offering to help her investigate the bachelors to remind her he was only interested in a fling? Did he think she needed reminding?

  If he did, he'd be right. She needed reminding big time.

  You want a husband and I can't be one of those.

  He had made that crystal clear. Lennon was the one getting romance hero and husband all mixed up in her head.

  Letting Josh investigate the bachelors might be exactly the reminder she needed to focus on the fact that he was Mr. Wrong--even if she no longer needed the information. And if it would make him feel protected from expectations about the future...

  "Agreed," she said with a forced smile. "I won't scope out bachelors if you help me investigate them."

  "Agreed," Josh replied. "Give me your undivided attention this weekend and I'll help you."

  He'd help her, all right. And Josh promised himself that when he was through investigating, lovely Lennon would have no questions about who was the right man for her.

  Him. And only him.

  He didn't want a weekend fling. Josh wasn't exactly sure what he wanted, but he damned sure wanted time to figure it out. He wanted time to know this woman who made him ache in a way he'd never ached before, who made him feel such a need to possess.

  He'd never had sex like this and wouldn't give it up. Not until he was damned good and ready. He wouldn't be ready by Fat Tuesday. No question. And he didn't intend to stand by and watch her conduct a husband hunt when he wanted her so much that he couldn't even drag himself out of her body.

  Running his hands over her hips, he cupped her smooth cheeks and pulled her closer. His erection surged and Lennon gasped. He definitely wouldn't give her up yet.

  "We should probably start getting ready," she said, and he heard the breathlessness in her voice, knew she was looking to run because what they did together was so intense.

  "No." He caught her whiskey gaze with his own. "I'm not in any hurry to dress in that getup."

  Huffing, she twisted around to break his grip, and only succeeded in driving his erection deeper. "I've got someone coming to help me with my costume."

  Not giving Lennon a chance to resist, he gripped her tight
and rolled over, trapping her beneath him. Her hips sank into the mattress and he thrust into her to make his point, one hot stroke that made every muscle in his body clench tight. "Your someone isn't here yet."

  Lennon's expression softened and her warm eyes grew dreamy. "That's true."

  He lowered his mouth to hers, to taste her sweet sigh.

  No, Josh wasn't ready to give up this woman yet. Not even close. He had a plan, and step two meant staying buried inside her until she came again.

  She did. And he did. Only after they'd drained every ounce of passion from their bodies and risked being unable to walk without assistance did Josh let her shower and start dressing for the masque.

  "Oh my gosh, we're going to be late," Lennon said, when she finally glanced at the clock. "Where's Joby?"

  Joby, whoever he or she was, must have been standing outside their suite waiting for Lennon's cue, because a knock sounded on the door almost instantly.

  Hooking his hands behind his head, Josh stretched to ease the languor that had claimed his strength, and watched Lennon sail across the suite in all her naked glory, nipples still rosy from his caresses and her chest still flushed from her orgasm.

  "Hang on, Joby, I'm coming," she called out.

  He enjoyed the show so much that when she reappeared from the bathroom, dressed in a plush white robe, he still stood there.

  Eyeing him with something close to panic, she said, "Do you want me to let her in so she can admire you, too?"

  Joby was a she. "No."

  "Then shoo." Rushing past him, she paused long enough to pat his backside and gaze at him with a dreamy expression, before heading to the bed to straighten out the tangle of sheets and comforter they'd made there. "Oh, and if you need anything out of the bathroom, grab it. I'll be in there for a while."

  Josh attended to business, and when he reappeared, he was hastily introduced to an exotic-looking woman with cocoa-colored skin and loads of beaded hair extensions, who lugged two very large rolling suitcases behind her. "Have salon will travel," Joby said before disappearing inside the bathroom with Lennon.