by Anna DePalo
Once they were inside, she followed Zeke as he made his way to the elevator bank.
He glanced down at her in amusement. “Camera shy?”
“Do they always know where you’re staying?” she asked in exasperation.
He shrugged. “They always do. Of course, in New York, I’m always at the Waldorf, so there’s not much guess work.”
“And do the handlers never leave you?”
He tossed her a sly grin. “You’re about to find out,” he said as he stepped into the elevator behind her, punched a button and watched the doors slide shut.
In the confined space, she was again very aware of him—of his all-male aura and blatant sex appeal. “Where are we going?” she asked, trying to keep her tone even.
“My suite,” he said as the doors to the elevator opened again.
Tell him. Tell him. It really was past time that she came clean about what she was doing here. They were about to go back to his hotel room!
And yet, the words wouldn’t come. She was caught up in the strange excitement that seemed to exist between them.
They walked past another security guard—one whose job evidently was to ensure that no uninvited guests made their way to Zeke’s door—and then they were inside Zeke’s suite.
Classical music wafted through the space. Following him down a long corridor, she stopped at the entrance to a huge parlor graced by a large chandelier. A dining room table large enough to sit twelve sat along one end of the room, while a fireplace and couches and chairs clustered at another.
The decor was tasteful and not at all tacky and lavish—the latter, she admitted, was sort of what she’d been expecting of a rock sensation’s hotel accommodations.
“Now, you know why I always stay at the Waldorf,” he said with a quick grin, dropping his jacket onto a nearby chair.
“Mmm,” she said as he took her coat and bag from her.
She was used to understated luxury. She’d grown up surrounded by it. She just hadn’t expected it from his quarter, but since he had no reason to assume she’d be anything but very impressed, she refrained from saying something committal.
He stood inches from her, and they stared at each other.
“If you’d like to use the bathroom to freshen up,” he said, breaking the tension, “it’s down the hall and to the right.”
“Th-thanks.”
Her voice sounded breathless to her own ears. She needed time to think, time to figure out what to do.
When she continued not to make a move, he stepped aside for her.
She felt heat rise to her face. “I—I’ll be right back.”
She cursed the fact that she kept stumbling over her words. Could she seem any more devoid of poise?
Behind her, she heard him say, “I’m going to change shirts.”
“Sure.” She tried to sound nonchalant, but she felt his every step behind her.
She stopped in the narrow hallway, before the open door to the bathroom, and turned back toward him, nearly colliding with him in the process.
He reached out to steady her, and they both froze, his hands on her upper arms.
His eyes, she noted again hazily, were the most incredible blue that she’d ever seen.
“I’ve wanted to do this,” he said thickly.
“What?” she breathed.
“This.” He bent his head and kissed her.
The kiss was electric, and she felt it clear down to her toes.
When he broke away, he said, “This is going to sound crazy, but I feel as if I know you. As if I knew you before tonight, I mean.”
“Not crazy. I feel the same way,” she confessed.
How could she explain? It was crazy. Yet, she felt as if she’d known him—had been waiting for this moment—her entire life.
He bent his head again, and she waited for the already familiar scent and flavor of him.
The kiss this time was a slow and erotic dance, and she found herself leaning back against the wall for support.
She shuddered as he took the kiss deeper, and she opened to him, sliding her hands up his chest and to his shoulders to draw him closer. Pressed against him, she felt every inch of his lean, muscular form, from his firm thighs to the hard plane of his chest.
His lips moved from hers to trail kisses along her jawline to the sensitive spot below her ear. When his lips traced the delicate shell of her ear, a moan escaped her.
She felt a stab of pure lust. She’d never had the teenage crushes that other girls had had on movie stars and celebrities. She’d been too sensible for that type of thing. Now, though, confronted by a real rock star, her resistance crumbled like a house of sand.
His hands ran down her sides, over her hips and then to her back, molding her to him.
“We have to stop,” she murmured.
“Right,” he said, intent on kissing her neck.
She turned her head to the side to give him better access. “This is wrong.”
“But it feels so right.”
She couldn’t argue with that logic.
“I’ve been seeing you in my dreams,” he said.
“Sounds lovely.”
He laughed against her throat. “It has been.” He raised his head and looked into her eyes. “But the real thing is better.”
He cupped her face and delivered a searing kiss.
When he finally lifted his head, they were both breathing hard. “Trust me?”
She nodded.
He bent and, sliding an arm behind her knees, lifted her as if she weighed no more than a feather.
She pulled his head down for another scorching kiss, then he headed for the room at the end of the hall.
The everyday, sensible Summer Elliott would have panicked by now. This Summer Elliott, however, could only feel an overwhelming sense of anticipation.
Release your inner goddess…. Release your inner goddess.…
Yes. It wasn’t just that her clothes were different tonight. Her inhibitions had also evaporated faster than water in the desert.
Listening to Zeke sing one slow-burn love song after another, then being in his presence—hearing that sexy voice, looking into his blue eyes, feeling his arousing touch—her defenses were at a low ebb.
He carried her into a room that was expensively decorated and set her down at the foot of a king-size bed.
His fingers went to the hem of her sweater. “You don’t mind if I get rid of this, do you? I have this need to touch you.”
The sensible Summer Elliott was alarmed, but the uninhibited Summer just said, “Please.”
The top came off, and he tossed it aside, his eyes widening with appreciation as he took in her wine-colored demi bra.
“Beautiful,” he muttered.
She shivered in response to his blatant appreciation. She was thankful now that she’d let Scarlet coax her into wearing her sexiest underwear—underwear that, not coincidentally, she’d been talked into buying by her sister on their most recent shopping trip together.
She’d thought she’d have little use for the satin bra and matching panties. In fact, she remembered arguing with Scarlet last night and saying, “I don’t see why I need to wear sexy underwear to the concert. After all, it’s not as if anyone is going to see it.”
Scarlet had sighed impatiently. “It’s all part of dressing the role. If you dress sexier, you’ll feel and act sexier.”
Now Zeke caressed her with his fingertips, tracing circles on her shoulders before feathering downward over her arms and then the tops of her breasts.
If he’d been anything but gentle, she’d have turned and fled. Instead, she felt herself melting under his tenderness.
He lowered the strap of her bra and his hand came up to cup the exposed breast, the pad of his thumb flicking over the nipple and making it hard and distended. The look on his face was dark, intense and clouded with desire.
A low whimper escaped from her. Her knees felt like jelly, while all her most sensitive spots were charged
with awareness. When he pulled her against him and took her nipple in his mouth, she sagged against him, running her fingers through his hair.
With one hand, he unhooked her bra and pulled it off. His mouth moved to her other breast, and his hands roamed, busy with divesting her of her skirt. Dimly, she heard her skirt rustle to the ground, even as she concentrated on the pleasurable sensations of his mouth at her breast.
When he finally pulled back, his gaze swept over her and widened. She was dressed only in her panties, thigh-high hose and long boots.
“Wow.” Yanking his shirt over his head, he added jokingly, “Guess I’ll have to level the playing field.”
She drank him in as he undressed. He was gorgeous, his chest flat and muscled, his body lean and strong.
When they came together again, it was all questing hands and torrid kisses.
She felt his erection press against her, and rubbed against it.
He raised his head and groaned. “I want you.”
“Yes.”
“You’re a fantasy come to life.”
“I’ll bet,” she teased, looking down at herself. “Stiletto boots and hose?”
“Oh, yeah.” His eyes glinted. “Sit back and I’ll help you off with them.”
Obediently, she sat on the bed behind her and raised her leg.
Slowly, his eyes never leaving hers, he lowered the zipper of one boot and tossed it aside. He rolled down her stocking, tossed it aside as well, and then pressed a hot kiss to the inside of her ankle.
She’d never been more aroused in her life. Mesmerized, she watched him do the same to her other leg.
Afterward, he kicked off his shoes and undid his jeans, pulling the latter off along with his underwear, so that he stood before her naked and aroused.
“You’re gorgeous,” she said.
He quirked a brow, amusement crossing his face. “Same to you.” He glanced around, then walked over to a carry-on bag on a nearby chair. After some rustling, he pulled something out and turned back to the bed. “For a second, I thought I didn’t have any.”
She glanced at the small packet in his hand. Protection. Suddenly, the enormity of what she was about to do hit her, and she gulped. “I guess this is as good a moment as any to tell you—”
“Yes?”
“I’ve never done this before.”
Three
S ummer watched as Zeke stopped, looking stunned. “Never?”
She shook her head, uncertain of his reaction. “Never.”
She could swear she heard him murmur, “I thought so.”
“What?”
“Nothing.” He looked bemused. “It looks like it’s a set of firsts.” He paused. “I’ve never gone to bed with a virgin.”
“Oh.” She digested that information for a second. “Not even in high school?”
“Nope.” Then he teased, “Making some assumptions, aren’t we?”
She felt herself blush with embarrassment.
He held her gaze. “We don’t have to if you’re not ready.”
Here it was, she thought. Her last chance to back out. Strangely, though, she realized it was the last thing she wanted. “I still want to,” she whispered. “I still want you.”
He nodded, and his shoulders relaxed. “Believe me, you couldn’t want me any more than I want you right now.”
Turning, he walked to the adjacent bathroom.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“Getting some lubrication,” he said over his shoulder. “We’re going to need it.”
She sat up on the bed.
He came back, set a tube down on the night table and ripped open the foil packet that he’d retrieved earlier.
“Let me,” she said, gazing at him. “Teach me.”
He swallowed—hard.
“Please,” she said, reaching out a hand.
He took her hand and guided her, letting her roll the protection onto him. His eyes closed with pleasure.
She continued to stroke him even with the protection on, and he showed her what to do.
“Ah,” he breathed, opening his eyes, which were cloudy with desire. “I’m about to come out of my skin.”
She held her arms out to him, and he came down beside her on the bed, gathering her into his embrace. He began to kiss her, starting with her lips, then moving to her neck and shoulders and lower.
She felt languorous, wanton and sexy, and one by one, her muscles relaxed. This was better than a Swedish massage, she thought, and they hadn’t even reached climax yet.
He kneaded her flesh while his lips touched here and there, making her come alive.
She shifted restlessly under the gentle onslaught. Finally, when she thought she couldn’t stand any more, he opened the tube on the night table, rubbed some gel between his fingers and started massaging her intimately.
“Oh, Zeke!”
“Shh,” he said soothingly. “Just feel.”
How could she just feel? Quivering, she grasped his upper arm. She felt like a bow that was being pulled tight and then tighter.
Distantly, she heard Zeke crooning to her, and then he was there beside her, gathering her close, as his fingers continued to work and she went over the edge, shaking with her release.
When she finally came down to earth, she turned heavy eyes toward him.
“Now I want you,” she whispered.
“Glad to hear that.” His gaze intent, he moved over her, positioning himself between her thighs. He gave her a quick, hard kiss. “I’ll try not to hurt you. Just concentrate on kissing me.”
His hands and lips soothed as he continued his inexorable move forward.
She felt stretched and full. Fear intruded for a moment, but before she could dwell on it, he thrust forward, burying himself within her.
She pulled away from their kiss and gasped. The pain had been sharp but fleeting. A feeling of fullness remained, and beneath that, pleasure.
“Did I hurt you?” he asked, his face etched with concern.
“It’s better now. The pain was over quickly.”
He smiled. “But this isn’t.”
He started to move then and taught her how to move with him, setting up a slow rhythm, while he whispered encouragement in her ear and described how she made him feel.
She felt wound tight, and the tension only seemed to build as he whispered intimate questions in her ear and coaxed answers from her.
In another life, she’d have been red with embarrassment. But tonight, she felt loose and carefree.
He was incredible, and he was absolutely devastating her. He crooned some sexy lyrics in her ear, and she nearly came undone.
His pace quickened then, and his breathing became labored and harsh. Just when she thought the coil within her was going to spring free, he thrust once, twice….
Her release came seconds before his powerful climax. He tensed, thrust, jerked, and then went slack against her.
When their breathing had slowed and their hearts had stopped racing, she said huskily, “You’ve got great timing.”
He guffawed and kissed her on the nose. “I’ll take that as a compliment.” He moved to her side, slung an arm over her and snuggled her close.
Zeke woke up happy, but the emotion was fleeting.
Sunlight streamed into the room. He could tell because, though his eyes were closed, a bright orange haze played before his eyes.
His lips turned up.
He’d dreamed long and well. He’d imagined himself composing a song—the song that had been torturing him for months.
He hummed a few bars. It was the first time that he’d woken up and been able to hang on to any piece of the song.
He figured there was a reason that he’d finally had a breakthrough, and that reason was lying next to him. She was the primary reason that last night had been superb.
He moved his arm, reaching for her…and came up empty. Just to be sure, he moved his arm again experimentally, patting the mattress. Nothing.
Still, on the off chance that he was wrong, he swung his legs off the bed and padded out of the room naked.
After checking the bathroom and then the living room area, he had to face facts: she’d left without so much as saying Goodbye, thanks for a great time. And, to make matters worse, he didn’t even have her full name.
His stomach plunged. Damn it. He battled the urge to punch a wall until common sense kicked in. He could picture the headline in tomorrow’s paper if he gave in to frustration: Bad-boy Rocker Trashes Hotel Suite.
Stalking back to the bedroom, he raked his hand through his hair. He needed time to think. He had to find her—she was the key to his creativity. But he couldn’t go around broadcasting the fact that he’d just spent the night with a woman that he knew only as Caitlin.
His eyes landed on a telltale blood stain darkening the bed sheet, and he cursed. She’d seemed innocent, and she had been.
He had to find her. He felt as though he’d finally found what he’d been looking for, and now that he had, he wasn’t about to let her slip through his fingers.
He glanced at the alarm clock on the night table. It was still early.
While he mulled over what to do, he ordered breakfast from room service, then padded into the bathroom to shower and then dress. He knew from experience that before long, Marty and umpteen other people would be calling him about the day ahead. The only reason he’d gotten a bit of a reprieve this morning was because last night had been his last benefit concert for Musicians for a Cure for the time being.
By the time room service arrived, he’d hit on only one possible plan—other than hiring a private investigator. He figured Caitlin had probably bought herself a concert ticket in advance—probably with a credit card—so someone at the box office should have a full name on file. If he could just get access to that information…
Sitting down, he dug into a breakfast of pancakes, scrambled eggs and bacon. Absently, he flicked through the local newspapers that he’d requested be delivered to him along with breakfast.
Taking a sip of his coffee, he turned to Page Six of the New York Post to see if there was any mention of last night’s concert in the gossip columns…and nearly spewed his coffee.