Until Dawn

by Melinda Di Lorenzo

  “What?” My reply was almost a growl.

  “Are you married?”

  “What?

  “Married.”

  “Uh. No. Never been.”

  “A psychopath?”

  “Not that I’m aware of.”

  “If you were a psychopath or married, would you tell me?”

  “I don’t know. Probably not.”

  “Dammit.”

  Her mouth was still maddeningly close.

  But not close enough.

  “If you knew if I was married or a psychopath,” I said, “then I probably wouldn’t be a stranger.”

  “Oh. Good point.” She leaned up again, but stopped just shy of kissing me, her brown eyes wide.

  I stared down, somehow annoyed at the delay and amused at the same time. “More questions?”

  “Just one.”

  “Which is?”

  “Am I going to regret this?”

  “Only one way to find out.”

  She nodded, and her nose bumped against mine in a way that made me want to chuckle. The urge to laugh didn’t last long. She pulled back once more, shot me the sexiest, half-lidded stare I’d ever seen, then slammed her soft, sweet mouth into mine.

  * * * *

  Mia

  Kissing a stranger sounded like a weird thing to do. An insane one.

  Except as my body sank into the hard planes of the dark-eyed stranger, it just felt natural. Better than natural. It felt amazing.

  Erotic.

  Yes. That was the word. Dangerous and forbidden. Charged with heat and a passion that I was sure I’d never felt before. Maybe because I didn’t know him. No strings, little forethought, zero emotional connection. Kissing him sent a shock wave of uninhibited want through me, and I pressed harder against him.

  His mouth was firm and just the right kind of insistent. He tasted like clean rain. Like heaven. I wanted more. So much more. And my hands came up on their own to take it. They slid up his arms—and oh, my God were they covered in thick, roped muscle that made my heart beat faster just by virtue of its existence—then moved over his shoulders to clutch the back of his neck. My fingers found the edge of his thick hair and dug in. He groaned in response. The noise vibrated against my mouth, and my lips dropped open.

  His tongue took immediate advantage, diving in to tease and explore. I gave it back as thoroughly as I received it. I ran my own tongue over every inch of his mouth, then pulled away so that I could drop my teeth to his lower lip. I nipped it hard enough to make him hiss. For a second, I thought I’d taken it too far.

  But then his hands moved. They landed on my hips. His wide, strong palms gripped me tightly, and he pushed me across the lawn. The urgent motion made my bare feet slip on the soaked grass, but he didn’t let me fall. He was too sure and too strong. And in seconds, he had me pressed to the tree trunk.

  I was panting as he grabbed my wrists, lifted them over my head, and pushed them just shy of roughly against the bark. His knee found its way between my thighs, which reminded me that I still had my skirt hiked most of the way up. The fabric of his suit pants rubbed over my sensitive skin and the resulting sensation was a heady sting that made my legs drop open even farther.

  Like he had with my lips, the dark-eyed stranger took immediate advantage. He thrust against me—possessive and demanding—in a delicious circle. I could feel the length of his erection through the fabric between us, and my hips jerked forward, trying to draw him closer. He responded by driving himself against me even harder.

  Heat was building inside me. A quick spiral winding up tighter and tighter.

  And he’s barely touched you.

  Then, like he could read the thought, his hands started moving again. They released my wrists and dragged down my forearms in a sensuous dance. They paused at my elbows and gave a light squeeze before making their way down to my sides. There, they paused again. Each of his palms rested on the outside of my breasts. Not hesitant. Just as though he was looking for a sign that he wasn’t crossing a line. But the wait was excruciating. And I wasn’t sure that there were any lines or rules for this kind of scenario anyway. When his fingers started a slow slide inward, I couldn’t take it anymore.

  “Touch me!” I gasped.

  As soon as the words were out of my mouth, a wave embarrassment fought to overtake my more carnal needs. But it didn’t last long. He dipped his mouth to mine again, and as he gave me a deep, lingering kiss, he also obeyed my desperate command. His thumbs stroked my nipples. Back and forth, then around and around. In seconds, he’d drawn them out into needy points. And each insistent touch drove my desire higher. I couldn’t stop myself from moving against him. I didn’t want to stop. I didn’t want him to stop, either.

  And he didn’t.

  His mouth dropped to my throat, and one of his hands slipped between us. As his tongue and lips and teeth worked over my goose-bump-covered flesh, his fingers worked their way up my skirt. For several seconds, they rubbed along the lace of my underwear. It was exquisite torture. My arousal became a deep ache, begging to be soothed.

  It was the sexiest moment of my life.

  A stranger, with his hands on my most intimate parts.

  A stranger, claiming my skin with his mouth.

  A stranger.

  And I’d never been more turned on.

  “Please,” I said.

  I didn’t even know what I was begging for until one of his long, strong fingers pushed aside the lace of my panties. Then I knew what I was craving. And there was no time to think it through. No time to question again if I’d lost my mind, to wonder if I should be asking his name, or to consider a single, other thing. I was too busy drowning in pleasure. Moving to the rhythm he created, thrusting forward to drive his fingers in farther as his thumb circled my clit. And the spiraling heat continued its ascent, higher and higher, so that when his voice filled my ear—“Come, baby.”—I couldn’t have stopped myself from sailing over the edge if I tried.

  I shuddered against his hand, my whole body letting go of a tension I didn’t realize I was holding. I clung to him, riding the wave of release, while he just held me, one hand pressing firmly to my pulsating sex, the other running gently over my hair. He stayed that way for a minute, letting my ragged breathing calm itself before he pulled back enough to meet my eyes.

  His gaze was like liquid obsidian.

  “Okay?” he asked, low and raw.

  “Okay?” I repeated with a headshake. “That was…”

  “Don’t say a mistake.”

  “Definitely not a mistake.”

  A sexy little smile curled up his lips. “Good.”

  “Yes.” The word came out breathless, because his hand had started up again, its motion slight but undeniable. “Good.”

  He bent to run his tongue along my earlobe. “Not to be presumptuous. But I have a hotel room.”

  His finger was distracting, and my reply was a stammer. “A h-h-hotel room?”

  “Uh huh. Not that we have to go there. But I have a cab too.”

  “A cab?”

  “He’s waiting around the corner. Or he will be in a few minutes, anyway.” His teeth gave my ear a nip.

  I fought to retain control, wondering how I could possibly be getting turned on again so quickly.

  Really? said a little voice in my head. That’s what you’re worried about in this particular scenario?

  But it was true. My insides were warming again, and it was already getting harder to think. I had to work to focus on our conversation.

  “A hotel and a cab,” I made myself say. “You’re from out of town?”

  “Mm. Here for a little bit of business.” His finger slid into me once, then pulled out again. “Do you wanna talk about that right now?”

  “No,” I gasped. “Which hotel?”

&nbs
p; “The Regent Inn.”

  That was enough to bring my attention away from my increasing need. I suppressed a groan that had nothing to do with desire. My brother’s wedding was being held at the Regent, and I’d spent far too much time there recently to be guaranteed anonymity.

  The dark-eyed stranger picked up on the change in my mood right away. His hand ceased its movement, then slipped to my thigh. He met my eyes again.

  “No pressure,” he said sincerely. “At all. If you want to walk away and pretend you never met me, that’s okay.”

  I couldn’t quite stop a laugh. “I don’t think I have met you.”

  He smiled. “Right. I’m—”

  I pushed up and cut him off with a swift, firm kiss. “You don’t have to tell me.”

  He studied my face for a second. “I don’t have to tell you, or you don’t want to know?”

  “I don’t not want to know, but…” My face heated.

  “But what?”

  “I don’t want to, uh, ruin this?”

  His sexy little smile made another appearance, and his hand tightened on my thigh. “Ah. You like the mystery.”

  “Yes,” I admitted, distracted again by the way his thumb stroked my thigh.

  “So. The cab and the hotel?”

  “Not the Regent.”

  “Got something against the Regent?” he asked.

  “No. The Regent’s actually really nice,” I said. “But it’s a twenty-minute ride.”

  “I’m sure we could come up with something to do during that twenty minutes.” His fingers tapped teasingly over my leg.

  “We could…”

  “Or?”

  “Or we could take a four-minute ride to the Memory Motel and find something to do there.”

  “The Memory Motel, hmm?” He quirked a dark eyebrow in amusement, and it made me want to grin.

  I covered it by making a face at him. “It’s not an hourly place, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

  “Did I say that?”

  “You didn’t have to.” I reached up and gently touched his eyebrow. “This gave you away.”

  “Damned tell. I guess my chances of beating you at strip poker are pretty slim.”

  “Was that on the agenda?”

  “Were you hoping it would be?”

  “Maybe I was.”

  “Don’t be disappointed.” He bent to kiss me again, then snagged my purse from the ground and handed it over. “You wanna know what’s on the agenda now?”

  “What?”

  “Any damned thing you want.”

  The words sent a renewed wave of heat through me. And when he threaded his fingers through mine and tugged me across the grass, the warmth fanned out, and a laugh bubbled up from my chest and carried out over the sound of the rain.

  Chapter 3

  Ethan

  It took about thirty seconds in the cab—which had pulled around the corner just in time—to decide that forgoing my nice, cushy room at the Regent Inn was an excellent choice.

  With her eyes still on me, the redhead told the driver our destination, then dropped her hand onto my knee. Her fingers kneaded their way up slowly, and I had to clamp my jaw shut to keep from letting out a growl. Every drop of blood in my body was already repositioned between my legs. I had no chance in hell of making it twenty minutes.

  Thank God for the Memory Motel.

  I didn’t give a damn whether it really was a pay-by-the-hour place. I didn’t give a shit if it had saggy, threadbare sheets. Or a bed powered on quarters. All that mattered was getting the woman beside me into the room. Stripped down. And satisfying her again, because damn had I enjoyed watching her come undone under my attention. After that, I’d take my own, slow pleasure. With any luck, she’d like that as much as I’d liked bringing her to climax.

  Her fingers were just below crotch level now, and each movement pressed her closer to my painfully full erection. I held still. If I didn’t, I would buck against her. As it was, the moment her knuckles bumped my thick hard-on, a curse escaped my lips.

  “Fuck!”

  The cab driver shot a startled look at me via the rearview mirror. “Sir?”

  “I’m fine,” I managed to get out.

  The redhead let out a little laugh, and her hand slipped back down to my knee. Disappointed, I tipped my gaze her way. The disappointment slipped away immediately. Her mouth was tipped up a little on one side, her lips parted, and her breaths coming in and out rapidly. She was sexy as all hell. Her hand was on the move again too, inching up.

  My eyes wanted to drift shut, my hips wanted to thrust forward. Her touch was just the combination of giving and demanding. Christ, how I wanted to lose myself in it. My heart thudded against my rib cage in perfect time with the pulse of blood through my cock.

  She’s not even touching you there.

  It was true. She was just shy of giving me the rub I craved, and the second her knuckles did brush me in the right place, she dropped her hand yet again. Back to my knee. Back to the slow climb. It was sweet torture. I leaned my head back against the seat and took a masochistic moment of enjoyment as she repeated the tease again. Three more times, she managed to get her fingers just to the edge before dragging them away. Each time, she let herself touch me for a few seconds longer. The fact that I didn’t burst right through my zipper was a minor miracle.

  “Hey.” The redhead’s voice made me drag my eyes open.

  “Hey,” I said back, not bothering to disguise the raw heat in my voice; it wasn’t like she didn’t already know I wanted her.

  “We’re here.” She nodded out the taxi window. “What do you think?”

  I fought an urge to tell her I couldn’t care less about the motel, and made myself politely turn and follow her nod, expecting to find a strip of doors in a rundown building. Instead, I was pleasantly surprised by a beautifully restored heritage house. Lace curtains covered the soft glow of orange light inside, highlighting the exterior décor—brown on cream. A porch wrapped around the front, and a small, painted sign hung from it announcing that it was, in fact, the Memory Motel.

  “Well?” the redheaded prodded.

  I bent to whisper teasingly into her ear. “I don’t think this a by-the-hour place after all.”

  “I tried to tell you,” she replied.

  Chuckling, I pulled my wallet out and handed a stack of bills to the driver. I waved off his offer to give me change back as I jumped from the car and offered the redhead my hand. I’d already decided his exorbitant, near-extortive cab fare was worth it.

  Just like my ruined suit’s worth it, I thought as I slammed the taxi door. And the mud-soaked clothes in my suitcase are worth it. And—

  “Shit,” I said.

  “What?”

  “I left my damned bag in the middle of the street.”

  “You want to go back and get it?”

  The cab was already pulling away. My gaze flicked from the disappearing vehicle to the redhead’s freckle-covered face and soaking-wet blouse. Desire leapt back to the forefront on my mind, and I realized that even if I’d thought I could chase down the taxi, I had no desire to do it.

  “I can buy new things,” I told her.

  “Seriously?” she replied.

  “All I want is to get a room, get you naked, and kiss you head to toe.”

  Her skin pinked between her freckles. “Then what are you waiting for?”

  “Fuck if I know,” I said.

  I started to grab her hand again, then thought better of it, and instead reached down to scoop her off the ground.

  “Hey!” she protested.

  “Hey,” I said back, grinning. “Wait. Didn’t we just have this conversation?”

  “Possibly. You don’t really think you’re going to carry me up there, do you?”

  “
I do.”

  “You can’t.”

  “I can. And I will.”

  I squeezed her a little tighter, enjoying the way her very curvy body fit against me. Her round ass hung down just enough to bump against my still-hard cock. The thought that she could probably feel it with each step made me smile.

  “Are you sure you’re not a maniac?” she asked as I stepped up the stairs. “Because you’re grinning like one.”

  I deliberately bared my teeth at her. “Could be.”

  “You said you weren’t—”

  “Uh-uh. You specifically asked if I was psychotic.”

  “That’s different than being a maniac?”

  “Definitely.” I paused at the top of the steps. “Unless that makes you want to leave. In which case, I swear I’m also not a maniac.”

  “Are you just saying whatever you need to so that you can take me to bed?” she asked.

  “Possibly.” I kissed her soft, sweet mouth, then sobered to add, “If you’re having second thoughts…”

  She shook her head. “Weirdly. None.”

  “Glad to oblige your weirdness,” I teased.

  She grabbed my tie and pulled me in for another kiss. “Just take me inside.”

  “You got it.” I tightened my hold again, started to push my way through the door, then stopped again.

  “What now?” she asked, amusement laced with impatience.

  “What’s our story?”

  “What?”

  “Are we illicit lovers, pretending to be husband and wife? Or a real husband and wife, having our first night away from the kids in years?”

  “Why? Are you ashamed to admit that I’m a strange woman who fell from a tree?”

  My mouth twitched. “It just seems a bit unrealistic.”

  “Does it?” she replied.

  “Yep. But you’re right. The truth is always best.”

  I shoved my shoulder to the door and pushed the rest of the way in, then strode up to the desk and announced, “We’re strangers. She climbed out a window and landed in my lap. We’re going to do all kinds of kinky things. Can we have a room?”

  The redhead let out a choked-sounding laugh. “Please?”

  “Please,” I added.