by Kelly Kay
There’s a sexy heat radiating off him, like wavy lines in a desert. I’m flushed and flustered just being in proximity to him. Fuck, he’s hot. I wish I had makeup on or a low cut anything instead of this stupid tourist t-shirt. My nipples are starting to rise against my bra as he holds my gaze.
“I might have a bruise from his fingers, but other than that, I’ll be fine.”
He moves to face me and crooks an eyebrow. “You bruise that easily?”
I pull my long bang out of my face and tuck it back behind my ear, and his full lips curl up on one side. They’re lush and inviting. He licks them. Buckets of adrenaline dump into my system as my nerve endings all fire at once. My stomach twists, and my mind begins to imagine what he tastes like. The whiskey is doing its job. I can feel the flush from my chest starts to creep up to my face. I don’t know if I have words, my breath has yet to return. The old man staggers away as my sexy savior turns back to me, removing his hand from my shoulder. Damn, put your hand back on me sexy savior. Forward flirting bursts out of my mouth, I can’t stop it. He’s too damn hot.
“I don’t bruise all that easily. I’m tougher than that.”
“I’ll file that information away.”
He winks and instantly, my panties are soaked. I cannot look away from him. It’s as if the rest of the bar just disappeared and we’re the only two people alive. His voice is deep and rumbling. His eyes are locked on me. I feel it down through my barstool. His hands look gentle and manicured, but this overall person seems rugged. His body is clearly well taken care of and something I’m becoming more intrigued with by the second.
“Please sit.”
He takes his hands and runs them through his overly styled hair and exhales. “We’re drinking whiskey?”
“We are. Bourbon. Basil.”
“Perfect.”
“Isn’t it, though?”
He winks again as one appears for him and another for me. He reaches across my body to get his drink and my skin sears where he brushes it. He pauses as if he feels the heat bloom on my skin as well. My confidence increases with every moment he stares at me. Not a creepy stare, but one that is sensual and intriguing. Can’t imagine what he sees, but I’ll try to work my t-shirt and jeans. I’m mortally embarrassed about my appearance. I realize how little I must have cared for Asher. I didn't even swipe on mascara or concealer tonight. I'm not even wearing lip balm.
I don’t go anywhere unless I am show-ready. And here I am, trying to make a connection with this man in what amounts to weekend gardening clothing. Not that I garden, I just imagine this is what gardeners wear. I need to make an excuse to bend over so he can see one of my better assets. He brushes my skin again in search of a cocktail napkin. I involuntarily take in a sharp breath through my teeth while he crooks an eyebrow at me.
He says, “Well, tonight just got more interesting.”
Chapter Sixteen
Joshua
Who in the fucking hell is this? And what god did I please that she’s here alone and ripe for the taking? Drinking bourbon and not wine. Not a fruity cocktail, but alone sipping expensive bourbon. Perhaps she’s my karmic gift for having to fucking come back home to stop shitty business decisions. I fucking hate babysitting. I hate that I have to be in the town at all. I’m irritated by everything and everyone except this gorgeous creature in front of me.
This one who fills out her jeans in all the right places. Her breasts are a perfect size, and I can see her nipples pulling into her bra. I want them. I’m so sick of the silicon set. The overly done faces and buckets of lip gloss. She’s so pure and perfect. I want to fucking have her translucent skin under my fingers tonight. Her face is stunning. Her skin and her bone structure are flawless.
Her voice is deeper than I imagined. She looks feminine and petite, but there’s a throaty, sexy quality to it. My need to possess this woman is instantaneous and something I’ve never really felt before. I don’t think I can walk away from her, even if she asked. If she’s feeling even a portion of what I feel right now, she won’t walk away either. I’ve just been staring at her while we both sip our drinks.
She straightens up, and her golden hair falls back into her gorgeous face. “The first part of my evening was a disaster. You might have to work a little harder to make it up to me.”
“I can certainly try.” Game on. I swallow down my drink and motion for another. I am compelled to take her hair and tuck it back behind her ear. I am in control of everything in my world outside of this bar. Yet I feel the need to touch her like I need to breathe. What the fuck is this? She’s still sipping, and I can’t stop staring at her rosy lips and the way they curl into a sly smile. I’m watching her delicate finger bend around the glass, and I am hyper-aware of the way she crosses her ankles. She’s wearing red ballet flats. Simple and perfect but she seems anything but.
She cocks her head and turns her body towards mine. She stares at me straight on, and a small and joyful grin springs up on her face.
Holy hell, this woman is fucking gorgeous, quick-witted, and at Steiner’s, which is a complete mystery to me. I rarely come in here but just needed a quick drink to settle my night before my annoying meetings tomorrow. But now her tight little ass sitting on that stool in skinny jeans that should be illegal will be my nightcap. I want to pummel the idiot drunk doctor for trying to attack her.
Her eyes are as vivid green as the Tanqueray bottle that’s behind her at the bar. Her skin seems to be soft and is reflecting the light. She’s pearlescent and luminous except for the bit of blush creeping over her t-shirt neck. She may be local, but I don’t think so. Despite the messy mass of sunny blonde hair and lack of makeup, she seems more sophisticated than this town. Her highlights are subtle and expensive. No one in this farm town can do that or would bother spending that kind of money. She’s sitting on a ruby cashmere wrap that looks luxe, but she doesn’t care. She holds herself regally. I’m drawn in and drawn to her.
I don’t want to be me tonight. I don’t want her to be a local and know people in common. Hell, I’m only here for the night. I drove up from Santa Barbara today, taking the day off work. I drove up because there's a weasel I need to take care of. And now I lost out on a critical deal because of the drive. It pisses me off, but the volume of all that bullshit has been turned down by her smile.
I want to be whatever she needs me to be. I’m looking forward to peeling down those jeans. I am going to lick her from stem to stern. I'll suck all the places in between. My mouth is watering at the smell of her. If I’m not mistaken, it’s lilacs and orange blossoms. She turns to face me again and leans on the bar towards me. Now I want to bend her over the bar right here. She shoots her drink, and I gesture for two more.
“Who are you?” she asks.
I play with her, “No one of consequence.”
“Do I call you hero or savior?”
“Lord and savior will be fine.” I lay my arm on the bar and just stare right into her eyes.
“Okay.” She sits up straight on her stool and without missing a beat says, “So God, what do you do?” I laugh at her joke. She’s got a bit of sass. No one in my everyday life talks to me like that. I like it. I want her to scream the word god in another way entirely.
“I’m Joshua. And you are?” She takes a moment to answer like she’s trying to decide who she’s going to be tonight. Besides mine.
“Elle. Nice to meet you, Joshua. But I think I might just call you Suit.”
“Why?”
“Your Kiton blazer seems more Cafe LaHaye than Steiner’s.”
How is this fucking woman a local? She knows the town. But she is also quite aware that I’m wearing a seven-thousand-dollar Kiton cashmere blazer. I know this town is full of farmers but also incredibly intelligent and accomplished people who escaped major metropolises with fat wallets and dreams of a simpler life. I haven’t been here in a while, but surely someone would have told me about a girl like this. I’m not sure I can screw a townie. Who the hell are you,
Elle? Why do you know fashion? Men’s fashion?
I ask, “Do you work at the Sunflower Cafe?” Looking for a little intel. She also doesn’t have a phone on the bar. Is she without technology? My phone is going off in my pocket with updates from tonight’s meeting, and I ignore it as I await her answer.
She quickly explains, “No. Just a fan. I found myself without clothes, so I picked up a couple of Sonoma-themed items. I don’t live here, just visiting.”
Fucking perfect. I can’t deal with the aftermath of someone the next day. “No clothes?”
She explains, “Nothing comfy and cozy. Just outfits to impress or make me feel pretty.”
I lean forward towards her and say, “You don’t need an outfit for that.”
“Are you seriously this charming?”
“Are you charmed?”
She draws a quick breath and says, “Apparently so.”
I want her to know that I’m dead fucking serious, so I stare into her mesmerizing eyes. “I’m completely serious.”
She grins and bites her bottom lip and then looks down at her drink. Her eyes slowly return to me, and I haven’t looked away. She says quietly, “Thank you.” Then she shifts on the stool and pulls back from me for a second. I lean back as well.
I ask her in a less flirtatious tone, “What is it that brings you to Sonoma and Steiner's in particular?” I don’t want to scare her off.
She says quickly, “An opportunity and a disaster.”
“Life-changing?”
She bites her bottom lip again, and I want to be the one biting it. I refocus as she answers, “Yes, to the first and no to the second. Turns out the disaster was just an annoying waste of time, good lipstick, and my favorite blue dress.”
“I think I prefer the t-shirt and cashmere thing you got going on.”
“You haven't seen the blue dress.” She flashes a suggestive smile.
My nerves flex. They all spark at once. My brain instantly conjures an image. What the fuck is it about this woman? I’ve never found a comfy outfit a sexual turn-on, but suddenly it’s all I can think about. I imagine this woman curled up on a giant bed, surrounded by pillows and sunlight streaming in through the window reflecting off her sparkling emerald eyes. She’s dressed in stretchy pants and one of my old t-shirts. In my fantasy, she’s trying to hold onto a cup of coffee. I slowly kiss my way up to her face. Her hand on my knee pulls my attention back to her in reality.
“Are you okay?”
I adjust myself on my stool to try and shake the image. I say, “I am. Was just thinking an extremely uncharacteristic thought.”
“Hmm. Care to share?” She just moaned at me like a preview. Her voice reverberates through my balls, and I’m going to need to fuck her to stop them from vibrating.
“Maybe someday, but it’s rather dark and disturbing.” I’m genuinely rattled by imagining her in a domestic situation. I don’t fucking do domestic. And I don’t even know this woman.
“Twisty has its place.”
Shit. She did not say that. “What do you do, Elle?”
“No jobs, Suit. Let’s just do random truths. Random questions. What food would you eat if you could eat anything in the world right now?”
Her. I’d eat her. That’s what I’m hungry for. I say instead, “A local carne asada burrito. And you?”
She thinks, and then a melancholy smile overtakes her. “Fresh corn on the cob.”
I play her game and ask my own random question. “An intriguing answer. What nonalcoholic beverage would you order right now?”
“Coffee. Or Pamplemousse La Croix.”
I laugh at her, “What the hell is Pamplemousse?”
She explains, “Marketing speak for grapefruit. And you?”
I laugh again. “San Pellegrino. And coffee. I don’t trust anyone who doesn’t like coffee.”
She looks down and drains her bourbon. I do the same, and I feel as if we’re at a crossroads. Order more, risk getting drunk and ruining this evening, or get on with part two of the night. We’ve talked about nothing. We’ve barely talked at all. Kind of flirted, yet I think that’s enough for me. I don’t need to know anything else about her to want to screw her into submission right now.
She leans over and places her fingers on my hand. My cylinders are firing. I’m seriously like a moth to a flame. My cock twitches, and I struggle to keep it down. I have to have her and in so many different ways. I look down at her long delicate and freshly manicured fingers as they trace my hand and run up my arm then back to her exceptionally beautiful face.
“Um...New girl?” I say wryly.
“Yes?” Her voice is a vamped-up babydoll whisper—and inviting.
“You’re playing with a bit of fire.” I look down at her hand then up to her face again. As much as I want to devour her, she seems somewhat predatory herself.
“Not afraid.” She states with the best lip curl I’ve ever seen.
In one motion, I yank the back of her head to me and stop just short of my face. Her mouth opens in a sexy as hell gasp, and her whole body leans towards mine.
I emit a guttural whisper, “There’s no going back from this.”
She runs her hands up my jeans and stops just short of my crease. I’m absolutely hard as she glances down and grins. This sexy little thing has just made my year. It’s been a shitty one. She’s also made me completely forget about how pissed off I am that I’m up here in Sonoma. Now it may turn out okay. I’m glad there seems to be a bright spot, at least for tonight. What the hell is wrong with me? Why would I think past tonight?
“Promise?” she whispers back.
I lean into her ear. My lips brushing her with each word, “Oh, I promise this. I’m going to fuck you so hard you’ll feel me all day tomorrow.”
Her lips tug upwards slightly. I wait to see if I pushed too far, too fast or if this is my girl.
Then she sighs and says in that babydoll whisper that going to ruin me, “Promise?”
I crush my mouth to hers, and she responds with a moan that almost makes me come. Her tongue quickly finds mine, and we’re bruising our lips further with intense pressure. She pulls back, and I suddenly panic that I misread tonight.
She stands up and raising her arms in the air and proclaims to the entire bar. “Thank fucking god you’re a good kisser. And you know what to do with your tongue.”
“Oh, we’re just getting started.”
I tug her between my legs with my hands on her hips. I take her lips again. I know she can feel me, and she’s slightly moving her hips into me. I could seriously spend the next couple of hours kissing her. Her hands end up in my hair and fuck it if it doesn’t feel insanely good as she drags those hot pink nails against my scalp. I pull her closer to amp up this kiss. I’m possessed by her as her tongue flicks with mine. I need those nails to scratch down my back. I got her. I know she needs this as much as I do. She pulls back again and says two fucking sexy words, and I’m done. “El Dorado.” And I toss a wad of cash on the bar.
Chapter Seventeen
Elle
This man’s mouth is every fucking thing. I am never this forward, but I can't help myself. And it’s just one night. I can be whoever I want. But being around this man, insanely attracted to him, I abandon all of my so-called rules for sex. We’ve exchanged no real information. His pillow lips and the way his tongue slips in and out of me is my new favorite thing. Nothing sloppy or awkward, only heat.
I’m surprised I didn’t slide off the stool. I can have sex, get off, and still get a good night’s sleep before tomorrow. It’s only 8:30 pm, it’s perfect timing. We scurry out of the bar and down the block towards my hotel. A couple doors down, he stops and pulls me to him. He backs me into a closed storefront window and presses forward.
“How did I get this lucky tonight? You’re so sexy and beautiful. And funny. Sexy and funny. Where the hell have you been?” He pulls a stray hair and tucks it behind my ear again, and I’m gone, lost in those deep blue eyes.
/> Then I answer him as earnestly as he spoke to me. “It took me a while to get here, but it seems as is if I’m finally in the right place at the right time.” I guess I can thank Asher for that.
He seizes me with his hands on either side of my face, and we kiss long and deep. There are sparks on my tongue, crackling with desire and energy. I dig my nails into his shoulders. I move my body towards him. He nudges my legs apart with one of his, and I end up rocking on his thigh. This is more than I’ve felt in a while. I’m dry-humping him on the street. Now I need him to lose the jeans. I’m aching for release. I back away from the kiss, both of us with ragged breathing. I grab his hand and run towards El Dorado Hotel, pulling him behind me and bolting upstairs.
The night manager looks strangely at me since I walked Asher out of here a couple hours ago. Whatever. If he looked into this man’s eyes and saw the same desire, he’d be running upstairs too.
We’re on the other side of the door, and he’s yanking me to him as I pull off his jacket. I throw it on the floor. Very different than earlier, a very different man. I just remembered I have on insanely sexy underwear.
I’m so wet for this man that this pair is toast. They’re black lace panties with a leather crisscross peekaboo back. My bra matches with leather strips and lace. Hope he likes my ass. He seems to, he is squeezing it with manly intensity.
“Elle. I need you to tell me what you want. That you want what I want too.” I kiss him again. “Words. I need you to say it.” He looks at me earnestly as if he’s looking for consent or a partner in tonight. Not just a conquest. I’m happy to be his co-conspirator.
I pull his head down to me as I go up on my tiptoes and lick his ear while I whisper, “You. I want you. All of you. Anything you want to do to me is okay with me, as long as I can reciprocate.”
“Glad to hear it.” He undoes the button of my jeans and reaches his hand into me, and his fingers probe south. I gasp and roll my hips forward. His lips never leave mine. I’m so happy someone else is touching me.