Yours for the Night

by Samantha Hunter

  “As for the rest, looks like maybe you have some bumps in the road, a few explosions along the way—hey! I wonder if the Tower could be about orgasms? You know, lightning striking? Like getting thrown from the heights and into the waves of passion? I never thought about that—I like it! That would kinda mesh with what you see in the eight.”

  “Well, it would be nice if you’re right about the orgasms.” Raine laughed and slid off the seat, thinking about her experience with Rider two nights before. She hadn’t told Gwen about that. “But I need to think about what to wear. Come help me, okay?”

  Grabbing the check, she went to the counter to pay. Gwen left the tip on the table and followed her out the door into the brisk, bright air. “Okay, what to wear? Exactly how crazy do you want to make him on the first date?”

  * * *

  RAINE SAT on a stool at the bar feeling jittery and unsure. She swirled the little plastic stick around in her Manhattan, her hands cold even though heat from the whiskey had worked its way through her bloodstream and softly smudged her eyes and cheeks.

  It was a little after six—this wasn’t a good sign. Maybe he had changed his mind, maybe he had arrived, seen her, and just left without a word—he might have considered fantasy a better deal than the reality. She made a point of turning her back to the door. She didn’t want to know when. If.

  She looked down at her boots, swinging her foot. The soft black leather caressed her calf. The gray wool skirt had seemed sensible and still sexy, warm enough for the weather, exposing just a little leg between midthigh where the top of the boot met her knee. The deep green cashmere sweater was nice but not revealing, at least not in the obvious sense, though it clung to curves in all the right places and had attracted more than one admiring look when she had slipped off her jacket at the door. Gwen said the color emphasized her eyes, making them look like crystal-clear jade.

  Raine took Gwen seriously, which not everyone did, at least at first. But Gwen was smart, and she had style. The two women had a deep respect for each other and that had been the basis of their friendship almost from the start. Gwen was really the first close friend Raine had ever had, and Raine thought of her almost like a sister, though she never told Gwen that. She wasn’t one for gushing her emotions all over the place. When it came to her own life, she was never quite sure where the lines were between people, what was allowed and what wasn’t. So she tried to err on the safe side.

  Raising her fingers to the small pink rosebud that was clipped into her hair, she tried not to look at her watch yet again. Her nerves settled, her hopes started to fade, and she felt a little like a fool. Ten more minutes, and she would go home and forget about this for good.

  * * *

  JACK CURSED the weather. The drive had been much nastier than he had anticipated. The winter storm that passed by the night before had cleared out to sea, but it had left the roads slick and dangerous. Everyone was trying to get somewhere for the weekend, and he was caught in one traffic jam after another.

  His feet were freezing, and as much as he was looking forward to meeting Nilla—to put it mildly—he was very focused on getting warm. If getting warm with Nilla was in the cards, even better. But for the moment, he was so cold even thinking about that didn’t warm him enough. A few miles back, a college student—driving too fast and too confidently for the conditions—had spun off the road into a snowbank, directly in front of him.

  The kid was not hurt, but was not getting out of his predicament alone, so Jack climbed into snow up to his thighs to help dig the car out. He lost his beloved Red Sox cap in the wind, watching it whirl away into darkness. Jack sent the kid off again with a growling warning about driving more slowly before he killed someone else or himself.

  Though he had managed to brush off most of the snow, his pants were still a little damp. He was tired, hungry, and he seriously needed a drink.

  He spotted the restaurant and pulled into the first available parking space. The place was hopping, even at this early hour. He glanced at his watch. He was only fifteen minutes late, not too bad, all things considered. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, glad to shut the engine off and concentrate on why he was here.

  Reaching for the flowers he had brought with him, he shook off the agitation of the drive. His jacket was covered with salt and sludge, so he left it in the backseat and grabbed a fleece he had lying there.

  The night was clear and cold, and his heart was thudding deeply in his chest as he approached the restaurant. This was it. In another minute he would be looking at, handing these flowers to—touching—the woman who had been the focus of his dreams, waking and sleeping, for the last month. He steadied his breathing and walked through the restaurant door.

  He spotted her immediately, from the back. Seated at the bar, she was turned about three-quarters away from him, blond hair flowing down her back, a pink rosebud tucked sweetly behind her ear. Not white for purity, not red for passion, but something in between.

  Jack watched quietly as she leaned forward and laughed quietly with the bartender, who was pouring her another drink. The soft line of her jaw entranced him, and he stared, losing all sense of time or place. He frowned for a moment, feeling a prick of recognition, but ignored it.

  He forgot that he was cold, hungry and tired as he took in the graceful curve of her neck, the slope of her shoulder and the way her hair tumbled down over the womanly shape of her back. He flexed his fingers, imagining wrapping his fingers into it, getting tangled in all those silken strands.

  His mouth went dry as he followed the length of her body. She sat saucily on the stool, legs crossed at her very beautiful knees, the black leather boots offering only a hint of leg, making him lick his lips. Thank you, heaven.

  The bartender walked away, leaving her with her drink, and he saw her look at her watch, and observed how her shoulders lifted and fell slightly in what must have been a sigh. Taking a deep breath for courage, he stepped forward, quickly covering the space between them.

  He stopped and caught his breath when she suddenly spun around and slipped down off the stool, face-to-face with him. He stood stock-still, disbelieving, his brain and body frozen in shock. It was only a matter of seconds, but it seemed like seasons passed. She looked at him squarely.

  “Oh. Jack. Hi.”

  She didn’t appear shocked to see him, though she was less than thrilled, obviously. He realized she had no idea that he was there to see her. He didn’t—couldn’t—say anything. He watched her lean over, grab her purse, then her jacket. She looked miserable. She thought she’d been stood up.

  Conflict raged as he realized his out—he could let her think that her date was not coming, and just walk away. But when he saw the disappointment in her face, he couldn’t do it. Not that the alternative was going to get a much better response.

  “Um…yeah…” He had never been so truly lost for what to say. It was a cruel trick of the universe that the woman he had been dreaming about, sharing such intimacies with—hell, getting off on the phone with—was her.

  His brain still refused to process this new situation, but as she walked past him toward the door, he spontaneously reached out and grabbed her arm. She turned and looked at him, confused, and maybe a little peeved.

  “Excuse me?”

  There was only one way to deal with this, he figured. Jump right in. “I’m sorry I’m late.” His slightly strangled voice did not sound like his own. He tried to smile, but it didn’t quite work.

  She looked at him as if he had lost his mind and removed his hand from her sleeve.

  “Jack, I have no idea what you are talking about, but it looks like you have a date.” She tilted her head at the flowers. “If you’re late, you’d better get moving. Good night.” She turned toward the door again.

  He sighed, and took the leap. “You’re right. I do have a date. With you. Nilla.”

  She stopped and turned slowly to face him. He watched disbelief, and then shock, cross her features. She had such
an expressive face. Not saying anything, she just stared at him, her cheeks reddening. She dropped her purse, and looked as if she wanted to slap him.

  “You! Is this some kind of joke?”

  “No. No joke. I’m Rider, and you, apparently, are Nilla.”

  She just stared, and Jack took her elbow, steering her to the bar again, to sit.

  “Let go of me!”

  “Fine. This is not exactly what I expected, either, believe me.”

  She was still too horrified to really hear him or process what he was saying to her—this was the man she’d been sharing her intimate fantasies with? Jack, the guy from her office, was the mystery man she had phone sex with?

  Her heart sank into a pit of humiliation. She had helped him have an orgasm over the phone the same day they had exchanged swipes just a few hours earlier in her office! How could this be? He must have known. He must have set her up somehow; this must be an office prank. Her fingers tightened painfully on the edge of the bar.

  “Can I get you another drink? I could sure use one.” His voice was resigned.

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Have it your way.”

  He signaled the bartender and ordered a brandy, and they both sat there silently, looking dumbfounded. When she spoke, her voice was accusing.

  “Why aren’t you wearing the clothes you said you would? The Red Sox hat, leather jacket? Were you trying to trick me?”

  “Hardly. I had some trouble on the road, lost my hat and ruined my jacket. What do you take me for, anyway?”

  “I don’t know what to think about this. I mean you… We…”

  He watched the emotions play over her face, and felt like a cad, even though he had not done anything wrong. He sipped his brandy, trying to think of what to do next.

  “We have reservations. What do you say we make peace, laugh it off and go have dinner? We could at least talk about it. You have to admit, this is one hell of a coincidence.”

  “I’m going home.” She got up, walked toward the door then outside. How could she stay? How could she let him see how devastated she was? She would not—not—let a single tear escape, though it seemed as if several thousand of them were threatening.

  “Hey, you forgot this.” He was there again, right beside her in the parking lot, and she slid a quick look to see him handing her purse over. She hadn’t even realized she had dropped it. She reached out for it blindly, feeling the dam behind her eyes burst. She would not let him see her this way. She would never give him the satisfaction of knowing how much she had been looking forward to this. She hadn’t even realized that herself.

  Jack frowned. He was ready to go wallow in disappointment and beer for the rest of the evening, but the stiffness of her shoulders, the angle of her face—as if she couldn’t even look at him—it was just too much.

  He stepped around and took her shoulders in a firm grip, turning her toward him. The distressed sound she made concerned him, and he turned her face up to his, surprised to see fat tears streaming down her pale cheeks. She looked so sad it just about ripped his heart out.

  She tried to turn away, but he wouldn’t let her. He pulled her close against him and rocked her gently. She trembled in his arms, and he pulled back to look at her again, watching as snowflakes fell, melting with the tears that were staining her skin.

  Even now, she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, and though he didn’t want to acknowledge it, something tugged deep inside him. She was his lover, his Nilla, after all.

  He spoke, his eyes glued to hers, his voice rough.

  “I’m so sorry this is such a disappointment for you, Raine. Really. But it is just a coincidence. I promise. No tricks.”

  Puzzlement and distress mixed for a moment, and she couldn’t take her eyes off his face. Then, realizing her position, she broke away and turned toward the car, but felt his hand on her arm again. Looking up, she saw his mouth set in a grim line, but his eyes were warm as they moved over her.

  “C’mere. You can’t drive in this condition.”

  Her eyes widened as she felt the warmth of his fingers stroke her damp cheek, and her mind seemed to disengage in response to the unexpected gentleness; her breath caught. He was very close—how did he get so close?—everything about him was hot, solid and male. His eyes were like magnets.

  She heard him say her name as he moved in closer, but it was as if she was in a dream, frozen and unable to move. The flowers he had been carrying all this time fell onto the fresh blanket of snow at their feet. She knew this shouldn’t be happening, though somehow it was. She shouldn’t be allowing it to happen, but she had been waiting for so long.

  His large hand had solidly planted itself on the small of her back, supporting her, pulling her in just a bit closer. Her eyes held to his, and she shivered, though she wasn’t cold.

  He said her name again, and tilted his forehead against hers, their bodies pressed close, snow swirling all around them. The hand that had been on her shoulder fell to his side and found her fingers, stroked them, then wrapped them in his. Pulling her palm up to lay flat against his chest, their hands pressed between them, he angled his head and lowered his lips to hers.

  “Nilla.”

  She didn’t breathe, didn’t respond. He pressed his mouth on hers, then just rubbed gently back and forth, not so much an embrace as a greeting. He kissed each corner of her mouth, and she leaned toward him, seeking more. He pressed her closer, and she could feel the hardness of his chest and his heart pounding underneath the fleece.

  Of its own volition, her other hand touched his face, passed gently over the heat emanating from his skin. He tested, lightly sliding his tongue along her lips, wetting them. Melting against him, she slid her fingers upward, burying them in his hair as his lips pursued the kiss, nibbling hers, sucking her lower lip into his mouth, teasing it with his tongue. She felt her knees weaken, and opened for him, giving him full access to explore the insides of her mouth, and heard him groan inside of her as the kiss turned scorching.

  Never, in recent memory—hell, in her entire life—had she been kissed like this. It wasn’t really even a kiss, it was too consuming to be called that sweet of a thing. Her body was burning and aroused just from the crushing of his lips on hers, the feel of his tongue teasing the roof of her mouth, the gentle scraping of his teeth on her lip. God, she was raw, and didn’t realize how needy she was.

  When he sought her tongue, wrapped his lips around it and sucked it into his mouth, she moaned as she felt herself go hot and slick, knotted and ready. His hands were wrapped in her hair and she lost herself in tasting him. They blended, pressing into each other, stumbling back against the car.

  Jack hadn’t intended to become so encompassed by the kiss; touch her just once, he had taunted himself, just to know what it would be like, just for a moment. Just to comfort. But by God she was sweet, the way her hands had fisted into his shirt beneath his jacket, and now how they splayed across his chest, fingering his nipple absently, sending waves of desire pulsing through him. He couldn’t get deep enough into her mouth.... He wanted to drown in the honey he found there.

  After all the time, all the talk, all the imagining, he was desperate for her as he had never been for anyone before in his life. They twisted again, dancing around each other as the snow fell in a thick curtain around them. He found himself pushed back against the car, her lips never leaving his as they switched positions.

  She was demanding from him now, meeting fire with fire. He moaned into her mouth, and let her have him, let her have anything she wanted. He smiled and encouraged her as her hands moved down and closed firmly on his butt, grinding him against her until he was sure he was going to come.

  He had never been this hot with a woman before, and didn’t know it would be so intoxicating. He wanted to forget control and just be consumed. Her tongue lapped at his like a cat with milk, her fingers kneading him, and he wished he could feel more of her flesh against his. He breathed her name raggedly,
dangerously close to the edge as she pressed her hip against his straining erection. He pulled back, his voice rough.

  “Let’s go.”

  “Where?” Her heart was pounding so hard she could barely hear him, and she stayed leaning into him, afraid her knees would not support her.

  “Anywhere. Anywhere we can be alone.”

  5

  WARINESS STARTED to edge into her mind, but he stemmed it, kissing her hard, then pulling her close, his mouth by her ear.

  “Just for now, let’s forget everything else. I want you. I want you now. We’ve waited too long. Thought about it too much. Just this once. Let’s just take what we both want.”

  Beyond thought, Raine nodded, and fumbled for the keys in her purse, somehow managing with shaking hands to press the button that unlocked her car. He took the keys and opened the door.

  “I can drive.”

  “Listen, you’ve had a few drinks and no food, and a shock to boot. Just tell me where.”

  She walked to the passenger’s side, numb and on fire at the same time. Somewhere, deep inside her brain, she was thinking something wasn’t quite right, and she shouldn’t be doing this…should she? But the way he was looking at her when she slid into the car next to him blotted out reasonable thoughts. Never had a man looked at her in just that way—with that hungry, starving, I-want-to-eat-you-alive look that Jack was giving her now.

  She wanted him, too. He was right. They had waited a long time. In an urgent whisper, she told him how to drive to her place, and in a few minutes, like magic, they were there, and she was stepping out into the cold in front of her home.

  Everything still had that dreamlike quality, and when he came around the car and took her hand, she closed her eyes, not wanting the spell to break. Don’t think too much—don’t think at all—just let this happen. She felt a sharp tug on her hand, and she was facing him, in front of her door. His voice was quiet, his eyes intense.