by Noelle Adams
She frowned. “Excuse me?”
He arched his eyebrows.
She couldn’t help but giggle at his teasing leer. No man had the right to be quite so sexy. “I can have sex, you mean.”
“Yes, you can.”
“Is that what you do?”
“Have sex?”
“Sex without a relationship.”
“Yes.” He raised his glass to swallow down the last of his whiskey. Then he gestured to the bartender to refill his glass and hers.
“Is that all you ever have?”
“Yeah. I’m not into commitments anymore.”
“Were you at one time?”
“I was.”
She glanced at her phone one more time and saw that her date was thirty minutes late. There was no way she was interested in hooking up with him now when he hadn’t even sent her a message about not showing up. She slid her phone into her bag and accepted the new glass of wine the bartender had poured. “All right. So what’s the story of your life then?”
He adjusted on his stool, hesitating for a moment. Then he pulled out his phone and pulled up a picture the way she had earlier. He handed it to her. “I’m from Des Moines. This is my family.”
She studied the screen of his phone, processing the twenty or so people gathered into the frame. She saw him right away in the back row on the side. There looked to be parents and grandparents and siblings and children.
“How big is your family?”
“I have two brothers and a sister. They’re all married, and they all have kids. I’m the youngest.”
“And you’re not married?”
“No.”
“And you have no kids.”
“No.”
“What do they think of you?”
“They’ve decided I’m in some sort of early midlife crisis.”
“Midlife crisis? How old are you?”
“Twenty-seven.”
“Twenty-seven! Why do they think it’s a midlife crisis?”
“Because I’ve spent most of my life doing what everyone else did. Following the herd, like you said. I played sports and got good grades in school. I went to a local university. I got a good, boring job.”
“What job?”
His mouth twisted slightly, and he didn’t answer.
Genuinely fascinated now, she didn’t even think about potentially being rude or pushy. She simply wanted to know more. “What job?”
“CPA. I was an accountant. I got a good job, bought a house in the same neighborhood as my parents, found a woman I thought I liked, and asked her to marry me. My life was… vanilla. For years and years. Nothing but vanilla. I did what everyone expected me to do. I worked hard every day. I followed all the rules. And then…”
“Then what?” she breathed, leaning toward him.
“Then… bam.”
She blinked. “What was the bam?”
He shook his head, looking away from her for the first time. “Sometimes something happens that proves to you that the world you’re living in isn’t the world you want. It… changes everything.”
“What happened?”
“It doesn’t matter. It changed everything. I didn’t want my job, so I quit. I didn’t want my house, so I sold it. My fiancée didn’t want the man I was turning into, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to spend the rest of my life with her anyway, so we broke up. I moved. I started to live my life differently—not doing what anyone expects me to do, just doing what I feel like at any given moment. I don’t try to fight the current anymore. I ride the tide. Things happen to you in life. It’s easiest to just let them happen.”
“You have to support yourself somehow, don’t you?”
“Yeah. Sure. I have a lot of savings from years of being a good boy, and I’ll still do some work around tax time. But…” He gave his head another one of those little shakes, like he was trying to brush something out of his mind. “I’m not going to go into an office every day. And I’m not going to make promises to women that I’m not sure I can follow through on. I’m just going to… ride the tide.”
“Wow,” she breathed, thinking through his story and wondering what had happened to him to make such a dramatic change in his life. It was clear he wasn’t going to tell her, and she wasn’t in any position to nag him about it—although she still really wanted to know. “I guess we’re kind of in opposite motion then.”
“In what way?”
“I’m looking for roots, for stability. And you’re trying to tear all your roots out of the ground.”
“Yeah. That’s exactly right.” He held her eyes for a long time, and it was one of those strange moments of bonding that hit you unexpectedly—when all of a sudden you catch a glimpse of someone else’s soul. It moved her, took her breath away.
It must have hit him that way too. Or something similar. Because he reached out and put his hand lightly over hers, which was resting on the bar. His fingertips very lightly stroked over her knuckles, and the little touch sent intense shivers all through her body.
“Maybe you should try it,” he murmured, a husky texture in his voice that was new.
“Try what?”
“Living for the moment, riding the tide, doing what you want. Just for the night.”
Her lips parted. “Are you…”
“I am.”
“You’re suggesting…”
“I’m suggesting.”
“You want us to…”
He leaned closer to her, his green eyes deep and mesmerizing. “Yes, I want us to. But only if you want to too. What do you say? Try to have some fun just for the night.”
Never would she have considered going to bed with a man she’d just met like this. She didn’t even know his name.
She was a careful person. She had certain things she wanted in life, and she was resolved to make them happen for her.
She didn’t ever—ever—ride the tide and let things happen.
But she felt strangely close to him, and he was the sexiest person she’d ever met in her life.
And what would be so wrong about having a little fun, doing something just for her?
His mouth quirked irresistibly just then. “Unless you want to sit around and wait to see if your date is going to show up.”
“No. I’m not going to wait for him.” She hesitated, and she appreciated the fact that he backed off, waiting for her to make her decision.
She wanted a stable, rooted, settled life, but she also wanted to have fun occasionally.
Why couldn’t she branch out a little—do something wild and spontaneous? She wasn’t likely to ever meet a man she wanted as much as she wanted this one. She couldn’t even imagine anyone as sexy as him.
“All right,” she said at last. “Why not?”
Two
WHEN LUCAS BRADFORD had gone to the bar next door to his hotel an hour ago, he’d had no plans to hook up with a woman. He’d just wanted to get out of the room, have a drink, look at something other than the television.
So when the tiny blonde had come in with her big bag and her high boots and her gorgeous body, he’d not set out to make a move on her. He hadn’t even planned to talk.
But she was interesting. And genuine. And prettier as each moment passed. And the sudden, unnerving moment of emotional connection they’d experienced had really moved him.
He could usually find a woman to have sex with him when he wanted it, but he couldn’t always get his first choice. A lot of women didn’t want one-night stands, and a lot of women would never go home with a stranger. He hadn’t really expected this one to accept his suggestion, but he couldn’t help but ask her.
So his blood was coursing with anticipation as he walked with her over to his hotel and then up to the second floor to his room.
The room was fairly neat—since he’d just gotten there that afternoon and hadn’t bothered to unpack—so he led her inside and saw her looking around with that forthright interest she’d shown him earlier.
“H
ow long are you staying?” she asked.
“Just tonight.” He was relocating to Blacksburg and was moving into his apartment tomorrow, but he didn’t tell her that. That was the good thing about a one-night stand. Details about one’s life were unnecessary.
She let her leather bag slip onto the floor, and she asked, “Do you do this a lot?”
“Do what?”
“Ask strange women into your room for sex?”
He chuckled. He liked how direct she was. He liked that she didn’t play games. He answered her honestly. “Sometimes. It’s the only way I have sex now.”
“Have you ever slept with a prostitute?”
He shook his head.
She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Have you ever slept with a man?”
He shook his head again, surprised and curious at the questions.
“How old was the oldest woman you’ve slept with?”
“Around fifty.”
Her eyebrows arched slightly, and Lucas was pleased he’d surprised her. Then she asked, “How young was the youngest?”
“When I was seventeen, I slept with a girl who was sixteen. Since I’ve been an adult, the youngest was nineteen or twenty. She was in college.”
“What was the best sex you’ve ever had?”
He wondered if she was stalling with questions because she was nervous. He took a step closer to her and replied in a low voice, “I’m assuming it will be tonight.”
Instead of responding, she giggled. “Oh, you’re good.”
He grew still, a bit unnerved by her response.
Her full lips turned up in a flirtatious smile. “What was your bam?”
The question out of context would have been confusing, but he knew exactly what she was asking. She wanted to know what had happened to him. She wanted to know what had changed his life.
He didn’t tell anyone. He didn’t want to be defined by something he’d had no control over. He didn’t like to think about it, remember it. And he suspected that, after he said it out loud, it wouldn’t seem as life-changing to another person as it did to him. So he was sincerely surprised when he was on the verge of admitting it to her—for no good reason. He even opened his mouth to begin.
But then he shut it again. A fleeting connection—both emotional and physical—could be enjoyable, but anything more than that was dangerous. There was no reason to invest too much in this encounter since he’d never see her again after tonight.
Lucas had come to Blacksburg for another new start—one in a series of new starts he’d made for himself in the past two years—and he didn’t want the bitter truth hanging over him on his very first night here.
Instead of speaking, he shook his head. “Does it matter?”
Her face fell slightly, but she clearly hadn’t expected him to tell her. “No. It doesn’t. I just wanted to know.”
She looked almost irresistible, standing in his hotel room, looking at him with wide blue eyes. Her blond hair was loose and shoulder-length, hanging in slightly tousled waves that appeared natural rather than styled. Her small body was firm and shapely, set off by those sexy boots and the way her top stretched across her breasts. Her eyes and mouth were a little too large for her face, but he liked that about her. Her clothes, her makeup, her whole manner was unique, original, full of personality.
His body started to tighten as his eyes moved from her face to her breasts to her legs and back up again. After their conversation, he wanted more than just her body. He wanted her to give all her bright, sharp spirit to him. He wanted to feel all of it against him in bed.
He took a step closer to her and pulled her into a kiss, tangling the fingers of one hand into her hair. She kind of melted against him, so it was clear she wanted him too. Her body was soft and small and deliciously eager as she pressed against him and opened to his kiss.
He was fully aroused in no time, sliding a hand down to her bottom and pressing her pelvis snugly against him. He was really getting into the kiss, his head roaring with arousal and his body as hard as hard could get, when he felt her withdraw slightly.
First her mouth broke away from the kiss, and then, gasping softly, she took a step back.
He immediately released her, although his stomach dropped with a hard thud of disappointment and his body screamed at him to pull her against him again. “What’s the matter?” he asked, as breathless as she was.
“Sorry,” she said, making one of those twisting expressions that was somewhere between embarrassment and reluctance. “It was good. I don’t know. I don’t… know. I just got… nervous or something. I mean, I did… I do want this. It’s just that you’re a stranger, and…”
She met his eyes, and her expression distracted him from the hot arousal still pulsing through him.
She was nervous.
She was a little bit scared.
He let out a rush of air and took a step back from her. “Yeah. Sure. I get it.” His dick wasn’t at all pleased with what his voice was saying, but he’d never given his dick control of his will, and he wasn’t about to start now.
“I’m sorry,” she said, her face twisting even more. “I feel like an idiot.”
“You shouldn’t. You don’t know me. And I know there are guys who… You don’t know me. You can leave. Right now if you want. Or we can go somewhere else—back to the bar or something—and just…” He didn’t finish the sentence since he assumed she would simply walk out.
He wouldn’t blame her. There were a lot of assholes out there. And some guys who were worse than assholes. Even a cursory glance at the news over the past year would prove how true that was. She would have no way of knowing if he was one of those men. Not from an hour’s worth of conversation and one (very hot) kiss.
He’d have to go find the workout room in this hotel and run hard on a treadmill for about two hours to work off all the tension after she left, but he wouldn’t blame her for not making herself completely vulnerable to a man she didn’t know.
He wouldn’t blame her at all.
She stared down at the floor and threaded her fingers together in a restless gesture. “Okay, now maybe I don’t want to go.”
“Really?” he asked with a jerk of his head.
With a nervous giggle, she said, “You should see your face.”
“What? Did I look kind of excited?” he asked dryly, feeling strangely self-conscious. He’d had a lot of one-night stands before, and in not one of them had he felt like this. Slightly insecure, as if he were treading new territory just as she was.
“A little. I really don’t mean to be wishy-washy, but I don’t feel nervous anymore. So maybe…”
He could see that she was still torn, and no matter how much he wanted to have sex with her, he didn’t want to have sex unless she wanted it as much as he did. He cleared his throat and said, “I don’t think you’re being wishy-washy. I think you’re trying to decide what you want. If you want to do this, we could figure out a way to make sure you’re comfortable. What about if you take control of it? You could decide what we do and when. Or if you need more time, do you want to go get another drink while you decide? Or, no, maybe not a drink. We could get dessert or something. We don’t have to stay in this room.” He was rambling on, and he felt stupid about it, but he was doing his best.
She stared at him for a minute, her expression soft, almost awed.
He stared back at her, wondering how he’d stumbled on doing the right thing for once in his life.
That look in her eyes…
His dick was howling at him in protest, but he ignored it, as any decent human being would.
He’d do a lot more than be a decent human being to prompt that look in her eyes.
“All right,” she said softly. “Let’s go get some dessert while I decide.”
He smiled at her, and she smiled back, and when he walked over, she took his arm as they turned toward the door.
They’d gotten as far as where she’d dropped her bag when she suddenly
turned to face him.
“All right,” she said in a different tone. “I’ve made up my mind.”
He gazed down at her, momentarily disoriented.
His mind cleared quickly enough when she reached up to pull his head down into a kiss.
He kissed her urgently since his body had immediately leaped back into action, but after a minute he asked against her mouth, “Are you sure?”
“Yeah. I’m sure.”
“Fuck, am I glad to hear that.”
She laughed against his mouth as he pressed her body against his again. His erection was pulsing in hard throbs, the hot desire rippling out to saturate his whole body. She felt so small against him. Small and soft and incredible. Both his hands went down to cup her bottom.
He couldn’t believe he was allowed to touch her like this. He couldn’t seem to stop.
“Did you mean what you said?” she asked, pulling out of the kiss briefly.
“Probably. What did I say?” His mind was a heated blur now, so he hoped he hadn’t missed an obvious thread of the conversation.
“About letting me have control?” Her blue eyes were big and questioning.
“Yes. I meant it. We can definitely do that. Did you like that idea?”
“Kind of.”
For some reason he was getting more excited than ever. Her expression was slightly shy and slightly naughty, and it was the sexiest thing he’d ever seen. Reminding himself that he had to follow through with what he said, he dropped his hands to his sides and said, “Your call then. Tell me what to do.”
She was smiling, but then she glanced from the bed to him and then back to the bed. “I hope you’re not expecting anything very creative. I don’t know that I’m very exciting in bed.”
“I don’t believe that for a minute.” He could see that she was a little self-conscious about getting them started, so he said with a lilt in his voice, “If I were in control, I might start by getting rid of some of our clothes.”
“Ah. Good idea.” She looked relieved to have something constructive to start with, and she gave him a flirtatious smile as she leaned down to unzip her boots. She wore some sort of socks beneath them—longer than knee socks, black with quirky little pink bows on the tops. She kept those on (a fact that gave him a little thrill) and then unzipped her skirt and let it fall to the floor.