What Matters More

by Liora Blake

  “The way I see it, there are no rules. We just tell each other what we need and what we want, and then part ways as two strangers who gave each other a break from real life.” She waited a beat, dropping a kiss to each side of his mouth. “As for consent, you have mine. All you have to do is give me yours.”

  Another head rush hit him, but this time all his blood was on a southward path. He gave up a low groan before taking a deep breath.

  “Yes. Absolutely,” he answered her. “I want this. I fucking need it.”

  JT latched his hands onto her hips, his large grip making it so he captured a good bit of her ass, too. He tightened his fingers while pushing his hips forward, desperate for the relief that a little pressure would provide against his now-achingly-hard dick. But the relief that came with pressing his hard-on to the softness of her belly was short-lived. The tips of Anya’s nails scratched across the sensitive skin at the back of his neck, and JT let out an almost tortured sound, because he wanted more. He was desperate for that sting, for the moment when she gave it to him again, even harder.

  “Do you know what I think you need, JT?” Anya asked. “What I see when I look at you?”

  He grunted as a reply, unable to form words because there were too many sensations to focus on. The bite of her nails, the scent of her hair, her soft body in his hands, and the way his cock strained behind the fly of his jeans.

  “I see a man who, for one night, needs to lead with his body, instead of his brain.” She ran her hands up into his short hair. “Tonight, you can just enjoy this, without worrying about any rules. We can both take what we need. You can just forget the rest.”

  The tension in his body slowly began to unwind. He wasn’t sure how this woman had decoded his tendency to spend way too much time in his head, and done it so quickly. Maybe he was just unbelievably easy to read, but even that didn’t quite explain how a stranger could know that when it came to sex, he silently ached for permission to let go of everything else and simply take. Nothing beat a night when he was able to shut his brain off and just . . . fuck.

  With his ex, those nights had been rare. Even well into their marriage, he couldn’t shake the sense that Nicole was following a script about how things should be, including when they were in bed together. JT had never managed to figure out a way to ask her to drop the mask, to give him a night with her when there was no script, no expectations, and no facades between them. Nicole was gorgeous, shrewd, and confident, but those same traits made it hard for her to truly let go with him—or with anyone, really. Between that and JT’s stoic tendencies, the two of them struggled to abandon their defenses with each other, despite spending eight years together.

  So he’d spent a long time craving what Anya was now offering him. Nothing but two people in a room, naked in ways that had nothing to do with clothing. Relief rushed through him and all he could think to do was kiss the woman who, after only a few hours together, somehow knew exactly what he needed.

  JT yanked her body roughly to his, and their lips crushed together. Her breasts pressed against his chest and that sensation drove his hands up over her ribs, stopping only when her tits filled his palms. He cupped her flesh gently, still kissing her, until they were both short of breath. JT broke away, leaning back to take in the way Anya’s skin was flushed, her eyes were hooded, and her lips were bright pink.

  She was coming undone, and the sight made JT feel ten feet tall and bulletproof. He was sure now—of himself, of what they were doing, of how good this was going to be.

  This room was a safe haven from the rest of his problems, and here, he could be the man he wanted to be—the same one he’d lost sight of over the past year. A man who had his shit together, who knew where life would take him, and what to do when he got there. That man would do whatever it took to make the woman he was with feel safe, seen, and happy. He’d also damn sure do his best to see to it that she left his bed well fucked. And while this bed might not be his bed, that didn’t matter.

  JT ran his thumbs over the tips of her breasts, and she let out a soft, sweet moan.

  “Is it my turn now? Do I get to tell you what I see? What I think you need?” Anya gave up a jerky nod as JT gave her nipples a gentle pinch. “Lie back for me and I’ll tell you.”

  Her body wilted back to the bed, keeping her legs softly bent at the knee, just enough to cause the hem of her dress to fall toward her waist. JT caught a glimpse of peach-colored lace, but Anya tipped her knees together, a sweetly demure move that drew his eyes back up to her face. Anya took a deep breath, holding it for a beat as her breasts strained up along the neckline of her dress.

  “God, you’re gorgeous,” JT breathed, resisting the urge to yank the flimsy fabric of her dress down, in hopes her bare breasts would spill out when he did. Instead, he ran one hand down the centerline of her body, spreading his fingers wide to cover as much of her as he could.

  “Maybe that’s what you need, huh? Someone to remind you how gorgeous you are. Show you. Make you feel it when he’s fucking you.” Anya’s eyes closed and her plush thighs pressed together, like she was ready to burst with wanting. JT ran his tongue across the edge of his teeth and surveyed the sight before him. “You know what else I see when I look at you?”

  Anya let out a careful exhale. “Tell me.”

  JT let a small smile tease across his mouth. “These thighs.”

  Anya’s body stiffened. She opened one eye and managed to shoot him a skeptical look while also scrunching up her face. JT let out a chuckle that was husky and deep.

  “In a good way. Your legs are amazing from one end to the other, but it’s these thighs that are fucking killing me. I think it’s driving you crazy to keep them pressed together like that, when all you really want to do is slide those panties off and spread your legs so I can see what’s at the top of these thighs.” He paused, her body growing restless with each beat that passed, proving his suspicions right. “Do it, then. Slide them off and show me. I want to see your pretty pussy.”

  Her hands quickly slipped under her dress. When the peach-colored lace slid down her legs and landed on the floor next to him, JT’s reaction was more animal than human. His nostrils flared as he let one hand draw over the front of his jeans, where his stiff cock was straining the fabric. Anya’s legs opened so slowly that JT had to grit his teeth as she revealed herself to him, inch by inch.

  When she was finally open for him, all he could do was stare. She was bare, pink, smooth . . . and, God fucking help him, so wet he couldn’t look away from the slick path of her desire. Anya drew a hand down her body, easing her fingers between her legs to rub slow circles over her clit, and when she did, JT yanked his zipper down and shoved his hand into his boxers to grip his length. Relief and pain came in equal measure. He gave himself a few rough tugs, hoping to ease the way his erection throbbed painfully, but was forced to still his hand when a bead of precum slid down to meet his fingers. Anya let out a groan, her attention fixed on his hand.

  JT returned the sound. “You like that? Watching me stroke my cock? Good. Because this is all for you.” He gave himself a slow, tight pull. “You made me rock-hard and then showed me the sweetness between those thighs, which made it worse. Then you started to play with that wet pussy and now I’m so hard it hurts.”

  Anya’s back arched on a moan and JT’s gaze shot to her hand. She had two fingers buried deep, sliding them in and out with leisurely thrusts. The middle finger of her other hand was gently pressed to her clit. JT took note of the way she worked her fingertip there, determined to remember what she liked when his hand eventually replaced hers.

  She continued to work herself slowly, putting on a show that JT found both fascinating and maddening. Finally, her legs went taut and her hand stilled. She gestured toward the other side of the room.

  “No more waiting, okay? There’s a box of condoms on the counter in the bathroom.”

  JT released a relieved exhale and stalked toward the bathroom. “That dress needs to come off.
I want you naked when I come back out.”

  He ripped the box open and tore off a foil packet with shaking hands. After rolling the condom on, he caught a glimpse of himself in the bathroom mirror and was thrown off by what he saw there.

  Jesus.

  He looked crazed. Completely, insanely, wildly crazed.

  JT took a deep breath. If he wasn’t careful, he was going to fuck this poor woman through the mattress and blow his load in the first thirty seconds.

  He couldn’t let that happen. This was too good to screw up by making a fool of himself that way. For the first time in a long time, it felt like the stars had aligned entirely in his favor by dropping a sexy, smart, self-possessed, eager seductress right into his lap. And since that would probably never happen again, JT would be damned if he was going to come up short tonight. All he needed to do was remember the fundamentals.

  Focus on her, dipshit. First, make it good for Anya, then you can let go. And if you do it right the first time, you might get to do it more than once.

  JT gave his reflection a stern look for good measure, then all but stormed back into the other room, only to lurch to a stop when he spotted Anya standing at the foot of the bed, gloriously naked just the way he’d asked for her to be. He allowed himself a moment to just look at her, drinking in every one of her plentiful curves, the honey-kissed hue of her skin, and the way her blond hair somehow shimmered despite the shitty lighting in the room.

  Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.

  JT wasn’t sure who he was thanking, but the woman in front of him inspired a thank-you to someone, somewhere. He cleared the rest of the room, tugging his shirt off as he walked. Anya unapologetically looked her fill at the ink on his arms and across his chest, her gaze lingering on the red remembrance poppies he’d added after a Marine helicopter from his old base had crashed, killing everyone on board. Each one of his tattoos reflected something important about his adult life, and even if Anya didn’t know the stories behind them, the way she so obviously liked what she saw memorialized on his skin made him feel good. Damn good.

  Once she was through taking in all of his ink, her hands dropped to the waist of his jeans, working frantically to get his pants and boxers pushed down. JT kicked all of his discarded clothing off to the side and then sat down on the edge of the bed. Anya’s gaze tipped down and her eyes went a little wide.

  JT fought back the urge to pound his chest and grunt a bunch of gibberish like some Quest for Fire extra. It was shallow and stupid for her appreciative regard to set him off this way—but fuck it all, it did.

  “Enjoying the close-up view?” he asked, giving himself an unhurried stroke for her benefit. Then he slid his hand up the inside of one of her thighs, running his fingertips over her wet folds when he met her core.

  Anya’s answer was a moan. JT grinned lazily. “You can ride it, beautiful. Whenever you’re ready, just climb on.”

  Anya let him play for a few moments, her head falling back as his fingers drifted across her clit teasingly. Finally, she tipped her head back up. The wicked gleam in her eyes had JT questioning whether he was going to be able to keep up with whatever it was she had in mind.

  Focus on her. Nothing else.

  Focus. On. Her.

  It was both a silent prayer and an internal reprimand, one he repeated to himself a few more times, until she straddled his lap and wrapped her hand around his cock. After that, all he could do was groan.

  When she took him inside, the first inch was enough to force his eyes closed, even when all he wanted to do was watch as his length slipped into her heat. The next inch had him seeing stars. Every inch after that sent him nearer to a place he couldn’t name as either heaven or hell. When she’d mercifully taken all of him, JT latched his hands onto her hips, intent on taking back some control by driving her body up and down over his, hard and fast—and ideally, before he passed out.

  But Anya drew her knees in and locked them tight around his body, not moving an inch. JT wasn’t sure how long he could wait it out, but he did what he could, gritting his teeth and holding his breath with all the self-control he could muster.

  Then Anya let out a giggle. JT’s eyes flew open at the sound. Laughing was not what he wanted to hear. A moan, a groan, a sigh, a whisper—all those he would love. But laughing? Not on the list.

  She laughed again, seeing his face. Then she threaded her hands through his hair, tipping her forehead to meet his.

  “This is so much better than I imagined,” she whispered.

  Relief shot through him and JT grunted, giving her lower lip a gentle tug with his teeth.

  “Same here,” he murmured. Then he pitched her body up a few inches, drawing her back down his shaft slowly. “Now show me what you can do.”

  And she did. She really, really did.

  Anya worked her body atop his in a slow, even tempo until JT slid a hand between them and found her clit. Giving up a low moan, she dropped her hips and began to rock back and forth, the weight of her body trapping his hand where she wanted it.

  “Goddamn, you feel so good,” he groaned, feeling her grow tighter around him. “You’re getting close, aren’t you?”

  Anya nodded, panting out that she was so close. JT wrapped an arm around her waist to bring her closer.

  “Then do it. Come all over me, I want to feel you.”

  She sank into a steady rhythm, relentlessly chasing what was building inside her with every push and pull of her body. JT urged her on, until her movements became jerky, finally pitching her hips forward as she shuddered into a long climax, letting out a sound that JT couldn’t mistake for anything other than an intense wave of pleasure. He drank up the sound, so thirsty for more that he was powerless to let her ride her orgasm out slowly. Instead, he turned their intertwined bodies onto the bed, giving her no opportunity to recover as he put her on her back and let the man he had seen reflected in the bathroom mirror take over.

  Root to tip, he thrust deep, reaching up to cup her bare breasts, the soft flesh filling up his hands. Anya wrapped her legs tight around him and arched her back, making it so he could grip her gorgeous tits even harder. JT felt that sweet edge rising up inside him, over his spine and across his shoulders. He chased that awareness by turning all of his senses on high. Every part of his body was throbbing and the thoughts in his head were a battle between wanting this to go on forever and the need to give in to the climax that was trying to claw him open.

  Then Anya tipped her hips up so that with every wild rut he gave her, JT rubbed right across the spot that would make her come again. Only a few of those strokes and she was there, digging her nails into the tender skin on his neck. After that, he was done for. Everything went bright white behind his eyelids, and JT hazily recognized that he’d let out a loud, almost brutal sound, one that was bound to scare the hell out of every other guest in the hotel.

  But he didn’t care. Not one fucking bit. All that mattered was the woman underneath him, who had somehow wrapped her body tighter around his, and the sheen of well-earned sweat that was now between them.

  JT collapsed on the bed next to Anya and steadied his breath to help his heart rate come down. Once he was sure he could sit up without blacking out, he kissed her shoulder and then got up to take care of the condom. When he came back out, Anya was tucked under the bedcovers with her hair spread out on the pillow, a satisfied little smile on her face.

  He relished the sight, but only for a moment. JT cast a look at all of his scattered clothing on the floor and then back at Anya. In that instant, he was right back to where they had started: off-kilter and unsure.

  How was a night like this supposed to end? Was he just supposed to get dressed, make sure everything was zipped and buttoned, then tell her thanks as he walked out the door? Maybe so. Did he want to do that? Not even a little bit.

  What he wanted to do was leave his clothes right where they were, climb into that bed, and get started on round two. Then he wanted to curl up next to her and see if
he could sleep the way he used to—deeply and contentedly—while tucked in beside the softness of her body, wrapped up in the kind of solace he’d missed so much it sometimes made his body ache.

  He ran a hand through his hair, darting his eyes to the floor.

  “Do you want me to stay?”

  Anya went still, and JT hated the way everything inside him begged for her to say yes. The thought of going home to sleep alone felt like a punishment he couldn’t handle—not tonight, not after this.

  She tilted her head, considering him with an easy expression.

  “I do,” she said thoughtfully. “If you don’t want to, that’s fine. But I’d like it if you stayed.” Anya gave him a grin. “We should totally do that again.”

  That was all the encouragement he needed. JT was across the room in a flash, practically leaping onto the bed.

  No matter how fucked up his life was on the other side of this hotel room’s door, none of that mattered right now. In this room—with Anya—he was just a man. A man who felt complete again.

  5

  Anya

  Anya shut the rear hatch on her ever-reliable Subaru wagon as gently as possible. All of her worldly belongings were inside, loaded precariously. A pothole in the road would be enough to implode her delicate organizational system, which meant she’d need to hold her breath the entire way to Oro Valley. After all, when everything you own fits inside a hatchback, it begs to be treated as precious cargo.

  The gate latched with a quiet click, and nothing inside so much as wiggled. Anya breathed a sigh of relief and loaded herself into the driver’s seat, glancing at the fuel gauge. Hopefully, what was left in the tank would be enough to get her to the high-end suburban enclave outside Tucson where her house-sitting gig was.

  She was short on time, short on fuel, and short on sleep. JT was to blame—or perhaps to thank—for her lack of sleep. He was far too good at wearing a woman out, and even if she’d slept blissfully between rounds, that didn’t amount to much. The combination left Anya feeling a little bit like a wobbly noodle when she’d eventually dragged herself out of bed. A very satisfied noodle, but wobbly nonetheless.