“Nobody knows who we are here.” A hint of mischief is in his voice. “We could put on our own act.”
“What do you mean?”
“Two can play his game. We can pretend to be different people as well.”
My brow tightens, and I’m intrigued by his suggestion. It sounds like a fun way to pass a night in a creepy,Psychomotel.
“Who would we be?”
“Marion Crane would be too obvious.” He glances up at the popcorn ceiling. “We could be John and Kendall Grant, but instead of looking for your sister, we could be here on our honeymoon.”
My throat tightens, and the heat in my chest is real.
Sliding my ponytail over my shoulder, I decide to embrace the charade. “John is not very good at this,” I tease.
A naughty twinkle is in his blue eyes. “Why not?”
“It’s our honeymoon, and you brought me to a cheap place like this? With all your money?”
“Maybe I have a fantasy…”
Rising onto my knees, I crawl over to where he’s sitting with his back to the loveseat. “What kind of fantasy?”
He shifts closer, placing large hands on the sides of my legs, parting them so I can straddle his lap. My heart beatsfaster when his hands go beneath the back of the shirt I’m wearing.
“The kind where I saw you broken down on the side of the road and brought you here.” His voice is a husky whisper. “I couldn’t keep my hands off you any longer, so I had to have you. Just this once…”
My breath hitches, and I allow him to pull me closer. I’m not wearing a bra under his thin, white tee, and my nipples are sharp points piercing the fabric.
“This sounds like a very specific fantasy.” I whisper, feeling the erection growing in his jeans through the thin cotton boxers I’m wearing. “Why here?”
He groans deeply. “I couldn’t drive any farther without having you.”
My mouth waters. I place my hands on his shoulders, rocking my core over the stiff muscle beneath me. He lets out another hiss, placing his forehead against my chest before moving his mouth over my breasts, pulling a tight nipple through the thin fabric.
A groan rises in my throat, and I shove my fingers into his thick hair. It’s so soft. I curl them, pulling as I dry-hump his lap. He traces his lips up my neck until our faces are a breath apart.
“Will you let me kiss you now?” he asks, and I lean forward to seal my lips to his.
His hands move up to cup my cheeks. Tilting my face, he deepens the kiss, licking his tongue against mine and pulling my lips with his teeth.
A soft whimper escapes on a breath, and he reaches down to lift me off the floor in a sweep, carrying me to the bed.
I don’t ask questions; I don’t break the spell. I’m on myknees on the side of the bed, and he steps back to pull his shirt over his head the way he did at the photo shoot.
His dark hair is a mess on his head, and I exhale a swoon, reaching down to do the same, lifting the shirt over my head.
My hair is still back in a tight ponytail, and when I reach up to undo it, he catches my hand.
“Leave it.” It’s a rough order, and I obey.
His blue eyes are dark and hungry, and it sends fire roaring through my veins, through my core, all the way to my toes.
“What do we do now?” I whisper.
“Touch me.” He steps closer, and I reach out to do what I’ve wanted to do for so long.
I trace my fingers over the lines of his chest, down to the lines in his stomach, watching as his muscles tense in the wake of my caress.
