“Mick?”
I’d meant for his name to come out like a concerned question, the equivalent of an “Are you all right?”
But my womanhood clenched around him as I said his name, turning it into a moan.
And that was it.
One moment, Mick was a statue, and the next, his hips had me pinned to the glass as he took me with powerful strokes. Ragged and brutal. But oh-so-good.
A knot of pleasure tightened inside of me, rolling my eyes. It felt like I was precariously balanced on a knife’s edge of sensation. I clung to him, afraid to fall.
But then Mick dug in deeper, pressing the rough sandpaper of his five o’clock shadow into the space between my neck and shoulder. He drove into me, again and again, relentless in his attack.
No more balancing. I fell. Fell and fell until I exploded.
The land mines inside of us seemed to be connected. Mick came just seconds after my climax hit.
“Kayla!”
He let out a guttural yell as his body seized into mine, and he released into the condom.
A thick silence filled the air between us as our chests heaved in the aftermath of that sudden sex explosion.
Then we just stared at each other, his eyes as wide and shocked as I felt.
I got the feeling we were both wondering the same thing.
What was that?
CHAPTER7
Mick
What was that?
I still don’t have a good answer for that question when Kayla emerges from the WC, freshly showered and dressed in a new outfit. She must’ve packed the fresh togs in her hand luggage.
I knew for a rather morally grey fact that her big bag was still in the downstairs lobby baggage claim with strict instructions to only be released to me.
“Wow, that bathroom is nicer than anything I’ve ever seen in a hotel before!” Kayla sat down at the dining table, where I’d set up the room service dinner while she rinsed off. “It had a separate claw-foot tub, too! Maybe you can have a nice soak while watchingCoronation Street.”
I just grunted and lifted the golden bell lids off the two plates of fancy French grub.
“Yer choice. You can have the chicken slathered in sauce or the veal slathered in sauce.”
Kayla’s eyes lit up at the sight of the gourmet dishes. “Ooh, they both look so delicious. But I’ll take the chicken, if that’s okay with you.”
Nothing about this situation was okay with me. But I gritted my jaw and passed her the plate of chicken.
“I can’t get over how much way nicer your prize package is than mine.” Kayla gave the suite another admiring look as she unrolled her silverware from the cloth napkin. “I’m assuming you won that big Tourmaline Sweepstakes promotional event they were running over the holidays, right?”
“Yeah. Right.” I unrolled my own set of cutlery out of its cloth napkin, deciding to keep my answers—and lies—short.
“Well, that’s amazing. Congratulations.” Kayla’s voice sounded a little hesitant and a lot less enthusiastic now. “I mean, what are the odds of winning a huge prize package like that?”
“Not a clue.”
“Okay, well…”
