Just like she’d imagined.
She curled around him, her legs spread by his hips. Her thighs instinctively tightened against his rib cage, and the flip-flops she’d worn to run outside dropped to the patio.
He kissed her, his tongue stealing her control, his body taking over. Hard and strong and male. She could do nothing but kiss him back, letting the feelings he created wash through her. Completely take her over.
Her most sensitive places swelled and ached. Her nipples hardened against her wet shirt, pushing against his chest, needing relief. So much need. Hunger and desire.
His wet hair dripped onto her face, and she didn’t care.
He pushed against her, forcing her to ride the hard ridge of his erection. His jeans were barely holding him back. His mouth was destroying her, and she had never felt so good. So free. He tasted of whiskey and the night. She shot her hands through his wet hair, tangling her fingers.
He planted a hand on the glass door and lifted his head. His chest panted, and his eyes had turned the deep green of an out-of-control gas flame. “This is a mistake. Hold on a minute.”
“Life is full of mistakes.” She rubbed against him, and electricity crackled inside her. “You saved my life,” she whispered, tugging lightly on his hair. “Doesn’t that make me yours? For the night?” The wine she’d drunk warmed her, spurring her on. She was leaving. For one night, just one, she could be with a hero like him. And maybe ease him in the process.
His eyes flared at her words. “You were probably in danger because of me.”
“Don’t let facts get in the way of a good fantasy of one night,” she murmured, her lips still tingling from the force of his. What would he be like? Totally letting loose? A shiver took her. The part of her that was bad, probably born bad, wanted to know. Wanted to go dark with him and find out. Before she had to become somebody else again.
His lids half-lowered, giving him the look of a predator pinning his prey. His body holding her to the glass, he reached out with his free hand and ran his finger along her jawline. “One night?”
She nodded, her skin sensitized by his gentle touch. “Just one. You and me and none of the other stuff. No jobs, no pasts, no bullets flying by. No panic attacks.” Could they escape? Just for a few hours?
“Your hair is normal again. I like your natural color.” His dick jumped between her legs, really trying to escape his jeans.
“I washed out the darker dye. Decided it just wasn’t me.” She shimmied her butt on the glass, rubbing against him. The guy felt huge. She swallowed. Warning tried to pierce her intent, but she shoved it way.
He continued his exploration, running his finger down her neck and over her clavicle. She held her breath, wondering.
Keeping her gaze, holding her eyes captive, he moved his finger down her chest and over one hard nipple. Then he pinched.
She gasped, her nostrils flaring. Sensations streaked through her, hitting every needy nerve.
“I ain’t sweet or gentle, baby,” he murmured, twisting lightly, infusing the pleasure with pain.
Her head knocked back on the glass. God. “I don’t want either,” she said, giving him the truth. Sweet and gentle were lies. This? This hot and dangerous passion was real.
He released her nipple and palmed her breast, rubbing the pain away. Only pleasure remained. “You’ve gone from too scared to open the door for me to offering me the night. I find that interesting.” His hand flattened over her abdomen, his fingers extending across her entire front.
“Strangers scare me,” she said, sucking in her stomach and wanting his touch lower. Much lower. “You’re not a stranger any longer.”
He blinked. That green darkened in those wild eyes. “You don’t know me.”
“Show me, then. Show me who you are,” she whispered, cupping his face. “I don’t care who you’ve been or what you’ve done. Just show me now.” Reaching up, she sank her teeth into his bottom lip.
A part of her, the elements that had survived the last eight years, yelled at her to stop. To run and get away. Now. But she was tired of hiding. Tired of not living and not feeling.
The obvious struggle in him, the one that clenched his biceps into ripped muscle, spurred her on. Could she make him lose that control? For her? It’d be worth the cost. Soon she’d be alone again, and probably even more secluded than now. This night, she wanted. Just a piece of him to take with her. This hero who’d jumped in front of bullets for her. This wounded male who had a darkness in him she could almost taste.
His chest hitched.
She released his bottom lip and licked it. The whiskey tasted good, but he tasted better. Then she reached down and caressed his length, trying to grip him.
He growled. Low and deep.
She shivered at the sound.
He opened the sliding door and walked inside carrying her. One broad hand flattened across her butt to hold her in place as he shut the door and locked it. “How long has it been for you?” Long strides had them down the hallway and into the master bedroom. He had a big bed with a dark comforter and a couple of bed tables.
