Page 86 of Wild Abandon

I don’t even have a chance to answer. With his hand in mine, he pulls me with him.

We run.

Up the stairs and through the tunnels.

Out the gates and to the curb.

Nate raises his arm to hail a cab.

We kiss.

We kiss with vigor and passion and weeks of pent-up sexual frustration. We kiss until the cab comes. We get in the backseat and kiss some more. We’re all hands and tongues and legs, heavy breathing and friction being caused by two bodies that can’t get close enough to each other, even in the small confines of a taxicab.

We run.

Through the hotel lobby to the elevator bank.

A sound of relief pours from Nate’s throat when the doors close, and we start to rise.

We kiss.

His hands run up the insides of my jacket, pushing it off my shoulders and onto the floor. My back hits the wall, the full weight of his body pushing up against me. He entwines his hands in mine and raises them above my head. I can feel every inch of him—hard, so very hard. The hard planes of his chest against my pebbling skin, his strong thighs locking mine apart, and the rock solid mass between his legs making me hot and warm and ready for him to take me.

The doors open, and we stumble into the hallway. Our mouths still connected, our hands looking for room keys, any key.

“Back pocket,” I mutter.

Soon, my head hits the back of a door, and Nate breaks our kiss to pull the key from my pocket and swipe it into the card lock.

When the click of the lock sounds, I spin my body around and walk inside the room. The king-size bed along the wall, looking out at the twinkling lights of San Francisco, is now more prominent than ever. I’m out of breath and flustered. I turn around to see Nate standing near the door. His chest rises and falls. He’s as out of control as I am. And his eyes. They’re burning, carnal, and their green is so dark that they’re onyx.

If I had any concerns of him backing out, they are quickly erased with the purposeful strides he is taking toward me. One hand around my waist, the other in my hair, Nate lays claim to me, his tongue entering my mouth once again, and I fall right into him.

“Crystal,” he calls out my name.

My name.

No one else’s.

Because there is someone else.

I push my hands against his chest. “We can’t do this.”

With his hands wrapped around my waist and hair, Nate’s head falls to my shoulder. His back is rigid, and his fingers are digging into my skin, like they don’t ever want to let go. When his eyes rise to mine, he is determined. Focused. Clear.

“I haven’t made love to a woman in four years. I have so much to explain. So much to tell you. Right now, I just want to be a man making love to a beautiful woman. I want to touch you. I want to kiss you. I want to be with you, Crystal. I’ll tell you everything. My story, my life. You might want to run. Oh God, I hope you don’t run. But, for now, please, let me love you. Let me be Nate.”

I can’t imagine where his story begins. I’m frightened to know where it ends.

He’s so different from anything I’ve ever wanted. The opposite of what I should want. Yet I need him more than I need air to breathe.

This could all end badly, but I don’t care.

I want him.

I want him forever.

Time stands still.