And then his mouth was on hers. And she didn’t have the ability to think of any sort of objection. Didn’t have the ability to think of anything. Because she’d never been kissed like this before. Like he was starving.
He consumed her.
Angling his head and sliding his tongue against hers. And she grasped on to him, clinging to his shirt, his shoulders, pushing her fingers through his hair. She rolled her hips back and forth against his arousal, already so close she couldn’t believe it. She was slick and hot between her legs, and if he unzipped his jeans and pushed her dress up then, she wouldn’t have said no.
In fact she would’ve said yes.
Emphatically, enthusiastically yes.
“Damn,” he breathed. “Which motel?”
“Up the street,” she said, breathless.
“Better make it quick.”
She nodded and fumbled for his hand, taking hold of it and leading him down the sidewalk, her heart thundering so hard she was nearly sick with it.
She opened her mouth to say she didn’t do things like this. Ever. But then stopped. Because he didn’t need to know that.
They were strangers, and that was why it was exciting.
They were strangers, and that was why this was okay.
Because she needed to be free. She needed to have no ties.
She needed something different. And what better way to spend the inaugural night in Gold Valley than to banish the last regret from her relationship. Oh, not the last regret she would ever feel. She had a feeling regrets would pop up now and again for the next... Well, while.
But the last regret she could remember keenly experiencing because of Jared was that she hadn’t been able to rush across the bar and do exactly this six months ago.
No more. No more at all.
Ever.
So she didn’t tell him that. If he thought she did this every night? Fine. He could think that she was the very Whore of Babylon; it didn’t matter to her.
As long as he wanted to get it on.
And he seemed to.
His hands were rough.
And she couldn’t wait until they were all over her body. She didn’t know who she was. All these desperate, sweaty images flashed through her mind. Raw desires like she’d never had before.
And why not make every demand that she’d ever had? Ask for everything she’d been afraid to ask for? Because it didn’t matter. It didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered was that she had fun. The only thing that mattered was that she had him. Her fantasy. This incredible, amazing fantasy.
She was grateful that the door to her room was exterior, so they didn’t have to pass through the lobby or anything like that. It was dark, and no one was around. And no one saw as she fumbled with the key—the hotel had an actual key to the door—and got it unlocked, letting them both in.
She closed it firmly behind them and locked it again, chucking the keys on the table.
“So this is my...”
But the words were cut off. Because he dragged her back into his arms again, and he was kissing her, like he had done against the side of the bar, but it was more. Deeper. Because they didn’t have to stop.
“Please God, say you have condoms,” she said, between kisses.
“Oh, hell yeah,” he responded.
“Good.”
She didn’t have them. She was an idiot.
But a newly separated idiot, so she didn’t really... She hadn’t thought of it. And she’d been in denial when she’d gone out tonight to see if he would be there, so she hadn’t purchased any protection.
She’d been lying to herself. Telling herself she wasn’t looking for him, and even if she were, it wasn’t to do this.
But he had seemed like the kind of guy who would have some. And praise the Lord, he was.
“More than one,” he said, biting her lower lip.
And she went liquid.
His hands moved down her waist, her hips to her thighs, and then he started to push them up, underneath her dress. Rough on her tender skin as they went around to cup her ass.
She moaned when he pushed his hands beneath the fabric of her panties, as he pushed his fingers between her legs and found her wet with desire for him.
Then she found herself completely stripped of her dress. He yanked it up over her head in one, fluid motion, leaving her breathless and standing there in nothing but underwear. She couldn’t read his face. Because she didn’t know him. But it was intense. Intense and wicked as he stared openly at her.
“You’re so pretty,” he ground out.
The way he said it. Like it hurt, like it cost him, made her melt. “Really?”
“Woman,” he said, “I have made an endless fantasy out of you. But it doesn’t match up to this.” She had a lot of questions. A lot of questions, but she couldn’t ask them, because he moved toward her again and stripped her bra from her body, made quick work of her panties. And she was naked. Except for her sandals. And suddenly, he was down on his knees unbuckling those. Fully clothed.
Then he kissed her ankle, the inside of her knee. Her inner thigh.
And... And...
She wasn’t even going to have to ask him.
Because in fifteen years, Jared had never, not once, ever, gone down on her. And she’d always been afraid to ask. Because if the guy didn’t want to do it... Well, what could you do? And asking felt... Well, a lot like asking for flowers. Which, you could do, but then the flowers didn’t mean much.
She hadn’t felt like she’d deserved to ask for it.
And suddenly, she didn’t need flowers. Not ever. Because his mouth was there. On her. Slick and hot and doing wicked, terrible things that she had only ever been able to fantasize about before. Things that had never...
He was growling. Eating his way into her with a ferocity that defied even her darkest fantasies. And suddenly she was being propelled backward, those wide shoulders pushing her thighs wide. Her back was pressed against the wall, against some bland picture of a landscape, while he pushed her thighs up over his shoulders and pinned her there, his lips and tongue playing havoc with her senses.
And she thought she might die.
And then his fingers worked their way inside of her body. She was so slick and greedy for him that it was easy. That all she could think of was more.
A desperate, deep need for more.
He worked his fingers in and out of her, pushing her up to heights that were dizzying in their splendor. Ratcheting her pleasure up to a degree that seemed impossible.
She was pulling his hair, pushing his cowboy hat off his head, and then, she shattered. Screamed. She was panting, unable to catch her breath, the waves of pleasure pounding through her not like a sweet, fluttering release, nothing quite like the tentative white rabbits of pleasure she’d experienced before.