by hedonistic—champagne-riddled—impulse, sanity didn’t stand a chance.
She danced down the stairs to the next level, to where she knew he was sleeping. She counted the doors—one, two, three—and opened the next.
But his bedroom was empty. The dim light of an almost moonless night invaded through open curtains, revealing no body-sized lump in the bed. In fact it was so smooth it looked like a perfectly iced cake.
Disappointment dashed her spirits—because she wasn’t hungry for cake. She was starving for something way more meaty than that. She’d gone fun-free for too long. So, inspired by the fabulosity of the location, she’d decided to hell with it and to take what he’d been offering for weeks. Until now she’d parried his flirtatious invites, unsure of his integrity. But here, in this most seductive location, what did anything matter but the moment? And this moment she wanted to enjoy some male, physical, attention. In a place as beautiful as this, surely fantasy could come true?
Yes. Having finally got the courage, she wasn’t going to let fate confound her. Reckless joie de vivre bubbled again and she slipped back out to the hall. Maybe she’d counted wrong, or had the wrong side of the corridor? She pivoted one eighty and counted again. One, two three. Carefully she turned the handle of the fourth door.
Occupied.
Her over-wired senses instantly assimilated the signs—warmth, gentle, regular breathing, a light spiced scent. She quietly closed the door behind her. A couple of steps in she nearly stumbled over the shoe. The size said it all—a man’s boot. This was the one, then.
The ten-inch gap in the curtains let in what light that waning moon threw. A gap that wide had to be deliberate—he must like to see the sun, moon and stars too. Smiling, she blinked to adjust her vision. Then, yes, in the wonderfully huge bed, she could just make out his laid-back shape, right in the centre. His dark hair contrasted against the white pillow, his face turned away from her. Then cloud crossed the moon, dulling the room to nothing but shades of black.
But she crept forward, heated inside and out.
‘Hey,’ she whispered. ‘Are you asleep?’
Dumb question when she could hear the regularity of that breathing for herself.
‘Hey,’ she murmured again as she stretched across the bed, her hand out to touch...skin.
Oh, he was hot.
She snatched her fingers back, suddenly shy. Her heart bashed her ribs as adrenalin flooded, forcing a too-fast beat. She took a second to breathe, because never before had she slipped into the driver’s seat like this. Her throat blocked, she could think of nothing else to say. But sensation—temptation—drove her closer. Despite the goosebumps popping over every inch of her skin, she burned.
She knelt on the bed, boldness returning the closer she got to his heat. Slowly, she slid her hand towards the point where the bed was depressed by the weight of one big, warm male. Her seeking fingers hit the boundary from cool cotton to hot body, but she pushed through her last nervousness, sliding her fingers up and over his hair-roughened skin.
Every cell inside her squeezed. The hit of pure pleasure from that smallest of touches surprised her. She’d not expected such excitement from so little. But perhaps this was about risk as well and she, who’d always been risk averse, was beyond excited already.
In daylight she found him perfectly resistible—they’d never even kissed. It had mainly been talk and suggestion—a way to help pass the boring bits at work. And there’d been more dull moments than anything recently—all paperwork, no perks. She’d hoped for job satisfaction this weekend, knew this was part of why she’d been offered the trip. But this place had her thoughts turning to the personal. Yes, now, up this close to his heat and that scent she’d never before noticed, she couldn’t wait to discover him in this dark night.
His skin was warm, the breadth and obvious strength of his muscles another surprise. Who knew that beneath his customary too-trendy suits was a body of awesome size? Clutching one hand to her chest, she gently swept the other over his stomach, sliding the sheet down as she searched him out. He was completely naked and as a result only one word remained in her brain—amazing.
She was lost in her unrestrained exploration, so it was a few seconds before she sensed the change in him. Then she felt the ripple as, beneath skin, his muscles responded to her touch.
Stimulated.
She was emboldened by those signs, her reach went further, firmer. And her own excitement built as she realised the extent of his. It wasn’t just with her hand that she touched him now. Bending, she pressed her mouth to his thigh. His hands lifted, his fingers thrusting through her hair, gently massaging. So her instinct had been right.
He was awake.
She knelt, lifting a knee across so she straddled him.
‘Oh, yeah.’ Sleep-rusted, hoarse, hungry, his voice sounded strange.
‘Yeah,’ she agreed with a breathy laugh, heart racing at her daring and his rising to the occasion so magnificently. ‘You’re okay with this?’
‘Oh, yeah,’ he repeated with a groan.
She felt his big release of air. Felt his hands firmly curve around her thighs. His fingers stroked over her skin, but with enough strength to keep her there.
He wanted her there.
She closed her eyes, letting her fingers feel him—that hot, stretched skin. Her sensuality exploded, extremely intense. The delight in discovering her recklessness would have such reward made her all the more liberated. In the past she’d been shy sexually—cautious, self-conscious, half afraid of doing something wrong or not being good enough. She’d never have dared this. But none of those feelings came into play now. Under the influence of lush surroundings, rich food and drink, this inky midnight and his rapid response, she simply didn’t care. She felt too heavenly. Scent filled the warm darkness—a mix of the citrus of her shampoo and the spice of his soap. Not his usual aftershave. She guessed it was the guest soap. She made a mental note to find out the brand because it tantalised—encouraging her to taste.
Bending forward again, she brushed her hair over his skin as she kissed across his chest, finding one of his nipples to lick. She ran her hand down his abs. His muscles were rock solid. Hell, all of him was rock solid.
He pushed her shoulders so she sat up. His hands slid over her slip, over her belly to shape her breasts. He suddenly moved, lifting to pull the fabric from her. She raised her arms so he could take it over her head and toss it, she didn’t care where. His hands slipped back to her butt, clutching her close—his touch possessive. She liked it. She also liked the thick part of him that she had one hand around. He stayed strained upwards, so his mouth teased her breasts as his fingers had for those too few delicious seconds before. She trembled—amazed that she could be so close so quick.
‘If I’d known it was going to be like this,’ she muttered hotly, ‘I wouldn’t have held back so long.’
She could have been having sex this good for the last two months—how had she been so blind to this chemistry?
He buried his face harder into her curves. Clutching her closer, kissing down her neck all the more passionately.
All this time her other hand had been curled into a tight fist, and tucked
