“Absolutely,” he lied.
“Okay. That was stupid.”
“We can get two rooms,” he told here, doing a great impersonation of an ethical man who still wanted sex.
Is this what you want, Ash? If it’s really and truly what you want, then Do It.
She looked at David McLean, the once-divorced, defensive driver with eyes currently tending to brown rather than green. Eyes that said he wanted her. And Ashley made up her mind. It was no contest. Not even a minor dilemma.
“I want to have sex with you. I want to do something new and exciting, at least once before I die, most likely in a plane crash. Stranger sex is exciting.” As she said the words, she caught her reflection in the mirror. Her eyes were the same, yet different. She was…glowing, which could have been the warmtoned lighting, but she didn’t think so.
“Stranger sex?” he asked, his mouth quirking up at one side. She liked that about him, the way he didn’t fully smile, but only partly committed to it. Like a man who wants to laugh, but isn’t quite sure it’s the correct thing to do.
“Yeah, you know, stranger sex. The unknown, the forbidden, the lady and the tiger.”
Now she was fully staring at the mirror in front of her. Her, the wild-eyed seductress—slight overstatement—with him, the harried businessman, which was probably true.
Kiss him, Ash. Plant a big smoochie right there.
Throwing caution to the wind, Ashley leaned over and kissed him. Once, on the side of the mouth.
“Salt,” she murmured.
Then she boldly moved her mouth to his.
“Mouth,” he whispered against her lips.
It was nearly a kiss. A press of skin, an exchanging of breaths.
It wasn’t enough.
“Tongue,” she said, and magically, it was a kiss. Mouth, tongues, and oh, yes, that was passion. David McLean was a most excellent kisser. He was earnest, sincere, unafraid. Best of all, he made Ashley feel earnest, sincere and unafraid. She forgot about the mirror, and the hotel room, and only focused on one thing—his mouth. The way his tongue mated perfectly with hers.
He tasted like lime and salt and hot, sweaty, body-smashing sex. Maybe that was only her subconscious talking or the humming moisture between her legs, but she didn’t think so. Ashley moved closer, wild-eyed seductress that she was, and then his hand was at her jaw, holding her while that magic tongue moved in and out, intensifying the hum between her legs.
When he lifted his head, those hazel eyes were dark, sleepy and irresistible. Ashley could only stare.
“Two rooms?” he asked.
She shook her head, not wavering or worrying even once.
They walked to the bank of elevators without touching, because Ashley didn’t want to touch him at the moment. Touching implied combustion, and neither a hotel hallway nor a hotel elevator was the place for combustion.
Not for Ashley, and apparently not for David.
This is it, Ash. We’re sure he’s not a serial killer, right? What if you get strangled or something?
David looked at her, his hungry gaze falling to her mouth.
Ashley told the voices to shut up.
DAVID’S HAND SHOOK as he inserted the keycard in the lock, but honestly, he was too primed to try and be smooth about this. He opened the door, told himself to go slow, then immediately ignored all his normally responsible, conventional wisdom and grabbed Ashley, kicking the door shut behind them.
Her arms curled into his hair, pulling him closer, and they stumbled toward the bed. He wasn’t like this. He wasn’t ever like this, so who was that man fumbling her shirt over her head, lifting her skirts, or dive-bombing for her mouth?
That mouth.
She kissed like she dressed. Not completely stylish, but there was an understated flashiness, and a zing. Definitely a zing.
David heard a moan. Hers. Oh, definitely a zing. Now he was moaning, too.
He tumbled on top of her, completely without finesse, but thankfully, she didn’t seem to mind. Her legs wrapped about him, pelvis surging toward him, and his hands went to his fly. Her breasts pressed against him, soft peaks in white cotton. If his zipper would ever get unstuck, he’d shove the bra aside, because he wanted to see…
The room began to shake. What was that? He could hear the roar of a jet engine. The airport. They were at the airport. That wasn’t his cock. Calm. Remain calm.
Condom. Oh, shit. He needed a condom.
“Wait,” he nearly yelled. He needed to get control. He needed to breathe. In the dim light of the single bedside lamp, she looked up at him, clothes ransacked into parts, exposing more skin than covering. Great skin. Gold and rose mixed together like mother-of-pearl. She wore white cotton panties. With a sun-yellow gypsy skirt, she wore white cotton panties, and did she even know he had a thing for white cotton? He definitely had a thing for white cotton. It was sexy as hell. She was sexy as hell.
His hands were still shaking as he shoved her bra aside. Like a total amateur.
Dude, get a hold of yourself. She’s going to think you haven’t done this in like, months.
She’d be right, but he didn’t want to advertise the fact.
The foil packet tore exactly as it was supposed to, and then…
“Let me,” she whispered in a husky voice that sent every drop of his blood out of his head. Into his head. There was courage in her eyes. The bunny-slipper woman, who was a trembling coward at ten thousand feet, now seemed mightier than any warrior queen with her clothes askew.
Oh, no. Her capable hands got busy on his cock, sending ten thousand volts to his system. Concentrate on something else. The breasts, for instance.
Didn’t work.
David wasn’t going to last, he was going to explode and this was going to be over. No way.
He pushed her into the bank of pillows, roughly, again with the no-finesse thing, and then…
Then…
Yes.
She was tight, perfectly tight, and wet.
He opened his eyes, looked down at those dark, dancing eyes and swallowed.
Had he truly forgotten that sex could be this awesome? Yes, yes, he had.
“Oh,” he managed to say.
Ashley smiled at him, and it was a marvelous smile. A smile for a hot summer’s day, and he was so glad the airplane
