to know.”
For a long moment he didn’t move, hoping, wishing she’d change her mind, but then the moment passed and he forced a smile. “I like to be prepared,” he said, directing the flashlight ahead of them. And please, God, let me be “prepared” with a condom in my shaving kit.
“Prepared.” She let out a little laugh, again a slightly rusty sound, as if she didn’t do it often, and he smiled back.
Make that a box of condoms, he thought.
They started up the stairs. At the top of the first flight, Mike paused. “Need a rest?”
“After one flight of stairs?” She shook her head. “Tell me I don’t look that fragile to you.”
She was petite but not frail, not with all those wonderful curves and a face so full of life. “You don’t look fragile to me,” he said after a good long look that stirred his body.
“Smart answer.”
They climbed another flight, and when Mike again paused at the top, she lifted a brow. “Do you need to rest?”
He smiled and they started on the next flight, but at a burst of wild laughter ahead of them, he once again slowed to a stop. Sprawled across the stairs, two men were sharing a flask of what had to be pretty potent stuff, given their wide, slack, idiotic grins.
“Looksy there,” one said, slurring his words as he nudged the man next to him. “Now that’s the way to pass the time, matey.” The drunk leered at Mike and gave an exaggerated wink. “Don’t need to tell you to keep warm, huh? You’ve got your heating blankie right there with you.”
Both men laughed uproariously, and as they did, slipped down a few stairs, to fall together in a heap. It made them laugh even harder.
“Feeling no pain, I see.” Mike stepped over them and helped her do the same.
The next flight of stairs began the same way, but then they heard a strange, heated moaning, then rapid panting. Mike didn’t know what he expected to find. A fight, maybe. Someone stabbed or shot, someone in labor…he couldn’t tell from the frightening sounds. He was prepared for anything, though, and tried to keep the woman behind him to protect her.
But she refused to be kept there, even for her own good. She evaded his hands and stayed stubbornly by his side.
The sounds came from a couple, and it wasn’t a fight or severe wounds, as he’d feared, but a wild mating. Clothes were half torn off both of them. They were writhing together against the wall, and given the scream of pleasure that tore from the woman’s lips, they were also deep in the throes of orgasm.
Mike looked at “Lola,” but she didn’t close her eyes or seem embarrassed. She just stared at the couple in front of them, as if mesmerized.
They had a perfect view. The woman was wedged up against the wall; the man could touch and grab at will, which he was doing. Her breasts were bare, and bouncing wildly in the man’s face, which elicited plenty of encouraging groans from both of them. His hands snaked up her skirt, where he held her hips so that he could thrust into her, time and time again.
“Now! Now!” she shrieked. “Oh, Billy, now!”
“Yeah,” said Billy as he pounded into her. “Yeah, baby.”
“Ohh.” Breasts jiggled. Her bottom bounced. Skin slapped against skin. “Oh, Billy, I’m going to come again!”
“Yeah, baby. Me, too.”
Together they let out more shrieks and cries, and then moaning gutturally, they slumped together.
The woman standing next to Mike let out a strangled sound of her own. “Can we get past them, do you think?”
She sounded…breathless, and her palm in his had gotten warm. Almost sweaty.
Mike knew the feeling. He had never considered himself voyeuristic, but witnessing this couple, with Lola beside him, his desire kicked up a degree. He was so hot, so hard and so unbelievably ready he could hardly nod. “Come on,” he muttered, and together the two of them started running.
Up the fifth flight, then the sixth.
At the top, Mike stopped, certain he’d gone too fast this time.
“If you ask me if I need to rest,” she said seriously, “I will smack you.”
She wasn’t even winded. Neither was he, but hell, they’d come a long way up.
“And if you marvel about what good shape I’m in,” she continued, “when you’re obviously in just as good a shape, I’ll—”
“I know,” he said. “Smack me. Don’t worry, I’ll restrain myself and admire your strength later. Come on.”
They made it to his door. No one was around, and the hallway was pitch-black except for the light from his trusty flashlight.
Taking out his key card, he looked down into her face. She was watching him with an unreadable expression. Slowly he reached out and stroked a finger over her cheek, her jaw. “Are you sure?”
“Already sorry you asked me?”
“Are you kidding?”
“Well then, I’m not sorry I’m here.” She lifted a hand, too, and touched his face, ran her finger over his lower lip, over his jaw so that his day-old growth of beard rasped loudly in the silent hall. When she rimmed his ear, he sucked in a harsh breath, every muscle tight and tense.
“Are we going to stand out here all night?” she asked. “Or go in and…”
“And?” he pressed, stepping closer and running his fingers down her neck now, delighting in the shiver that wracked her. He stroked his thumb over the pulse dancing wildly at the base of her throat.
“And finish this,” she whispered, her eyes closing, her head falling back slightly to give him more room. “Let’s finish what we started the moment we looked into each other’s eyes. Okay?”
“Oh yeah. It’s more than okay.” And with his body—and heart—buzzing, he put his key card in the slot.
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