he said, his voice whiskey rough as his mouth rolled over her throat, her shoulder. He made quick work of her slip, adding it to the trail with her dress.
“No more than you are me.”
He unclasped her bra, pulling it off, tossing it aside, then filling his palms with her breasts.
Ciara gasped, then gasped again as his thumbs circled her nipples deeply. Oh mercy, his touch was all she needed to explode.
“The instant I saw you, I thought about this.”
She smiled. “Did you imagine this?” she asked, then slicked her tongue over his nipple. He flinched and made a helpless sound she already loved.
“Yeah, I did.”
His knife-creased black slacks hit the floor, and she bent to help them all the way off. And when she stood, she scrubbed her hands over his corded thighs, his trim bare hips. He was built like a wall of muscle, twisted, ropy, delicious to touch and she could tell that he liked watching her touch him. It made her burn for more. She wrapped her hand around his arousal and stroked him harder than he already was.
He couldn’t take it and suddenly he grabbed her against him, and growled, “My turn.” He knelt, peeling her panties down as he went and just the motion made her breathless. He laid wet, grinding kisses to every inch of skin he exposed, rolled her thigh-high stockings down like unrolling a piece of candy and he murmured, “I had a sneaky feeling you were wearing these.”
Just knowing she had, in a roomful of attachés and dignitaries and the former first lady, drove him wild. Now she was wearing only a strand of pearls.
“My, my, secret agent man. You were fantasizing a lot more than I thought,” she said, then howled when his mouth covered her soft center. He licked and played, probed and stroked until she was biting her lip to keep from screaming and bringing hotel security. For an instant, a sliver of time, she wondered about letting a complete stranger do this to her, then she didn’t care. He was all she’d imagined and more, and when he threw her leg over his shoulder and drove deeper, Ciara thought she’d come apart at the seams.
He chuckled darkly as she melted, her leg slipping limply off his shoulder as she sank down, sliding down the wall and straddling his thighs.
“There’s a bed a few feet away,” he said.
“Too far,” she gasped, rocking against his thickness.
He reached for his trousers, fumbled in the pocket, and she barely noticed because he never took his mouth from her. He bent her back over his arm, and then he was inside her, driving upward and clasping her against his wide chest.
“Oh, sweet heaven,” he groaned, cupping her bottom and giving her hips motion because he couldn’t stop it. Bryce pushed his fingers into her hair, loving the sounds she made, that she was as demanding as he, because he craved her. Craved. He’d never hungered for a woman from first sight, never had instant fantasies and instant arousal as he had with just looking at her. The moment he spotted her in that plain black dress, standing off to the side, he’d been preoccupied with her. Wondering what was under that simple dress, enjoying the shift of silk as she walked. Wondering what she looked like with her hair down instead of in that tight, reserved twist. He even liked the way she sipped champagne. And the way she looked at him, slow and possessive. As if she knew what he looked like naked, and she was in a hurry to see it firsthand. As if she knew one touch and they’d be unrestrained and reckless like this.
No one would have suspected. She had an innocence in her face, a cheerleader all-American scrubbed clean look, but a body like a movie star. All woman, ripe and curvy. Not skinny and flat. He loved it. And knew, even if she wasn’t rocking against him, that he held a real woman in his arms. A woman who enjoyed being a woman. And he wanted to do nothing but see pleasure on her beautiful face.
Bryce got down to the business of giving her exactly what she wanted and tasted every inch of her he could reach, stroked her, nipped and soothed and discovered the backs of her thighs were extremely sensitive. Then suddenly, they were over the top, thrashing against each other, rolling across the lush carpet. In the space of a few minutes they tried three positions, laughing as they contorted, then gasping when the friction was almost too much to bear, hurrying, taking only seconds for a thick kiss, and when he had her beneath him, vulnerable, he pushed into her with a measured deliberation that made her cry out and claw for him. She locked her legs around his hips and thrust and pulsed, touching him everywhere, and he held her off the floor, pushing and retreating, watching her pleasure ignite over her exquisite features. He would take that moment with him forever, he thought. Never had he been with a woman who was so confident in herself, in her sexuality, and it made him want her more. She gave as much as she took.
Then it came.
The heavy rush of heat and sensation, a tingling so intense it felt like needles on his spine. Like a throbbing wave about to crash. Suddenly she gripped his jaw and whispered, “Take me with you,” and he pushed, once, twice, and they reached for the stars together.
She cried out and bowed like a ribbon of womanly passion.
Time stopped. Soft moans and panting breaths filling the expensive hotel room. Moonlight spilled through the windows and coated them as his desire beat a throbbing pulse inside her, stretching as her feminine muscles flexed and pawed around him.
Bryce looked down at her, trembling with the power of their loving and she smiled up at him, pulling his weight onto her. She was barely sated, her foot sliding up his calf, his thigh, her hands stroking him, holding him as if she’d known him all her life and not just the past few hours.
With a hard sigh, he rolled to his side, tucking her close, yet before they could catch their breath, pagers went off, a cell phone rang.
He kissed her deeply. “Ignore them.”
“I can’t.” But she kissed him back anyway, then disentangled herself from him.
He rose up, reaching for her. “Where are you going?”
“I have to answer that.” She knew from experience that whoever was on the other end of that line would not give up. “Don’t want hotel security coming up and asking why we’re still making so much noise, right?”
He didn’t give a damn. He wanted her again.
But she was already going for the phone, gathering her clothes as she talked softly. She looked back at him, and he let his gaze roam her naked body, to the deep chestnut brown hair spilling down her back. Man, she was luscious. She smiled, returning the stare with equal intensity. He felt himself grow hard again. Then she slipped into the bathroom and closed the door.
Bryce looked around at the debris of clothes, and started to reach for them, then gave up and fell onto the carpet.
He’d never done anything like that before. Never.
A total stranger. A siren in a little black dress and pearls.
Less than five minutes later she came out of the bathroom, fully dressed and pulling on the strappy little sandals that made him want to taste her ankles. She walked to him and stopped. He hadn’t moved. Good grief, he could still scarcely breathe.
“I have to go,” she said and her eyes were all business.
“Now?”
Her
