Sunny

My hand shook as I took my key from my purse. Zeke’s dominating presence was at my back, he’d been there since we left the bar, always one step behind me. He hadn’t said anything more, not since he’d bitten out that low, gravely, “Yes,” to my . . . proposition. Not even when I realized I left the keys to my house at the shop and we had to take a detour before heading to my place. He just nodded his head and went where I directed him.

I still couldn’t believe I was doing this—or how much I wanted to do this. God, I could feel his gaze on me, intense, unwavering. Those eyes hadn’t left me. Not all evening. I’d felt them slide over me as soon as I walked in the bar. Yes, I got looks and comments often. I’d known since I was thirteen years old that men found me attractive. But there was something different about the way Zeke watched me, like he was trying to see more—like he was trying to see beyond the face and the wild blond hair. Maybe I was just imagining things, seeing what I wanted to. I didn’t know. All I knew was that potent gaze had drawn me in, like I was compelled. I’d been powerless against it. Yes, he made me nervous, the guy was kind of scary. But not in a way I felt threatened. I didn’t know how to explain how I felt. The man fascinated me. The way he seemed to quietly observe, the untamed quality he had, the raw, rough edge.

Zeke made my belly squirm in a really freaking good way.

I’d watched him watch people, assessing, the way he stared at anyone that got near, warning them off without a word. That should have kept me away as well, but for the first time in a long time, I’d been driven to take a risk, because something in me said this man would be worth it—even if it was only for one night. I couldn’t imagine him letting many people close, it was just the vibe he gave off. The fact he’d said, “Yes,” when I’d asked him to come home with me, made me feel that for tonight at least, I was special.

I was wanted.

Something I hadn’t felt in a very long time.

He moved closer behind me, leaning in, and I froze. My hair shifted, just a fraction at my shoulder, followed by the sound of him drawing in a deep breath. Oh God. The silent predator at my back was scenting me. His prey. It was one of the sexiest things I’d ever experienced in my life. He hadn’t even touched me yet and I was more turned on than I’d ever been in my whole entire life.

“The door,” he said, voice intensely deep, gritty as all get-out.

And God, that Texas drawl made my belly quiver. “Right,” I whispered.

Somehow, I managed to get the key in the lock and push the door open, leading him inside my townhouse. It wasn’t huge, one of the smaller ones in this area, and I liked it that way. I’d lived in empty, lonely, sprawling mansions my whole life. I’d hated it, and as soon as I was able to, I moved out and got this place.

We moved into the living room off the entranceway, and I turned to watch him taking in my home. I’d only just met him, but I knew that’s what he’d been doing. I didn’t think Zeke missed a thing. I could see his mind working behind those extremely dark eyes, and I wondered what he was thinking. What he thought of the little oasis I’d created for myself. My safe haven. I refrained from asking, barely. Zeke was tall, lean, and even without touching him I knew he’d be hard, muscular. His dirty blond hair was in need of a trim and a little messy. It suited him . . . and so did the beard. It was a little longer at the chin, shorter across his cheeks, and I couldn’t help wondering how it would feel against my skin.

Belly quiver number two was a go.

Yes, the man in front of me was perfection. Rough, gritty perfection.

I dropped my purse on my little antique French Louis XV-style side table—I’d inherited it from my mother, and it was my favorite piece in the house—and tried to keep my nerves in check. “Would you like a drink?”

His eyes were back on me now and he shook his head.

The way he was looking at me set off belly quiver number three. “Perhaps something to eat?”

He shook his head again, and good lord I could feel it, the potent, dizzying energy radiating off him.

My belly whooshed. The quivers a thing of the past. My heart was beating so fast and hard, I could feel my pulse thudding at the side of my throat.

“Why don’t you take a seat. I’ll be . . . I’ll be right back.” I rushed from the room and hit the bathroom, shutting the door behind me. I stared at myself in the mirror. “You can do this, Sunny. You want this,” I said to my reflection. Take something for yourself. You deserve it. You deserve a night with the sexy predator standing in your living room. You deserve to be ravaged. I stifled a nervous giggle.

My smile slipped in the mirror. How long had it been since I’d been touched? Since I’d had a man’s hands on me? How long had it been since I’d had another human being in my home? Too long. I didn’t do relationships, of any kind, not anymore. Besides the people at the Ashwood Retirement Home, where I volunteered, I stuck to myself. Other women tended to resent me, judged me for the way I looked. Men judged me, too, and their judgment was usually wrong. They saw me as the stereotypical ditsy blond. A pretty, empty shell. My last romantic relationship had been a disaster. I hadn’t had much luck with relationships in any aspect of my life, actually. People kind of just . . . left. They left me.

I’d grown used to my solitude.

No, I didn’t know Zeke, but I didn’t need to. He intrigued me, fascinated me. He would leave, but that was okay. I knew how this worked and I was fine with it.

But God, I needed it.

I needed him.

Tonight, I needed what I knew only he could give me.

No more hiding in the bathroom. I pulled the door open and walked back out. Zeke hadn’t moved. He was still standing exactly where I left him. He watched me as I walked toward him, and I got the feeling he thought I might have changed my mind, that he expected me to tell him to leave. I shook my head, answering the unspoken question I saw in his expression. He made a low sound, a cross between a growl and a grunt. Liquid heat curled low. Jesus, he was all man. Everything about him pure, raw male. Like a warrior, or a knight from some story book.

Drawing on my courage, I kept walking, until I was standing right in front of him. His hands were at his sides, still not touching me. I lifted mine slowly, exactly like you would if you approached a wild animal, and pressed them against his chest. Oh yes, hard. Like I knew it would be, and hot. His skin burned through his shirt. I felt a tremor move through his powerful frame and looked up. His nostrils flared, heat igniting behind his dark mahogany irises.

“You’re very tall,” I said.

He didn’t answer, it wasn’t a question.

“I’d like to kiss you, but I can’t reach your mouth,” I said, my face heating.

He turned away from me, wide chest expanding sharply, and for a moment I thought he might leave, but he didn’t, he walked to the couch, sat down on it, leaned back, and waited. He was going to let me take the lead. The achy pulse between my thighs intensified and I squeezed my legs together. I may be out of practice, but there was no reason to hesitate. That was the beauty of a one-night stand, right? Not that I’d ever had one before, but that’s what I was telling myself. I approached him like the wild creature he was. Suddenly not sure if he’d pounce or bolt. He did neither. He watched me, scorching me with all that heat burning from him. I leaned forward, resting my hands on his shoulders then climbed into his lap, straddling his hips. My heart was pounding so hard, I struggled to breathe. He felt amazing. All hard, brutal strength.

His arms moved to give me room when I climbed on and were now along the back of the couch, still not touching me. I curled my fingers around the side of his neck, my breath coming in shallow pants as I leaned in, desperate to taste him, the wildness of him . . .

Then my lips were against his. The muscles in his chest tightened against mine as I move my mouth over his. His lips were as firm as the rest of him. For a moment, he wasn’t kissing me back, and I thought he wasn’t going to . . . then he made another of those rough sounds and leaned in, pushing back. I opened my mouth on a moan. At the touch of his tongue against mine, my body went up in a ball of molten flames. I pressed closer, curling my arms around his neck, my breasts pressing tighter, rubbing against him.

His hands still weren’t on me and I needed them. Now. If it wasn’t for the very obvious bulge I could feel through his jeans and the hungry way he was kissing me back, I might start to worry that he didn’t want me. But there was and he was. I tore my mouth away from his, sliding my hand up the side of his throat, to the back if his head, fisting his hair lightly. “Zeke . . . please, will you touch me?”

One of his hands instantly lifted from the back of the couch and thrust into my hair at my nape, the other went to the side of my ass, like he’d been waiting for my permission all this time. I expected him to pull me back in for another kiss, but he didn’t. His eyes slid over my face, my hair, down to my neck then back up. The way he looked at me . . . I felt beautiful in a way I never had in my life. I smiled, I couldn’t help it. He stared at my mouth as I did then made a low, long sound, and with all that sexy roughness he had going on, it made me think of a purring jungle cat. His fingers tightened in my hair and he pulled me closer, again not going for my mouth. Instead he buried his face against my shoulder then dragged his nose up the side of my neck, mouth stopping at my ear. “You smell like vanilla,” he said, voice gruff.

My nipples tightened even more, started tingling almost painfully, and goose bumps broke out across my skin. This man . . . good lord. He was raw, intense, wild . . . beautiful. And I got the feeling what was about to happen between us was going to be the same. Maybe it was silly, but I knew whatever happened tonight would be life altering for me. That should scare me, but right then, it didn’t. Because this man, this stranger, made me feel safe, precious, wanted like I never had before—in a way I never had before.

He needed me as much as I needed him tonight. I didn’t know how I knew that, I just did.

I waited to see what he’d do next, then I felt those rough hands move to my hips, up until his thumbs slid under my shirt, brushed against my bare skin. A needy moan slipped out, just from that feel of his skin against mine. Then he was fisting my shirt and dragging it up, pulling it off, flinging it aside. His hands dropped back to my waist, and his hungry stare followed them. I sucked in a sharp breath, his palms and fingertips like fine sandpaper, and so hot, as they moved higher, up to my ribs until his thumbs grazed the undersides of my breasts.

My breathing was erratic as his eyes lifted to mine, as he cupped one in his large hand, and applied pressure. His thumb came back into play, sliding, grazing my aching nipple. I was panting as I reached back and unclasped my bra, and his own breathing quickened as well as I dragged it down my arms and bared myself to him. The way he looked at me, it stole my breath.

His fingers dug into my ribs. “Room?”

I blinked down at him, trying to unscramble my brain.

“Room, Sunshine. Now.”

Sunshine.

There went my belly again. Flipping and whooshing and . . .

He tightened his hands again and lifted me off his lap, obviously getting impatient.

I snapped out of my daze—well kind of—took his hand and led him upstairs to my room. I wanted him in my bed, too. I wanted to be able to press my nose to my sheets tomorrow night and smell him there when this was all over. Was that weird? Probably. I didn’t care.

We were at my bedroom door and I turned, walking backward toward the bed. He released my hand and reached back, dragging his shirt off . . .

Holy . . . wow.

I sucked in a sharp breath. There was barely an ounce of fat on him, he was strength and sinew and raw muscle. His abdominal muscles were defined, the V at his hips arrowing down, disappearing beneath his low-slung jeans. His skin was marked with scars, one on his stomach that looked fairly recent.

Zeke was dangerous.

Maybe that should concern me. It didn’t. It turned me on more. Nothing mattered right then but having him inside me.

I unzipped my boots and kicked them aside, then my jeans and pushed them down. He watched me the whole time. Until I stood in only my panties and jewelry. He didn’t wait for me to ask this time, he prowled toward me, lifted me off the ground like I weighed nothing, which I did not, then dropped me on the bed, coming down on top of me. And when his mouth came down on mine, there was a desperation to it, like he wanted everything, would take everything, because after tonight we’d go our separate ways and he didn’t want to miss one damn thing. I felt the same way. He knew as well as I that there was something profound between us, but despite that, it didn’t change anything, it couldn’t.

We both had our reasons for only wanting one night, and that was okay.

Then I stopped thinking because he slid my panties down my legs. My hands were on his back, digging into hard muscle, sliding higher, over his broad shoulders as he moved down my body. Strong hands gripped my inner thighs and he spread me wide, exposing me, then his mouth was there. I arched, crying out as he dragged his tongue through the center of me, lips wrapping around my clit before he was back to licking and sucking, making me jolt every time he dragged his tongue back up, giving me another one of those light sucks, or tugging gently with his lips. My hands found their way to his hair and I fisted, probably harder than I should, but I couldn’t stop myself. He didn’t seem to mind, which was a good thing, since I was mindless by this point. One of his hands came up my side, over my belly, and curled around my breast while he worked me, kneading, tormenting my nipple with just the right amount of pressure.

I felt it building, rushing up on me, and I automatically tried to jam my thighs shut. His scruff grazed my inner thighs and his hand left my breast and wrapped around my thigh holding me like that, tight against his face. His tongue started flicking relentlessly over my clit and my back bowed. He growled against me. That did it. I ground up against him, holding his head to me, while I cried out, moaning through the best orgasm I’d ever experienced.

When the last wave of pleasure rolled through me, I collapsed back, my legs falling open as he slid back up my body. One of his hands went back to my breast and his mouth landed back on mine. I could taste myself and somehow that was insanely hot. I reached down and attacked the front of his jeans, tearing them open. He lifted his hips for me and I shoved them down. Flinging a hand out, I wrenched my bedside drawer open and grabbed a condom. Thank God, I had one. I found it floating around my drawer after my ex Richard left. I’d had it for-freaking-ever, but I was thanking past Sunny for not throwing it out. I handed it to him and he took it, lifted so he was kneeling on the bed and shoved his jeans and boxer briefs down his thighs. His cock sprang free and my body undulated beneath him. There was no other way to describe it. I was beyond hot for him even after the orgasm he’d just given me.

Zeke’s nostrils flared, dark eyes moving over me as he tore open the condom.

I watched him roll it on and my body rolled again, legs spreading wider, so desperate to feel him pushing inside me, I hurt.

“Fuck,” he said, watching me, a tight grittiness to his voice that did nothing to cool my overheated state.

He dropped down on me and I wrapped my legs around his waist. “It’s been a while,” I whispered.

He paused. “How long?”

“Three years.” I felt my face heat.

“Fuck,” he said again.

“Is that going to be a prob—” The head of his cock was at my opening.

“Good?” he said, voice gruff.

“Yes . . . I . . . I want you so bad. God, Zeke.” I ached for him and I wanted him to know. For some reason I couldn’t explain, I wanted to be honest with him. I’d never wanted anyone like I did him in this moment.

He stilled for a split second, then said, or more groaned, into the darkness, “Sunshine.”

Tingles drifted over my scalp, over my whole body at the way he said that, then I was groaning as well because he was pushing inside me, filling me. He felt perfect, exquisite.

He muttered something under his breath then started moving. I clung to him, unable to do anything else. My hands moved over his body, the parts of him I could reach, feeling every ridge of muscle, the way it moved under my hands as he fucked me, the rough texture of scar tissue in different spots, then down to his firm ass, the way he moved against me, as he drove inside me.

His mouth slid up the side of my throat and he sucked and kissed my jaw, up to the sensitive spot behind my ear. I could hear every grunt and growl and deep groan. Perfection.

I turned into him, my mouth going to his ear. “Zeke . . .” I moaned. “I’m going to come again.”

He lifted to his elbows instantly and stared down at me, and I forced myself to stare back, to keep my eyes open as I cried out his name, at the pleasure he seemed to take from my nails dragging down his back. I came even harder than before with those eyes taking in everything, every second. Finally, he dropped back down, buried his face into the side of my neck, and grinding his hips into mine, pushing deep, he came with a fierce growl, so hard his body shook.

I stared at the ceiling, blinking. I was pretty sure I was in shock. I’d just had the best sexual experience in my life with a complete stranger, a scary, rough, growly, scarred stranger.

He rolled to the side, and I followed, not ready to be separated from him, and pressed my cheek to his hard chest, rested my hand on his abs. They twitched under my fingers, but he stayed where he was. Neither one of us said anything. We just lay there in silence. His breathing was heavy, fast, and I listened as it evened out, until it was slow and steady.

He’d leave soon. Sadness washed over me. How could that be? We’d barely even talked—well, he hadn’t. How could you miss someone you didn’t even know, that you’d only known for a matter of hours? But I did. He’d get up and he’d go and I’d . . . miss him. I didn’t believe in love at first sight. It was a ridiculous notion. But I felt something. It was deep and it was profound.

I woke some time later when the bed jostled. My cheek wasn’t pressed to a hard, warm, muscular chest anymore, it was on my pillow—and I was alone. I rolled over. Zeke was sitting on the edge of the bed, putting on his boots. He hadn’t put his shirt back on yet, and when he scooped it up and straightened, my breath got stuck in my throat. My room was still dark, but moonlight shone in through the windows since I hadn’t closed the curtains. His entire back was covered with a tattoo. A hooded figure, a sickle in his bony hand. The Grim Reaper. He shoved his shirt over his head, covering it, and turned to me.

Our eyes collided.

I stared at him and he stared back for what felt like forever.

“I need to go,” he said.

“I know.”

His eyes did a sweep of me, from head to toe, then he drew in a deep breath, let it out. Then turned and walked out the door.

I stared after him, gripping my sheet, and fought the urge to run after him and ask him to stay until morning.

Zeke leaving was for the best. Nothing good came from personal attachments, from relationships, friendships. The man I once thought was the one left when I couldn’t give him what he wanted. The only family I had ignored me until they wanted something from me. They’d left. They’d all left. It was the story of my life. And even though I didn’t actually know Zeke, I knew if I ever did get that close to him, and he did that to me as well, if he treated me that way, I might never get over it.

So I stayed where I was until I heard my front door click shut, then I sank deeper into the covers and pretended I was in a different home, someone else’s, filled with laughter and love, because right then, for the first time in a long time, I didn’t want to be alone anymore.