SLAP SHOT. Chapter One

 

“Is there an airport around here or is that my heart taking off?”

I looked up, and up some more, searching for the face of the culprit who’d dished out possibly the cheesiest pick-up line ever.

Seriously. Airport. Heart taking off?

High above me, chestnut-colored eyes full of mirth topped with heavy black eyebrows sparkled down. Despite myself, I couldn’t help but smile back as his mouth stretched wide, revealing neat, white teeth and dimples that just didn’t belong on such a giant of a man.

“I’ve got more if you like that one,” he offered, shoving his hands into his pockets and shifting on the baked pathway that led to the church.

I pulled my best and-you-seriously-think-I-want-to-hear-them? expression and clutched my clipboard to my chest.

“Yeah,” he said, his voice deep and rasping. “How about, are you a parking ticket, babe, ’cause you got fine written all over you?”

I groaned and glanced at the bride and groom who were still busy having their photographs taken. Despite the corny approach, the testosterone-overdosed guy looming at my side was hot, damn hot, hot enough to make a nun break her vow of celibacy. And I, for one, was no nun.

He tipped his head to mine, his mouth only a whisper from my ear. The scent of citrus, honey and amber filled my nose, an aftershave so tantalizing and unique I couldn’t help but suck in a little more deeply than was required. He spoke again and his warm breath tickled my neck. “I wish you were a door, then I could bang you all night long.”

“That’s truly terrible.” I shook my head and took a step away. “Don’t tell me it has ever actually got you anywhere.”

“Once or twice.” He grinned. “I’m Rick by the way.” His huge palm cupped my elbow, preventing me from moving any farther. “Remember that name, darlin’, ’cause you’ll be screaming it later.”

I shifted my elbow from his grip. “I think we can safely say that is not going to happen.” My legs stayed firmly together these days. Gone was the old Dana who’d danced and played around, living life to the fullest, partying as though there was no tomorrow. The new Dana was work-focused, determined—a classy, independent woman.

“I’m sorry.” He shrugged and grinned. “My mouth gets carried away sometimes.”

“Is that another line?”

“No.” He laughed, rubbing his fingers over the patch of dark hair beneath his full bottom lip. “But it could be.” He held out his hand. “Rick Lewis.”

I placed my hand in his palm and his colossal fingers wrapped around mine. “Nice to meet you, Rick.” I already knew who he was because it was my company, Best Laid Plans, that had been responsible for organizing Mae French and Charles “Wolf” Roberts’ wedding. For weeks I’d been scanning lists of the guests, checking and double-checking invitations and place settings, hotel rooms and personal favors. The sheer volume of famous names from both the world of the NHL and the music industry had required extra security measures. No one wanted the picture-hungry paparazzi or overzealous fans intruding on the big day. The local police had even insisted on checking over security arrangements, something they’d never done before at one of my events.

“So now you’re at a distinct advantage,” he said, sliding Ray-Bans down from tousled black hair and settling them over his eyes. “You know who I am but I have no idea who you are.”

“Dana Wilcox, and I’m sorry but you’ll have to excuse me, I have work to do.” I glanced at my clipboard.

“Work?”

“Yes, I’m the event organizer.”

“Ah, then you’ll be at the reception venue?”

“Of course.” And the sooner we got there the better. The Florida humidity was killer today.

“Good, that means you’ll dance with me later then, Miss Dana Wilcox, event organizer.”

“I very much doubt it.”

He smiled again with a mixture of cockiness and challenge. “Wanna bet?”

“If I was a gambling woman then yes, I would bet.” I spun on my heels and strutted away. Although my final words had been cool, I couldn’t ignore the heat of Rick “Ramrod” Lewis’ gaze on my butt. It was like a hot caress, licks of flame curling over my tight pencil skirt and down my calves to my towering, fire-engine-red heels.

As I stepped toward the photographer’s assistant, a shiver of appreciation for the sexy hockey player who’d asked me for a dance snaked up my spine. My walk turned a little more sensual, a little more provocative—my hips rolling just a fraction more than they needed to.

I would have to make a point of avoiding Rick Lewis later. Despite his cheesy pick-up lines, he was clearly dangerous. A man who could make my flesh sizzle with just a few words and a cheeky gaze was definitely not good for continuing my two years of sexual abstinence.

 

 

The reception ran like clockwork. Country-and-western star Mae was stunning in a voluminous ball-gown-style wedding dress, which suited the fairytale hotel she’d invited her four hundred guests to. She was aglow with happiness and the smile never once left her face. Not even when the best man made a comment about Wolf’s past conquests and the top tier of the chocolate cake wobbled dangerously when a child dressed as one of the seven dwarves charged into it. Dopey, I think.

I stared out the floor-to-ceiling window. Dusk was rapidly turning to night. I was relieved to see that the herd of unicorns grazing on the lawn had all managed to keep their horns attached. It had taken a considerable number of calls to get eight white Andalusians transported in, and even more anxious calls from my assistant, Maddie, trying to get long, silver polystyrene horns made for their white head collars. The men on stilts juggling fire at the drawbridge entrance had been easier to organize, but the glass pumpkin-shaped carriage had been considerably trickier.

Still, I couldn’t complain. Best Laid Plans was being paid handsomely for the event, and in turn so was I. Soon I would own my house outright, something I never thought would happen in my life. Just went to show that, along with a ton of hard work, planning parties for the rich and famous could be very lucrative.

I still surprised myself sometimes when I sat back and looked at what I’d achieved. I’d grown up with a drunken father and a mother who liked a few hits of dope by three in the afternoon, every afternoon. As soon as I could, I’d left home, got an honest job for all of three weeks, then, just when my only option was sleeping rough, I was offered more money per hour dancing than I could earn in a week at the mall. I knew it wasn’t what I would do forever, but it had paid my way and given me something to focus on.

Trouble was, I’d become more and more entrenched in the seedy nocturnal world. To my horror, each day I was becoming more and more like my parents—until, that is, my wake-up call—a wake-up call that had been swift and final and changed my life.

My thoughts came back to the wedding, and right on time the music switched from one of Mae’s rockier hit records to one of her slow ballads. In a deep, bellowing voice, the DJ announced the first dance.

I moved to the end of the long mahogany bar draped with orange and cream flowers and found a spot tucked out of the way of guests.

“Here,” Jay, the head barman, said. “You look like you could use a drink.” He slid a tall glass my way, the orange contents fizzing invitingly.

“Thanks,” I said, perching on a stool and sipping the wonderfully peachy concoction.

“It’s a Fizzy Fuzzy Navel.” He grinned, spinning an empty glass into the air and catching it behind his back. “If you like it I’ll make you a hairy one later.”

I laughed and turned to watch Mae and Wolf take to the flickering shadows of the dance floor. Jay had been easy to work with during the planning of the wedding. He was flirty and full of laughs but he was way too young. If I’d been on the lookout for a man in my life, that was, which I definitely wasn’t. That plan was several years away, and even then he would have to be Mr. Absolutely Spot-on Perfect.

A movement in the shadows of the curtains caught my eye. Out of the fading light stepped the captain of the Orlando Vipers.

I snatched in my breath and wondered how long he’d been standing there, so very near to where I’d been staring out at the grounds. Close—but silent.

He banged his bottle of beer on the bar next to my Fizzy Fuzzy Navel. “Hi, Dana,” he said, his wide shoulders and considerable height looming at my side.

“What, no cheesy pick-up line this time?” I asked, hooking my left heel on the brass rung at the base of my barstool and crossing my legs.

His eyes swept over me for the briefest of moments. “I’ve exhausted all my best lines on you and they didn’t get me anywhere.” He shrugged and one side of his mouth tugged upward. “I give up.”

“Really, that easily? I don’t believe it.”

His eyes narrowed and small creases shot toward his temples. “Nah, just lulling you into a false sense of security.”

“Oh, I see.” I took another sip of my drink. “And what if I told you I’m just not interested, no matter what line you use?”

“You’re not interested in men?” He shoved his hip against the bar and folded his arms. “You don’t strike me as a girl’s girl.”

That wasn’t what I’d meant, I liked men plenty. Cock over pussy every time, when I wasn’t celibate. But I didn’t tell him that. Instead I tipped my head and waited for him to go on.

“A beautiful woman like you,” he said. “It would be a crime to mankind if you didn’t share your elegant…” He paused and scanned my body again, from the toes of my pointed high heels right back to my chest, covered demurely in a cream silk blouse with the tiniest red polka dots. “It would be a crime if you didn’t share your delectable body with an appreciative, willing, experienced man.”

“Then you’re only interested in me for my body?”

“Hell, no.” His mouth stretched into an infectious grin. “Well, maybe there’s a little bit of interest from certain parts of my anatomy.”

I smiled back up at him, it was impossible not to, and wondered why my heart was hammering in my chest. Why my breathing was quick and shallow. His delicious thick scent enveloped me again and the music had dulled into the background. “Thanks for your honesty,” I managed, my fingers tightening on my glass. “It’s a refreshing change.”

“I’m an honest guy.” He tugged his bottom lip with his teeth, stretching the small soul patch in the cleft of his chin.

I sipped my drink and tried to play it cool. I’d been right to be cautious earlier, Rick was a dangerous guy for the new Dana. Old Dana would have dragged him into the nearest closet and banged him senseless—he was definitely old Dana’s type, tall, dark and devastatingly handsome, with chiseled cheekbones and a soft, sensuous mouth.

Not to mention the sin smoldering in his brown eyes—bad, greedy, but oh, such delicious sin. Yes, he was definitely someone to avoid if I was going to stick to my life plan.

“If you don’t believe I’m an honest guy then get to know me,” he said with a shrug. “Dinner tomorrow?”

“Sorry, no can do.” I resisted adding because there was no way I would give old Dana a chance at him. It would get messy, dirty, sweaty and naked real quick.

“Then lunch, or a coffee? A movie, I bet you like the movies.”

“I’m sorry,” I said. “It’s not you. I’m just not dating at the moment.”

“Why, you had a bad breakup?”

“That’s none of your business.”

He shrugged and raised his beer to his lips. “Guy is either a complete jerk or drowning his sorrows somewhere because he knows he’ll never have a stunner like you again.” He shook his head. “Poor sucker, if he wasn’t competition I’d almost feel sorry for him.”

“No breakup,” I said, draining my glass. “I’m just busy with my work. It takes up all my time.”

“So I shouldn’t be offended at the rejection?”

“No, definitely not, and I’m sure there are plenty of women who would bite your hand off for a date.”

He shrugged. “Yeah, trouble is the only woman I want to bite me is you.”

I swept my tongue over my bottom lip. The thought of tasting him, biting him, was just too damn powerful to ignore. I dragged in a breath and braced my shoulders. Set my face to business mode. “It was nice chatting but please excuse me, I have final details of the evening to organize.” I reached over the bar and grabbed my clipboard, all the time aware of his gaze drinking up my every move. It was as though he was a starving man feasting on my curves. In normal circumstances it would have been irritating but there was something about him, despite his terrible pick-up lines, that appealed to a very base, very carnal level of my soul.

“Don’t forget the Cristal, Jay,” I reminded the barman as he glanced my way. “In ten minutes, to go with the fireworks out front.”

“Already on the case, boss,” he said with a grin and a wink. He flipped the lid off a bottle of beer and handed it to a hulking blond guy who nodded in Rick’s direction.

“I’ll see you later then, for that dance,” Rick said, turning back to me after acknowledging the nod.

I stood and my eye line came level with the cream flower in his lapel. “I’m afraid I don’t mix business with pleasure.”

“Ah.” His face lit. “So you do admit it would be pleasurable to dance with me?”

I looked up. His eyes glinted like great vats of thick chocolate. He was too tempting and too damn sharp by far and that damn Fuzzy Navel had messed with my cool, calm, collected thought processes.

I had to get out of there.

“Dancing is pleasurable, yes,” I said, moving away. “Though whether or not it would be pleasurable with you I will never know. Good night, Mr. Lewis.” I stepped from the bar, needing space and air. I wound through guests watching the newlyweds dance and made it out into the starkly lit, cool corridors of the hotel.

Ducking into the kitchen, I confirmed that the late evening buffet was set to go after the fireworks then headed to the small office the hotel had loaned me for the weekend. I clicked on a table lamp and the windowless room filled with a soft glow. I tapped my long red fingernails on my laptop and hit start. As it whirred to life I spoke to the fireworks guy who assured me they were minutes away from go, then I confirmed with the head stablehand that all the horses had been safely put away for the night.

A knock on the door snapped my attention from my clipboard. “Come in,” I called, wondering who it could be. Everyone who knew I had this tiny office was busy carrying out my instructions.

The door swung open.

My heart stuttered.

Filling the frame was an enormous silhouette that could only belong to one guy at the wedding.

“What are you doing here?” I asked, setting aside my cell and straightening.

“I thought I’d give you my number, in case you change your mind about the dating thing,” Rick said, his deep, gritty voice echoing around the quiet office.

“You followed me?”

“I went to the restroom and saw you heading this way on those sinfully sexy shoes you’re wearing.” He paused. “I was hypnotized, it was like a scene from the Pied Piper. I had to follow you.”

“I’m sorry but you wasted your energy because I won’t change my mind about dating, not for a long time.” I shifted on my heels.

He stepped into the room and shut the door with a quiet click.

“You’ll miss the fireworks,” I said, wondering why it felt as though the temperature had suddenly rocketed up several degrees. “If you don’t get back to the reception.”

“I can take or leave lights in the sky.” He shrugged out of his suit jacket and dropped it over the back of a chair. My gaze was drawn to the white shirt he wore that stretched tight over his hard, well-defined muscles. The top button was undone and his tie was gone.

“No, seriously you have to leave, I’m very busy. I have things to do.” I tapped my pen against the clipboard.

“And when you’re done, then what?”

“Then I’ll go home, rest, and get up early to work again tomorrow. My business doesn’t run itself.”

“All work and no play will make you very dull, Dana.”

“Maybe I like being dull.” I dropped my pen and folded my arms over my chest, tried to press in my nipples, which were hardening and twisting with each softly spoken word he uttered.

“You don’t like being dull, not really.” He picked up the pen and wrote a string of numbers on the top left-hand corner of my clipboard. “Call me, we’d have fun. I can tell.”

“How can you possibly tell?”

A sexy twinkle in his eyes told me he was enjoying our banter. “Oh, I have a way of knowing these things,” he said, stepping around the desk and moving up close, real close.

My feet stayed rooted to the floor as his body heat and his smell completely overwhelmed my senses. His voice and the undisguised desire in his eyes captured a need in me that demanded attention. I tried to beat down a wave of pure, shocking lust that flowed through my body like red-hot lava. Lust was not something I’d entertained for a long time, but right now it was besieging me. Right now sex was the only thing this perfect specimen of a man had me thinking about.

Rick was larger than life, his presence all-consuming in my office. It was as though he took up every square inch of physical space simply with his existence. I tried to remember my reasons for not agreeing to a date, for ever having started this damn celibacy thing, but the memories and the knowledge escaped me and in their place a carnal need grew—hungry and desperate, greedy and demanding.

“Dana,” he whispered, his voice like silk over sandpaper. “Just one date, how hard can it be?” His voice dropped lower. “I promise I’ll be a good boy and I won’t sully your pristine reputation.”

I shook my head, confusion running through my brain. Pristine reputation? Old Dana’s reputation was far from pristine, but she hadn’t been around for years.

He reached out and looped a thick finger into a dark curl hanging over my collarbone. When he gently tugged the roots, my scalp screamed for more sensation. It had been so long, too long since a man had touched me in even this small way.

Suddenly something deep inside me snapped. Blood rushed to my face and seared through my body. I reached for biceps nearly as wide as my waist and pushed myself up to meet his dipped head. “Rick,” I murmured, my lips a hairsbreadth from his. “Stop talking about damn dates and pristine reputations and kiss me.”

He didn’t need asking twice.

I gasped as he crushed his lips to mine and slipped his tongue between my teeth with a challenging, ravenous urgency. I gripped the material of his shirt, parting my lips, my tongue chasing for his, tasting him, drawing in the sweet, malty, masculine flavor of his mouth.

He groaned and the sound vibrated from his chest into mine. We were pressed against each other, our bodies touching from our lips to our toes. The taste and feel of him was exquisite, like drowning in dark, forbidden sin. I realized that this was exactly what I wanted. Why the hell had I been resisting all this time? Or maybe I hadn’t, maybe I had just been waiting for him.

God, I wanted this man. I barely knew him but the need was like an all-powerful magnet, a gravitational force. Straining to get closer, to deepen the kiss, I reached high and locked my hands at his nape, pulled him nearer.

“Ah fuck, you taste awesome. I knew you would,” he murmured, his lips leaving mine to explore my neck. “And you feel it, too.” He slid his big hands down the silken material of my blouse, following the shape of my spine before cupping my rear. He tightened his hold, squeezing me up against the hard wedge of his erection—hot and thick, a solid weight of arousal beneath his suit pants.

I gasped. His cock was so damn huge, so damn solid.

He tore his mouth from my neck. “Tell me to fucking leave,” he said in a heavy, warning voice, “if you still don’t wanna mix business with pleasure, tell me to get the hell out of here…now.”

“Don’t you dare leave.” I grabbed for the side of his face, kissed him, bit at his bottom lip and tugged. It stretched toward me then I sank in my teeth, just a little.

The sharp nip seemed to send him beyond a point of control. He made a harsh growling sound and plunged his tongue back into my mouth as his fingers worked at my skirt, rucking the tight material upward until it was a band around my waist.

I began tearing at his shirt, fumbling fingers dragging the studs through the holes. My hunger, my impatience was wild and desperate and I didn’t know if it would ever be sated. But I was going to have a damn good try.

He shoved his thigh between my legs and the damp gusset of my panties made contact with his solid leg muscle. My hips began to grind, my desperate clit crying out for stimulation.

“Jeez, you’re a wild thing,” he said, finally ridding himself of his shirt.

I planted my hands on his hot chest. Coarse, dark hairs filled the gaps between my fingers. His lips slanted over mine again and there was a clatter as my clipboard, a pile of pencils and my cell fell to the floor.

“Wait,” I said, fearing for my laptop.

For the briefest of moments his body left mine to move my laptop to the safety of the floor. I whimpered at the loss of our connection. I’d long since forgotten why I was supposed to be resisting, I was just going to take what I damn well could.

Between one breath and the next he had me up on the table, my back flat on the cool surface and my legs wrapped around his waist.

“How much do you want me to fuck you?” he growled, the hardness of his cock pressing through the thin, moisture-laden barrier of my panties and his eyes ablaze with need.

“Oh God, lots, fuck, yes, I want it lots, please.” Old Dana was well and truly back. “Just get a damn condom on and fuck me already.” I needed him so badly it was a force that was threatening to drive me insane.

I tangled my hands in his hair and gasped as his fingers slipped beneath the elastic of my panties.

“You’re dripping for me,” he murmured approvingly, parting the softly swollen folds of my sex.

I could feel myself dampening further at his touch. “Please, please.”

“As you asked nicely.”

I gasped as he rode one thick finger into my entrance, stretching tissue unused to a male touch.

But instantly it wasn’t enough. I wanted more. Squirming, I thrust my pelvis down onto his finger and was rewarded with a thicker filling sensation as he added another. The heel of his palm caught on my clit, a wonderful pressure that radiated to every pore. The man’s enormous hands were a precious gift and thankfully he knew exactly how to use them.

Groaning, I reveled in the pleasure surging though me. But only for a few seconds, because then once again I wanted more. I wanted every touch he could give me, but I wanted to touch him, too. Drive him crazy the way he was me.

I slipped my arms between our bodies, my thighs falling outward wantonly, my red heels balanced on the very edge of the table. It briefly went through my mind that my reputation would be more than sullied if someone walked into my office right now, but recklessly the thought flitted away as my palm came into contact with one damn fine erection.

“Rick.” His name tore from my throat. Desire was a devil burning beneath my skin. “Rick, condom, now. Get inside me, properly.”

He moaned and stood straight, his fingers slipping from between my legs.

Hastily, I looped my panties off then watched, wide-eyed as he tugged down the zipper on his fly and released his cock.

Fuck. It isn’t just his hands that are enormous.

From a tangle of black curls rose the longest, thickest, most heavily veined cock I’d ever laid eyes on.

“Dana,” he said, his voice strangled. “Put it on for me.” He handed me an open condom wrapper.

Quickly I slipped the thin latex out and curved one hand around his hot shaft.

His breath hitched. He stilled.

I swept my fingers down to the root then up again, relishing the marble-hard surface and the satiny-soft skin. I slid my hand over his engorged, darkened head and skimmed the tip of my finger through his slit.

He hissed and every muscle in his body appeared to tense.

My God, could I really take this beast inside me?

He reached for my hand, which was still holding the wrapper. “Put it on,” he instructed through ragged breaths. “Hurry.”

“But? Will we…?”

“We’ll fit just fine,” he growled. “Never had any damn complaints in the past.”

Suddenly my fears thinned and my patience dissolved. Of course it would be fine. Like riding a bike. I could still do this. With dexterous moves I rolled the condom down his shaft. Glanced up and caught his gaze. It was stormy and glazed, possessed by the same basic desires that had harnessed me.

“You’re so damn small and sweet,” he whispered hoarsely as he spread over me again, pressing my back into the table and parting my legs farther with his thighs. “Which means you’re going to have to really relax, okay?”

“Yes, yes, please, now.”

As the engorged crest of his cock pushed up against my sopping entrance, his mouth took possession of mine. I gave as good as I got, kissing him with such urgency it was as though my life depended upon our joining. He entered me an inch and pain-pleasure tore through me as tender tissue parted for his wide head.

His groan was loud and guttural in my mouth. He curled his coccyx and claimed more of me. The pinch of pain burned this time and I cried out.

“Relax, honey,” he gasped. The desire in his voice washed over me—dark, soothing and sensuous. “Hold onto me if you need to. I’ve got you. It’s going to blow your mind, you just need to relax.”

He forged forward and wild, exquisite sensations filled my nerve endings. I moaned and it mixed with his deep, male groan. His entry was an uncomfortable but erotic experience that had my spine arching and my long nails clawing at his back. I wanted more in equal measure to wanting him to stop.

There was no way on this earth he was stopping.

He shoved his hips right up against me and his balls crashed against my butt and the head of his cock, I swear, nudged at my diaphragm, blasting the air from my lungs.

“Ah jeez, I’ve died and gone to heaven,” he groaned, palming my breast through my blouse. “You’re so damn tight.”

“Only ’cause you’re so damn big,” I panted. The feel of his cock stretching me and thrusting deeper had turned into a brutal form of ecstasy.

“You’ll grow to love that about me,” he said, his teeth raking over my cheek and his soul patch scratching at my flesh.

“You think?” I gasped, sucking in his scent, now combined with the heady smell of my own arousal.

“Yeah, in about two seconds.”

He withdrew, almost all the way, then glided back in through my thick moisture, his pubic bone connecting wonderfully with my clit.

“Oh God, yes, yes, I love it, don’t stop,” I called out shamelessly.

Why the hell had I denied myself all this time? “Rick, Rick.”

His throaty chuckle combined with a tortured groan filled my ears as he picked up the pace. His face rasped against mine and our bodies slammed together as he thrust his cock harder and faster, faster and harder. Spearing me and grinding up against my clit, sending vibrant, chaotic sensations ricocheting around my body.

The orgasm that claimed me was swift and furious. One second I was building up to it, the next I was over the edge. Adrenaline flooded my system, blood pounded through my ears. I locked my heels in the small of his back, rocking my clit against his concrete body mass even more firmly. Without warning, another orgasm crashed through me, surging upward and tearing me in a million different directions. I dragged my long nails down his shoulders, vaguely aware of the harsh intake of breath it generated as he plunged, wilder and more animalistic than ever.

He stiffened in my arms, buried deep, catching me just as my pussy milked through a third mind-altering orgasm.

“I’m coming,” he growled, his weight crushing down on me. “I’m fucking coming, I’m coming really fucking high up inside you.” He buried his cock deeper and I was aware of his rigid shaft throbbing and pulsing within me, filling the condom.

Feeling his pleasure catapulted me onto an extreme high and euphoria flooded my being. He jerked against me, drawing out the ecstasy. The small amount of breath I had was shunted from my lungs in several sharp gasps.

“Oh yes, fuck, yes,” he groaned, his palms catching my cheeks. “That was fucking awesome. You’re fucking awesome.”

He kissed me passionately and thoroughly, his tongue exploring every part of my mouth as his body trembled through several deeply profound spasms. I swept my hands over his broad shoulders. They were laced with sweat, the heat pouring from him as hot as any fire.

Suddenly I landed back in the real world, our precarious, risky position taking control once more of my thoughts. I pressed against his chest and tore my lips from his.

He seemed reluctant to move and, despite my best shove, stayed over me, still kissing me, still rocking into me as we both caught our breath.

“We have to get dressed,” I panted.

“Mmm, in a minute.”

“No, now, someone might come in.”

“No one is coming in.”

“They might, get off me.”

He straightened, stood tall, but stayed buried inside me as he ran his calloused palms over the outside of my thighs, which were spread around his hips. “You’re so soft,” he said in an awe-filled voice, looking down at where we were joined. “So soft and such a perfect fit for me.” He pulled out a little then smoothed back in, swiping over my clit with his thumb.

“Oh God, please, stop,” I said, wanting nothing more than to go all night. I’d had hot, fast sex before but nothing had ever matched this, never had I blasted out three orgasms from a quickie.

“Your words don’t match your physical response,” he said, a note of humor in his tone now. “I don’t think you want to stop at all. I think you want to keep fucking me all night.”

I summoned up the last dregs of my pathetic willpower and shifted up the table. His barely softening cock slid from me and he released my thighs. “I have to go check on the fireworks,” I said.

“Babe, I think we just made our own damn fireworks.” He chuckled, stooping for my panties then swinging them from his index finger in my direction.

“And we shouldn’t have, it was a huge mistake.” I snatched my panties from him.

His face creased into a frown. “Ouch, say it how it is, why don’t you? You want to physically kick me in the nuts, too?”

I sighed and slipped from the table. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it.”

Shit, I did mean it. I’d just blown two years of celibacy.

“I said I wasn’t dating. That’s because I don’t need the complication, the distraction of a man in my life right now.”

“But you clearly needed a man, me, just then. What was it you said?” He tugged off the condom and tucked his cock away. “Oh yes, I remember.” He made his voice high and breathless. “‘Yes, yes, I love it, don’t stop’. Now that to me sounds like someone who’s been denying herself something she needs for too long.” He dropped the condom in the wastebasket.

I wriggled my skirt straight, adjusted my blouse. “I was denying myself for a reason.”

“Explain.” He reached for his shirt and shoved his arms through the sleeves, the noise of cotton against flesh suddenly loud in the silence of the room.

He carefully did up his buttons.

“Explain,” he said again when his clothing was neat. “I want to know why a sexy woman like you hasn’t been taking a man to her bed.” Shadows from the dim lamp sliced across his face and highlighted his now very messy hair.

I tightened my lips. There was no way in hell I was going to explain to him that I’d been busy burying a past I wasn’t proud of, shaping a new image not just to the outside world but also to myself. “You have to leave,” I said, stooping and banging things back onto the desk. “I still have a few hours of work to do.”

His eyes narrowed as he lifted up the laptop. “Then when you’ve finished come back to my place,” he said, his voice as thick and inviting as sticky, sweet molasses. “Come back and sleep in my bed and let me remind you exactly what you’ve been missing.”

“No, that’s impossible.”

“Seems perfectly possible to me.”

“No,” I said in a harsher tone. “I don’t want you, Rick, I don’t want any man. What part of you doesn’t get that?”

Suddenly he curled his arms around my waist. He snapped me to him, pressing his lips against my ear, his body burning hot against mine. “The part of me that just felt you ripping at my clothes, grinding your pussy against my thigh, then writhing beneath me begging me to fuck you, that’s the part of me that doesn’t get it, Dana. That is the part of me that just can’t fucking believe you don’t need a man in your bed and your life.” His voice lowered. “A man like me.”

I pushed at him, twisted my body, and was thankful when he released me. “Go,” I said, biting back a rush of regret. If only he’d come into my life several years down the line, maybe things could be different. “Go, or I’ll call security and have you hauled out.”

He huffed and grabbed his jacket. “Yeah, you try that, but the way my life is going they’ll probably think you’re more of a danger to me than I am to you.”

I cocked my head, wondering what he’d meant.

He frowned and turned, reached for the door handle.

I pressed my fingers to my lips. “Wait,” I gasped, staring at several scarlet dots seeping into the stark white of his dress shirt, right over his shoulder blades. “Shit, sorry, you better put your jacket on.”

He twisted to look at me, confusion etched on his face. “Why?”

I held up my hands, wriggled my fingers so my long nails caught the light. “You have spots of blood on the back of your shirt.”

“Perfect, absolutely fucking perfect,” he muttered and disappeared out of the office, banging the door behind him.