CHAPTER TWO
Fuck, yes.
The words sizzled through Jeremiah’s body, controlling him as if he were held prisoner by unbreakable strings. The Key West tiki bar waitress had kinks he’d never forget, but she hadn’t gripped him the way this woman did.
Were they still playing along in her fantasy, or had they crossed the line to reality, where being with her for even another minute wasn’t guaranteed?
Uncertainty stirred his adrenaline. He sensed that he didn’t have the luxury of time. He needed to find out her motives and intent, her vulnerabilities…and oh, yeah, what she had on underneath that thin red gift wrap.
Playing by her rules seemed the best way to go. He needed to be cool. Even if his cock was ready to burst free of his pants.
“I have the Cariocas Suite,” he said. Now was the best moment to let her know that he liked to be in control, too. “It’s more private than any dark corner or empty hall in this building. A fantasy with me has some requirements.”
“Requirements?”
“You out of that dress, and my mouth on your pussy. If you’re good with that, then let’s go.”
Jeremiah moved with purpose, snaking his fingers over hers and switching directions to get them to his suite the fastest. In the elevator she watched him closely before inquiring, “Why’d you hold my hand when we left the lounge?”
He stepped closer, until she was snug in a back corner of the elevator with nothing to focus on but his eyes, his words. “I wanted anyone who looked at us to know that you chose me.”
When the doors opened, revealing his quiet floor and the promise of what would happen once enclosed in his suite, she stepped out ahead of him, then asked over her shoulder, “When you saw me at the bar, did you know I’d end up in your room?”
“Know? Nope. But surprises keep life interesting, don’t they?” At the tightness in his voice, he softened the tension crackling between them with a quick curve of his lips. He unlocked the door and pushed it open. “Technically, you aren’t in my room.”
A fact he wanted to change now.
“You’re in a quiet hall, with nobody around but me,” he added, and saw her eyes widen in response.
“And now…” she moved toward him, then past him just into the suite’s foyer “…I’m in your room.”
Jeremiah rounded on his heel and filled the doorway, his hands planted on the frame above his head.
Her gaze coasted over him, taking in his height and form. “Well, are you going to kick me out?”
Moments danced by before he dropped his hands and reached her in two steps. “Hell, no.” Then his mouth crushed against hers.
She hooked her arms around his neck and hauled herself up, bringing her taut abdomen and supple breasts flush with his body. Her mouth opened without coaxing, and he indulged in swiping his tongue across her top row of teeth. She dropped back.
Jeremiah fisted her bell sleeves, pulling her closer. One more tug on her sleeves and she was pressed to him again.
She wriggled out of his grasp and walked her fingers down the front of his shirt, undoing buttons along the way. At the last button she paused, teasingly shifting her weight from one foot to the other with those round gray eyes on his. “One question, though. What do people call you?”
“Jeremiah.”
“People call me Waverly.” The final button was freed, and the sides of his shirt fell open.
What would he do if he couldn’t touch her bare flesh? He wasn’t going to find out, that was for damn sure.
Jeremiah brushed her hair back from her face, felt the tendrils slide over his skin, then let his fingers drift over her collarbone before he plucked the oversize sleeves off her shoulders and drew the barely-there garment down her body.
Waverly arrowed up, a squeal bubbling out as he continued to tug until she was down to silver lacy V-string panties and a deep red bra with half cups that offered soft, smooth tits he wanted to lose himself in. She nimbly brought her leg up and fastened it around his waist, then hoisted herself onto him, the intimate contact eliciting a groan.
Another flash of her smile, and he was ready to pin her to his king-size bed then and there.
“I’m looking forward to hearing you moan and scream, Waverly.”
“Give me a reason to, and I will.”
◆◆◆
Control kept Waverly grounded…sane. In her world, losing control meant welcoming chaos. But holy motherfuck, she felt herself delighting in following Jeremiah’s lead as he touched and whispered and coaxed and reminded her exactly how good it felt to just let go.
Over ten years had passed since her last true fun-only fling. Along the way she’d become accustomed to committed relationships that had pleased her parents. At least when those fell apart, she never had to worry about her mother and father blaming her for choosing the wrong man.
A relationship was the last thing she wanted, and the man skimming his hands down her back now was more than capable of giving her what she did want: no-hassle sex.
Jeremiah took her mouth again, and the sensation intensified when he cupped her ass with both hands and squeezed.
Hit with stray concerns of whether he thought her butt was too fleshy or not fleshy enough, she whispered, “Nothing special there.”
“I think you’re wrong about that.” For emphasis he gave her a firm tap, then, with a low rumble of laughter, soothed the spot with a gentle stroke. “Nice jiggle.”
Was she actually in a suite at the Rio, down to her undies and heels, having her ass slapped by a panty-meltingly hot not-a-bartender?
Jeremiah shifted her against him and she felt a thick ridge of hard flesh nestle at the juncture of her thighs.
Yeah. This was so happening.
He set her on her feet and led the way past a lavish sitting area, and when she paused to kick off her shoes, she looked up and saw the city twinkling outside the wall of windows.
“Waverly?” He stood in the doorway of what must be the suite’s bedroom.
Waverly glanced back at him, then again toward the nighttime view. Go big or go home, right?
Before she had a chance to change her mind, she reached behind her and unsnapped her bra. The bold move felt more as though she’d freed herself from chains as opposed to delicate lace. “Come get me here.”
Jeremiah muttered a dirty curse that seemed to stroke all her erogenous zones at once, and rushed her, taking her with him to the sofa. He fit his hands over her breasts, scraping his fingernails across her nipples until she cried out and gripped his sides with her knees.
With a push to his chest, she urged him backward onto the sofa, rising up to straddle his hips. “Let’s even out the playing field and get you just as naked as I am.”
He drew a fingertip down from the side of her face to her nipple. The movement was slow, almost too sweet for an encounter between two strangers who after tonight would never see each other again.
She interrupted his exploration to creatively reverse her straddle and scoot up his torso, bringing her ass close to his face. “Full disclosure. My friend said if I didn’t sit on your face, she would.”
“What’s her name? In case you don’t follow through and let me eat your pretty little cunt?”
“You’re so fucking filthy.” She unhooked his belt and diligently pushed both his pants and boxer briefs down his hips until she was rewarded with his erection. “Oh, I’m definitely following through.”
Jeremiah caught her waist and slid her up higher. Bent over him, she felt totally bared, erotically exposed…and at the mercy of his mouth when he moved her undies out of the way, spread her labia, and swirled his tongue over her wet flesh.
And her phone buzzed.
Or was that her? The sudden heat of his mouth had her eyes crossing and she clenched her jaw so tightly she might’ve chipped a tooth.
Another buzz. Definitely her phone. The sound stopped, only to resume several seconds later. The caller wasn’t giving up.
Waverly pushed away from Jeremiah. “I have to get that.”
“Ignore it. Please.”
“I’m ninety-nine percent certain who’s calling, and she doesn’t respond well to being ignored.” Tuning out his protests, Waverly ran to the foyer table where she’d deposited her handbag.
A swift glance at the caller ID on the phone’s display confirmed that her mother was calling, no doubt irritated that her eldest child was late for the Villains’ party. Instantly her mother’s name and number put priorities back into perspective, and with slightly unsteady hands Waverly returned the phone to her bag. Playtime was over, but she wouldn’t answer the call while still in Jeremiah’s suite—and naked.
She strode back into the sitting room.
“Mmm. You standing there in those diamonds with Las Vegas behind you is incredible.”
If only he knew that part of her was still lost in their unexpected hookup and didn’t want to leave unfulfilled. He was all ropey muscle stretched out on the sofa, ready to come to her. Or for her. Or in her.
“This was interesting, Jeremiah,” she said, schooling her features into a calm expression. “But I’ve got to go now.” As if to punctuate the announcement, her phone started convulsing in her bag again.
She averted her gaze, because the last thing she needed was to see her own disappointment mirrored in this man’s eyes or to be persuaded to stay when she shouldn’t.
“What was that, then, Waverly? An escape call?”
As if she wanted to escape oral? “No, I didn’t invent a reason to leave. I know how this looks, all right? But I got carried away with you and lost track of time. I’m supposed to be somewhere else, Jeremiah. Not here.”
Wish I had no other place to be but here. Whoa. How had she so totally lost the focus she reserved for the job that meant everything to her? She didn’t know this man, so why did the thought of breezing out of his life prickle painfully?
Waverly sighed, watched him kick aside his underwear and step into his pants, his face etched with carefully controlled—but no doubt deep—disappointment. Seeing his muscles bunch triggered a reminder of how only moments ago he’d grabbed her and started licking. Her nipples pebbled at the memory, growing even harder as he looked her way.
Sighing, she turned to find her bra, mentally patting herself on the back for maintaining the dignity—okay, stubbornness—to not hide her traitorously alert nipples.
“Staying with you would only get in the way of something that I’ve really wanted for a long time, Jeremiah.”
“We can’t have that.”
The mournful note in his voice nearly shook her where she stood. Could letting her go really affect him, when women probably moved through his life like fallen leaves down the road, and there were likely dozens still partying in VooDoo who could easily take her place? Could an instant connection—no matter how electric—matter that much to him? “Haven’t you ever had a goal to push for, something that takes priority over everything else?” she asked.
“I do, as a matter of fact.”
“And it’s bigger, more important, than this thing between us, right?”
“Yeah,” came the gravelly response. “It really is.”
“You’ll be okay.” She pulled on her dress in record speed. Hoping for levity, she added, “Thanks for the oral.”
“I barely sampled your pussy.”
“Well, I really like the way you sample.”
“Open your legs, and I’ll make you come so hard you’ll see fucking stars.”
She believed it. Gripping her dress, ready to whip it off and demand that he stop promising and start tongue-fucking, she dazedly remembered her mother’s call. “Can’t, Jeremiah.”
“You’re killing me,” he replied, escorting her to the door. Still shirtless. Still hard.
“That thing guys say happens to their anatomy after getting all worked up with no follow-through?” she asked. “Is that called blue balls?”
“Don’t worry about it. I’ve got a strong right hand.”
“Maybe we’ll see each other again.”
“If I had your phone number, I could make sure we do, Waverly.”
“If I give you my number, I’ll be expecting you to call. Guess I’m needy that way. And I don’t want to put you—or me—through that whole phone-call-expectation thing. If we’re meant to find each other again, it’ll happen. If not, so be it.”
“So be it,” he echoed in a voice that was controlled but couldn’t disguise his regret. “Goodbye.”
With a wiggle of her fingers, Waverly hurried out of the suite and away from hands down the hottest almost-a-hookup of her life.