Have Me

It had nothing to do with her being a Winslow. The subject hadn’t come up and he didn’t expect it to. Not when there were so many other interesting things to talk about.

He smiled as they waited for a desk clerk. She smiled in return and he wanted to kiss her. He’d stood close to her in the elevator, gotten a whiff of her perfume, and the effect still sizzled through his veins. He had no idea what the scent was, only that it made him want to spend a hell of a long time exploring that long, graceful neck of hers.

That they’d barely touched was both horrible and hot. He knew she’d be soft, but that was far too vague. How different soft was between the shell of an ear, the skin just under a belly button. His gaze drifted down as he realized there was no word for how it would feel to run his fingers across her inner thigh.

Shit, if he was going to be thinking like that, he should button his coat. Hide the evidence. Thankfully, the woman who’d made his reservation earlier called them to the desk.

“Is something wrong?” she asked.

“We double-booked. Miscommunication. I hope it’s not too late to cancel.”

“Mr. Donnelly, right?”

Surprised that she remembered his name, he nodded.

“I’ll cancel that right now, sir. It’ll be a moment.”

Jake glanced at Rebecca. He liked that she was tall, five-eight, he’d guess? A six-inch difference was very doable. Not that anything couldn’t be worked around. He signed his name on the line, gave back the key card, and finally, they were free to leave.

“Thank you, Mr. Donnelly,”

“Yeah, thanks,” he said, tearing his gaze from Rebecca, but he barely gave the other woman a second because his date, this amazing woman in the sleek black dress, tossed her hair behind her shoulder and tugged him along and it was as if the flag had been lowered in a race he hadn’t known he was running. It took him two steps to catch up, and when they looked at each other, side by side, gripping each other’s hands, they grinned like idiots. Who were going to have sex. Really, really soon.

“Should we order drinks?” she asked as they walked, their speed increasing with each step. “Champagne? Wine? Soda?”

“Wine? Do you like red? Although white would probably be better after vodka. Maybe we should just get some vodka.”

“I like red.” She pushed the elevator button three times, leaning into her thumb every time. “Besides, you’re a bourbon man. Bourbon men don’t drink vodka.”

“Who told you such obvious lies? Whoever it was should be banished from ever tasting another shot of Stoli. And he shouldn’t be able to look at a bottle of Elit.”

The elevator dinged and opened. Finally. A couple walked out, ignoring them completely. It was Jake’s turn to pull Rebecca inside.

“Then why did you order bourbon?” she asked.

He shrugged, astonished they were speaking in sentences when his brain and his body were one hundred percent focused on getting inside the goddamn room. “I like it.”

“Okay.” She pushed the button for the fifteenth floor. “What booze don’t you like?”

He couldn’t stand it, he pulled her until she was flush against him and he was staring down into her dark, wide eyes. “Boone’s Farm.”

She laughed as she pressed her breasts to his chest. He inhaled sharply at the feel of her, the reality of her. Then her hand, her right hand, slipped under his arm, around his waist and up his back. Without his permission, his hips jerked forward, his quickly hardening cock meeting the perfect resistance of her hip. Each floor they ascended felt like foreplay.

“What about you?” he asked, straining to pick up the thread of their conversation, although he was pretty sure if he started talking about pork belly futures neither of them would care. “Is there anything respectable you don’t like?”

“Tons of things. But I suppose you’re talking about liquor.” Her breath whispered against his jaw, and that hand on his back was moving in small circles, the hint of friction electric. “Oddly,” she said, her voice maybe half an octave lower than it had been a minute ago, “single malt Scotch whiskey. I know, it’s very girlie of me, but I hate it. What’s worse, I get very cranky when people get in my face about how superior it is. The age and what kind of barrel it was kept in. Which is ridiculous because I do the exact same thing with wine and champagne, so who the hell do I think I am? But there you have it. Completely irrational.”

“Good to know,” he said, now a few millimeters away from brushing his lips against hers. “I was going to seduce you with my knowledge of Glenlivet, but I won’t now. Pity. I know a lot about Glenlivet, and I’m incredibly charming when I add the personal anecdotes.”

“That’s okay,” she said, as they came to a smooth halt. “I already find you incredibly charming.”

He’d have kissed her right then, right as they stepped out of the elevator, but he wanted it private. Not that anyone was in the hall. It didn’t matter. He wasn’t going to do anything to this woman until he had her alone and there was a bed nearby. He checked the wall plaque and followed the arrows to room 1562, at the very end of the hall. They didn’t run, but they moved as quickly as his leg allowed.

She got the green light with her key card on the second try and he shoved the door open. His first impression of the room was that it was big for a Manhattan hotel and that it was very full with a sofa and chairs and coffee table, but it could have been the size of a pencil box and bright chartreuse and he wouldn’t have cared. It was theirs, and while there wasn’t a bed in front of him, there had to be one close. Rebecca walked in, but she didn’t get far.

As he slammed the door shut behind him, he gave her a spin, a sweet little twirl that set her back against the door with him blocking her path.

Her smile said she didn’t mind, and her lips parting as she raked his face with her very large eyes told him they were on the same page. She huffed softly as he slipped his hand behind her nape and his tongue in her mouth.

It was hot slick tongues and broken moans as they tried to get his coat off, both of them reaching at the same time. She scratched his wrist then shoved the coat off his shoulder while he was trying to remove the other side of the damn thing, and he twisted his shoulder in all the wrong ways.

He hissed as he drew back, hating his body so fucking much because he could be kissing her right now instead of this.

“I hurt you.”

“You didn’t. We did. I just have to be careful.” He threw his coat with force onto one of the big chairs, then took off his jacket, as well. He turned his head as he reached for his shirt buttons, but her fingers on top of his made him look.

“We can be careful.”

“It’s the scars. Left shoulder, right thigh. I can keep my T-shirt on, turn off the lights—”

She slipped the top button through the hole. “Don’t worry about my delicate sensibilities. I’m fine. As long as we can hurry up and get back to where we’re getting naked together.”

Scooping her into his arms, trapping her hands, he kissed her. Not that panic sloppy kissing, which was good, damn fine, but this was something else. This was a preview, a warning. He liked this part, and he was good at it. So he’d take it slow for the next few minutes, because soon, the moment he had that dress off her in fact, it was going to get crazy again. Messy, wet and hot, and while he couldn’t do everything he used to, he could do plenty.

Her moan was low as she tussled with his tongue. He moved his hands under her hair until he found the top of her dress, the zipper hidden inconveniently behind a fold of material, but he was using his dominant hand, not the one with the intermittent quaver, so no problem. His cock hardened as the zipper lowered until it hit bottom. The feel of her skin beneath his palms made him groan, but when she pushed her hips against his aching erection, he decided the lesson was over, and all bets were off.

He pulled back, not letting her have another chance with his shirt.

“Fine,” she said, chuckling, “be that way.” Then she took two steps away and lifted her dress over her head and let it flutter to the floor.

Jake choked. It took him a minute of coughing to get his act together, and when he did, and he looked at her again, he had to consciously remember how to breathe. “Holy God.”

“So you’re a La Perla fan?”

“I have no idea what a La Perla is, but I’m over the moon about your underwear.”

Her grin let him know she’d planned to knock him off his feet with the stunning bra and panties. Jesus, she was still wearing her heels, and the combination was enough to make a weaker man come without a touch.

The garments were sheerest white. Barely there, except for a small triangle that covered her pussy so he couldn’t tell what she was hiding. He didn’t give a damn. She could be hairy, bald as a cue ball or anything in between, it all worked as far as he was concerned. That he didn’t know even with all that flesh on display made him insane.

The opposite was true on top. There was nothing but that sheer, sheer white covering her stunning breasts. Hard little nipples in the center of pink areolas like iced cupcakes with cherries on top.

And while staring at her was a wet dream all its own, there was so much more to be done. He tugged his shirt out from his trousers, toed off his shoes, then his socks, and by the time he’d unbuttoned the shirt with his right hand, his left had undone his belt and was working on his zipper.

Rebecca was most definitely not helping. In fact, she was making it ridiculously harder to do this circus trick because whether she realized it or not, every move she made turned up the heat a notch. The sway of her hips as she took a single step, the roll of her shoulder, the shake of her head so her hair fluffed around her face. There wasn’t a thing about her that didn’t make him want to beg.

“You’re killing me,” he said, his voice as rough as sandpaper. He let his button-down fall, leaving him in his undershirt, and then his pants dropped and he kicked those out of the way.

Her gaze moved down to his thigh even as she ran her fingers over her bare tummy. Jake tensed as he waited for her verdict. She winced, but her hand didn’t stop moving. He relaxed. She wasn’t freaked out. His first date after had been, and he could never bring himself to blame her, but his gratitude that this woman hadn’t run for the hills knew no bounds.

“Are you going to just stand there staring?” she asked.

“I don’t know what to do first,” he said. “You’re stunning.”

For all that she was driving him wild, the hint of a blush that warmed her cheeks was almost more than he could bear. “That’s a pretty good place to start,” she said as she covered the distance between them. “But an even better place would be in the actual bedroom.”

He swung his arm around her neck and pulled her into a punishing kiss. His free hand went to the low line of her panties, the covered spot, and he slipped his fingers inside the material.

Ah. Not a full Brazilian then, but a landing strip. They needed to get to the bed before he came standing in his boxer briefs.

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