Chapter 2

2

I could beat him with my eyes closed. Growing up, we had a dartboard in our basement that I used to take my pent-up frustration out on, and when I was in college and living with Claude, we had a board in our flat for the same reason. Owen was right when he called me a hustler, and darts aren't my only game. So I could win this with the lights out.

But I won't.

He's too fucking hot for that.

Light brown hair, ultra-blue eyes, tall, broad, twin dimples, and smells like expensive cologne—the kind where the guy doesn't try to smell as good as he does… yum . I could eat him like candy for breakfast and not have an ounce of guilt for it. Plus, he was a little awkward at first—though that evaporated as fast as it was there—and looks at me like he doesn't know how to look away, which is cute and endearing and a definite turn-on.

Especially after the rock bottom hit my self-esteem took at the hands of my ex.

I could use a night of no-strings fun before the real world sets back in for me tomorrow when I meet my new boss and his daughter. Jack's flight was canceled, which means big brother can't step in and cockblock. The competitive queen in me cares that I'm going to throw the game. The lusty, I-haven't-had-sex-in-months-and-need-a-real-orgasm-not-delivered-by-a-silicone-boyfriend girl in me doesn't. Though my faith in men and partners has been brutally shaken, that's not what this is.

This is only tonight since that's all I've got the time or desire for, and he seems to be on the same page since he's talking hotel room and not his place or mine.

I step out of his embrace, and with my gaze still locked on his, I throw the darts blindly at the board. One. Two. Three. I have no idea where they landed, but judging by the dull thud , at least one hit the wall.

"Your turn."

His blue eyes smolder, and he drops the darts on the tall cocktail table on his right. "Fuck the game." In my next heartbeat, he snatches my hand, runs us back over to the bar, drops a hundred-dollar bill down on the counter even though I told him his drink was on me, and then runs us straight out the door before I can even so much as form a protest.

Not that I was planning on it.

I have pepper spray and my folding knife in my purse. A single girl can never be too careful. If he tries anything, I'll take him out, but I don't get the impression that's who this guy is. I wouldn't be here if I thought he was. He doesn't strike me as the type who would ever consider hurting a woman an option. He's an admitted gentleman, and I don't think that's a line or an act. After what I went through with Claude, I have a different eye and way of sizing men up, and this man isn't going to do anything other than give me a night of fun, and hopefully a hell of a lot of pleasure.

With my hand bound in his, he twirls me out onto the sidewalk, the warm Boston summer air hitting me in the best way.

"I've wanted to do this all night." In a flash, he has me pinned up against the wall of a neighboring building, his hands cradling my face and his mouth swallowing the gasp he forced from me. Warm and firm, his lips waste no time parting mine, his tongue immediately diving in. He groans when he gets a taste of me, his hands sliding up and back into my hair, holding my head and moving it how he wants so he can explore every inch of my mouth.

He's more controlling, more take charge than I had immediately pegged him to be, and I like it. He's also a hell of a lot taller than I am, and since I'm only wearing flip-flops, I climb up onto my tiptoes to snake my arms around his neck and kiss him back. He tastes like bourbon and something spicy and feels like everything wonderful and male I've been craving.

My hands slide down over his shoulders until I'm holding onto his strong, muscular upper arms. It gives me some extra leverage to pull him tighter against me and deepen the kiss. His tongue thrashes with mine, whipping me into a dizzying torrent of lust and desire.

"There's a hotel down the street," he pants against my lips. "You still with me?"

I fucking love that he checks. "I'm still with you."

His smile cracks straight across his lips, pressing into me and forcing one of my own.

Gripping my hand once more, he squeezes it, and then we're taking off down the street, too excited for bullshit chit-chat neither of us is the least bit interested in.

This isn't leading to anything beyond tonight, and we both know it.

The hotel lobby is bright and cheerful, if not a bit too modern for my taste. I prefer older, eclectic, and well, some real art on the walls instead of this mass-produced crap, but who cares? This isn't a Paris showroom. Owen excuses himself, choosing to head to the front desk alone, and I use that as my excuse to go to the ladies' room .

"Yeesh." I snicker when I get a good look at myself in the mirror. My hair is a tangled mess, and my lipstick is smeared halfway across my cheek. I give my reflection a long pause as I clean myself up. Jitters hit my gut—the fluttery, squishy kind that makes me feel both alive and nervous at the same time.

It's been a while since I've been with someone, and my last someone shook my confidence to my core. I finally feel ready, though. Ready to restart my life and all that comes with it. That's one of the reasons I moved back to the States. Well, my brother also moving back to Boston is another.

"You can do this," I tell myself. "Put that asshole behind you and go after what you want. You own this, not the other way around."

I readjust my strapless bra and give my hips a good wiggle to make sure my jeans fit me just so. I'm uneasy, and I hate that I am. I knew I'd feel this way, so it's no shock that it's hitting me now. The first time with a new person after the last one didn't end well isn't easy for anyone. But tonight is on my terms, under my conditions, and if I need to leave, I will.

With that mental declaration, I give myself a you've got this, bitch wink and head out of the restroom to find Owen standing against the wall, his eyes on his phone. He slips it into his pocket, and his gaze does a slow drag up my body until he meets my eyes. He flashes me a keycard and then extends his other hand for mine.

Without hesitation, I walk the three steps and take it. Maybe it's the way he's looking at me—like I'm the most beautiful woman he's ever seen and he's still nervous I'll say no—or maybe it's that he kisses with a possessive urgency but still asks if I want this too. I don't have a reason for it, but I feel safe with him, and I let my gut be my guiding force.

We reach the elevators, the doors open and waiting, and after we step on, he presses the button for fifteen, the top floor. The doors close, and the car shoots up. "I hope you don't have any plans tomorrow."

"Why's that?" I ask, suddenly apprehensive and hoping I didn't misread the situation between us.

He gives me a wicked smirk. "Because I plan to fuck you all night and leave you sore and exhausted."

Holy shit. Did he just say that? And why is it so fucking hot that it makes me instantly wet?

I glance up at him as the car slows and we reach our floor. "I do, actually, so I suppose I'll just have to suck it up and deal."

That smile grows and when the doors open, he yanks me into him, kissing me feverishly and walking me backward out of the car. His hands are all over me, tugging at my top and feeling every inch of my ass he can over my jeans. With a quick peek, he checks the placard on the wall that tells him which direction our room is in, and then he lifts me off my feet, forcing my legs around his waist.

His mouth doesn't leave mine, both of his hands now gripping and squeezing my ass as he devours me. His hard cock presses right against my center, and I hold tighter against him, wanting to feel more of him right where I need it.

Our room is the last one on the right, and he slams me into the wall right beside the door. Blindly, he reaches out, swipes the keycard against the lock, and misses once, then again before finally, on the third try, he snags it. The door snicks, followed by that mechanical unlocking sound. He adjusts me and uses one hand to open it, kicking it with his foot.

"Put me down," I tell him with a small laugh, but he shakes his head, kicks the door again so it swings wide, and then shoves us from the wall and straight into the dark room, only lit by the glow of the city outside the window. We don't make it far, barely passing the door before we're ripping at each other's clothes. My top lands on the nearby dresser, and one of my flip-flops hits the floor, quickly, followed by the other. I tear at his shirt a bit too eagerly, causing one of the buttons to go flying, making both of us laugh until urgency consumes us once again.

He shrugs off his shirt as my hands fumble for the button and fly of his pants, but he grows too impatient and spins us into another wall before we bounce onto the bed. For a moment, he stands over me, toeing off his shoes and raking in my messy appearance. And as he does, I return the favor, admiring the toned, strong lines of his tanned abs, chest, and shoulders.

I knew he had a great body. I could tell that even through his clothes but seeing him shirtless is something else.

Wordlessly, he crawls over me, kissing up my belly, over the swells of my breasts, and up to my neck. His fingers dig behind my back and unhook my bra with precision. The cups fall away from my tits, and he groans, pulling back and straddling my waist so he can take in the full picture of them.

"Fuck," he rasps, dragging a hand across his stubble-lined jaw. "Just… fuck. Look at you. You are so goddamn beautiful."

He cups my tits in his hands, lifting them, testing their weight, and giving them a firm squeeze that has me moaning and my head tilting back into the soft bed. My tits—especially my nipples—are more than a little sensitive. His thumbs drag over the stiff peaks, his smoldering gaze following the motion like a man so enthralled by what he sees that he can't force himself to look anywhere else. Hungrily, he licks his lips and dips his head to capture one nipple in his hot mouth, sucking it in deep and hard.

"Hell," I cry, raking my fingers up into the back of his hair and holding him there as he licks and sucks on my nipple and uses his teeth to scrape at my breast. My jeans are shoved roughly down my legs until they catch on my ankles, and I use my feet to finish kicking them off. Now that I'm only in my thong, he adjusts his position, using his knees to nudge my thighs apart as his mouth continues to eat at my chest .

Greedy for more, my hands run along his back and shoulders, my nails scraping across his bare chest to finish what I had started before with his pants. Deft fingers slip into the sides of my thong and shimmy it down as his face begins to chart the same course. His lips slither lower, his tongue swirling across my belly, tasting me, and fuck, please keep going, please keep going.

I must chant this aloud because he peers up at me through his lashes with a wicked smile that could make me come right now. He licks his lips and says, "I intend to."

That's it. And he makes good on that dirty promise as he kneels on the floor, pulls me to the edge of the bed, and spreads my thighs wide. For a half beat, he stares at my bare pussy before he slides an arm beneath my ass and lifts me to his mouth.

He doesn't bother kissing me.

There's no soft touch or introduction.

His entire mouth covers my pussy, and my hips involuntarily jerk in response. The tip of his tongue rings my opening, tasting me before diving straight in. My hand threads into his hair, holding on, because I have to fucking hold on as my eyes close and my vision sways. I don't know if it's from the alcohol buzzing through my system or the way his diabolical mouth eats me like a man starving, but I don't care.

His teeth graze my swollen clit before he pulls it between his lips and sucks, using the tip of his tongue to flick it over and over. But that's not even the best part. The sounds he makes as he eats me out, the way his hands grip my flesh, his blatant, unhinged desire. They're all so much—almost too much—and are making my body build and build faster than I can keep up with.

Two fingers slide straight inside my pussy and crook up until he's directly finger fucking that magic spot on my front wall. Liquid heat rolls between my legs and up through my limbs, and I just about lose my freaking mind. I prop myself up, desperate to see him, and find myself mesmerized by the powerful flex of his muscles, the bulge of his strong arms, and the ridges of his abs. His lips move against my center, wet and glistening in the dim light of the room from my arousal. And his eyes—they're just gone. Totally ransacked by pleasure and lust.

I swear, I've never seen a sexier sight than this in my life.

"Yes. Oh, god, yes. Don't stop."

"Do you like it when I touch you here?" he asks, running his finger in circles around my opening. "When I kiss you like this?" His mouth sucks and licks on my clit. "If you like getting fucked with my mouth and fingers, just wait till you feel my cock."

My limbs go weak . Fucking hell.

He increases the pressure, fucking me with his fingers over and over while sucking on my clit, and I come. So. Hard. All over his face as I rip at his hair. My back arches, and I moan so loudly I'm positive everyone in this hotel can hear me.

The moment my body starts to sag, he pulls away and I blink open my eyes, my chin dropping to find him licking his lips and then the two fingers he had inside me. He stands slowly like a predator, only I don't have an ounce of fear in me. I'm desperate with want. I want to feel his thick, hard cock inside me. I want him to pound me into next week. I want him to give it to me so good that I'm as exhausted and sore as he said I'd be.

He pulls out a small box of condoms from his pocket and tosses it on the bed. I raise a care-to-explain eyebrow. His lips curl, and he wipes his bottom lip with his thumb.

"I didn't have any in my wallet." He shrugs in an almost self-deprecating way. "I told you before, I don't do this very often. I bought them in the store off the lobby."

I love that. Like so goddamn much I can't even handle it .

"It's been a while for me too." I don't know why I told him that. Maybe it's his honesty provoking mine, or the fact that I'm suddenly a bit nervous again, but whatever it is, I want him to know.

"Good."

With his eyes on mine, he slides his pants and boxer briefs down until his long, thick cock springs free. My mouth instantly waters. His cock is fucking perfect. Opening the box of condoms, he pulls one out, puts the wrapper between his teeth, and then tears it open. I watch like a junkie about to get a fix as he rolls it on and then climbs back over me, his face hovering inches above mine, his eyes raw with need.

"I need to fuck you so hard right now. I can't handle how sexy you look like this."

His hand loops under one knee, slides it up to his shoulder, and without warning he plunges straight into me. My head throws back, and my eyes pinch shut as pleasure, hot and winding, tears a path through me. God, yes .

" Fuck, you feel good. And so goddamn tight," he pants, his head straining, the veins in his neck bulging as he holds himself still.

Christ. That's because he's so goddamn big . All of him. A blissed-out sigh passes my lips at how full I feel.

I start to wiggle and move, making his chest press down harder into me, squishing my tits beneath his honed muscles as if to say you don't get to control this , I do . He pulls out and then slams back in, making my lungs empty, and another moan flees my lips.

"You like that?" he rasps in my ear, his voice strained. "Does that feel good, sweet thing? It's about to feel so much fucking better."

"Do it. Fuck me. Fuck me so good, nothing else matters." Because that's exactly what I need. I want to be fucked hard. I want to come again. I want this man—a man I'll never see again—to wipe away all memories of the one before him.

His eyebrows draw together, and his lips part on a strong exhale. One that rattles me to my core. Especially with the way he starts pounding into me.

"You want it? You want it like this?"

"Yes. More. I want more. Everything you've got. All that you promised me. Give it to me, and don't stop."

His eyes meet mine, and he licks my neck, nipping on my jaw. His hands slide up from my ass to my hips, and he fucks into me ferociously, nailing into me in a way I've never been fucked before. Upping the ante as he bends me in half with one leg still tucked between us and draped over his shoulder.

He steals my breath. Robs my soul. Shakes my bones. But manages to leave my heart untouched and unscathed. It's so perfect, so fucking cathartic, I smile, rocking my hips up into his, meeting him thrust for thrust.

"Yeah. That's it," he says, almost to himself, his eyes locked between my thighs, enraptured by the sight. "So fucking good."

And with that, he drives into me harder and deeper and with more determination than before. He fucks me like a man possessed. So dark and rude and uncaring with how he claims me. My hands shoot above my head, my fists clutching the white fabric of the duvet and holding on for dear life. I shift my foot so it's on the edge of the bed, widening my thighs and taking him in even deeper.

His fingers dig into my hips, his cock continues to plunge, and I can't do anything other than hold on. He flattens himself against me, his naked chest pressed to mine, and he wraps his arms tightly around me, holding me close. Senseless words are murmured into my ear, his hot breath rushing against my skin in endless pants.

The friction of his body like this, the way he's taking me, hits my clit in the most perfect of ways, making me gasp and whimper and need like I've never needed before.

He can fuck me like this all night, and I'll never grow tired of being wrapped up in him—his sounds, his harsh breath, his scent—all consuming me.

"You're going to come for me," he demands as if the topic isn't up for negotiation. "All over my dick. And after that, I'm going to eat you out and fuck you again." He holds my body against his as he pumps and pumps, hitting my front wall and driving me up higher, to the point where I'm ready to break.

My hands fist up into the back of his head and I hold on, daring him with my eyes, hoping he's able to do just that.

His lips meet mine in a sloppy kiss, and something about the taste of him, the hint of bourbon and me still lingering on his tongue, how I've never had a one-night stand in my life, and how I'm fucking a total stranger I met a little more than an hour ago in a hotel room shoots me straight over the edge.

My body seizes, my pussy clenches, and a scream echoes off the walls before I realize it's mine. I don't say his name. That's too personal for me. But I come all over him as he said I would, and then I marvel at how seriously fucking hot he looks as he comes immediately after.

He collapses against me, heavy and suffocating in that really good way men seem to know how to do. His lips press into the soft space beneath my jaw, and then he pulls out of me, removes the condom, and heads to the bathroom to dispose of it.

The room is silent, the space between us a bit awkward, but before I can let that sink in, he's back and ready to start all over again, and all I can think is, thank God, I don't have to be anywhere important until tomorrow afternoon.