Her Secret Thrill

She would have been shocked by the realization—she was definitely one for equal partnerships—but she was too busy reeling from the feel of his tongue invading her mouth.

He didn’t push or shove. He enticed. Goaded. Teased. Twined. Made her want to do the same. So she did.

There was a sudden clearing of throats.

Natalie jerked her head up to find two elderly men staring at them. The lobby stretched out behind them. They’d apparently gone back down. She’d forgotten they were even in the elevator.

Her cheeks warmed. Jake caught her eye and winked, then tugged her out of the elevator. “You take this one, gentlemen. We’ll catch another one.”

Natalie was going to tell him that wasn’t necessary. In fact, she might have enjoyed making the old codgers squirm a little bit on the ride back up. But the idea that maybe there was a little voyeur down deep inside her, after all, surprised her so much, she missed her chance.

Jake pushed the button on the opposite wall, got them into that elevator and gently backed her to one side. “You stand here.” He moved away, pushed for their floor and stood against the opposite wall. At her questioning look, he grinned and said, “Just ensuring we make it to the room this time.”

She laughed, but as the elevator jolted upward, their smiles slowly faded. They stood on opposite sides of the small car, gazes fixed on each other.

Natalie felt her entire body come alive as he very deliberately let his gaze roam over her. When he met her eyes once again, she found herself slowly, shockingly, running her tongue over her lips. When she saw his throat visibly work, she grew bold enough to slowly allow her own gaze to travel over his wide shoulders, deep chest, narrower waist, down his long legs…and back up again. Stopping very deliberately for one extended moment at the juncture between them. Then she gazed directly at his eyes. And licked her lips again.

This time he was ready. His grin was slow, his eyes hot…and demanding. His hands had been pressed to the wall behind him, but now they slid over his thighs…and rested on the zipper of his pants.

Her eyes widened at the very primal, direct gesture, and her knees went a bit weak. She’d never thought about watching a man stroke himself. Ever. It simply wasn’t part of her sexual experience. But damn if she didn’t want to add it in. Right now.

She looked to his eyes and saw a taunting there. Was he daring her? Did he want her to ask him?

She looked back to his hands, but they just stayed there, resting over the bulge she knew very well was behind them.

The elevator stopped and the doors slid open. Her breath came out in one long sigh. But there was more frustration in it than relief.

He reached for her hand, she lifted hers to his. She was half wondering if he was going to direct it to his fly, but he folded his fingers between hers and pulled her out of the elevator into the hallway. He checked his room key, then the signs, and headed down the hall with her in tow.

She liked his long-legged stride, liked the way he kept looking down at her with such heat in his eyes.

Suddenly he tugged her against him and ducked into the little vending machine alcove.

“You’re driving me crazy,” he murmured against her mouth just before taking it again.

Natalie thrilled to the way he simply took her. But while his kiss was demanding, it was also generous. He gave…aggressively.

When he pulled back, they were both breathing heavily. “I could climb right out of my skin, I want you so badly.”

The rush of pleasure his roughly spoken words sent through her was so intense, it was all she could do to nod in agreement.

He wrapped her against him, then finally swore and left the alcove. “I’m going to embarrass myself completely if I don’t get you in that room right now.”

Natalie decided right then that groping and tearing had its moments, too. She was itching to pull off every stitch he had on.

He fumbled the key card into the slot, repeating the motion three times before they finally got the door open.

Natalie didn’t even pay attention to the lovely little room or the original antique furnishings. In fact, if he hadn’t been as hot to get to her as she was to get to him, she’d have been appalled at her greedy behavior.

He slid off his jacket, yanking the bag from the drugstore out of the pocket and tossing it on the bed before tossing the jacket in the general vicinity of the closet. But just when Natalie thought—hoped—he’d drag her to him and thoroughly ravish her, he stilled, drew in a deep breath, then laughed lightly, rubbing a hand over his face.

“I wasn’t like this even when I was sixteen.” He looked at her with an adorably wry smile. “I guess my lack of finesse is showing here. Once a cowboy, always a cowboy.”

“I’m not finding anything lacking.” Natalie took a breath herself. “Except that we’re still clothed.”

He grinned. “Where have you been all my life?”

She laughed and let him guide her to the bed. She loved the heady mixture of laughter and passion that accompanied them so easily. Why wasn’t it always this easy?

She knew why. Because there were no expectations here. No public aspect to this. Nothing to worry about beyond right this moment. She could be anyone. Do anything. And it would be just between them. No explanations. No apologies.

If she hadn’t already been intoxicated by the possibilities, looking into his eyes now as he tugged his shirt out of his pants had her almost drunk and reeling with them. No apologies. No regrets.

She unhooked the neck of her tunic, let it fall to her waist and stood bare-breasted before him. She was not particularly well endowed, but she’d always thought that what she had measured up all right. The leap of desire she caught in his eyes erased any other concerns she might have had. The fact that she willingly stood there boldly before him was as arousing to her as it apparently was to him.

He removed his shirt, and she forgot all about her own nudity. Dear Lord, he was even more impressive than she’d imagined. His chest was broad and well muscled with a light swirl of hair across his pecs. His stomach was flat, his waist lean. She wanted to slide her hands in the waistband of his pants and shove them down. Her fingers curled inward against the need to follow through on that desire.

“What do you want?” He looked from her closed fists to her eyes.

He never missed anything. “I want to see the rest of you. You’re truly beautiful.”

Surprisingly, a little heat bloomed in his cheeks. She laughed. “Surely I’m not the first to tell you that. You do own a mirror or two.”

He smiled and gave a disarming little shrug. “It wasn’t what you said, it was how you said it.” He lifted one of those fists, opened it and kissed her palm. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” she said, very unsteadily. He was simply too perfect. And he was hers. At least for the next couple of hours.

The grin was back, along with a wink as he placed her hand on his waistband. “You strike me as a woman who has no problem going after what she wants. So go ahead. Take what you want.”

She looked into his eyes, saw that he was serious and said, “I think I just might do that.”

“Please.”

She grinned and flicked open the silver button of his jeans, then tugged down his zipper. It was a bit challenging as it was currently being stretched rather beyond its intended usage. She paused halfway down. “I don’t want to— I’m afraid I’ll—” She stopped, then laughed lightly when his hands covered hers. “So much for being the bold, daring, take-what-she-wants type.”

“I thought you were doing just fine.” His voice was hoarse and a little strained. Natalie looked up into his eyes and found such dark desire there, her smile faded away. He tugged on her hand, and she looked back down as he finished unzipping. He moved her hands to his hips, urging her to shove his pants down. She did. He kicked out of his shoes and socks, sending the pants after them.

“Briefs,” she murmured. Black ones. Bikini style. She gulped as he took her hands again. She wasn’t ready, not yet. Well, she was, she was all but salivating. But not yet. Instead she moved his hands to her hips.

It wasn’t until he began peeling the skin-like pants off her that she remembered she had nothing on beneath. He didn’t seem to mind. Neither did she, as it turned out.

She went to step out of her heels, but he said, “Leave them on.”

She darted a look to his eyes, but complied. As it was, he was about four inches taller. Without the heels, it would be about half a foot difference. She figured it wouldn’t hurt to minimize the difference, at least while they were standing.

Then he said, “Walk over to that chair.” It wasn’t a command, more a request.

Still, she was surprised by it. “Why?”