Kiss And Makeup

His arms came around her, pulling her closer. They both groaned at the full-body contact.

He kissed her again, licking into her mouth until he drew a sigh from her sweet pink lips. “You changed your makeup,” he said, and the pleased expression on her face made him glad he’d mentioned it.

“I’m surprised you noticed.”

“Well, in my defense, I’m a guy, so no pants trumps purple eye shadow every time. But that doesn’t mean I won’t get around to noticing how soft and pretty and touchable you look.” He reached up and tucked her hair behind her ear. “So different than the badass green and black from earlier.”

She tightened her grip on his neck, pulling him down for another kiss, and they were both panting when their lips parted again.

“I’ve wanted this since the moment we shook hands on the plane,” he confessed, kissing her jaw and running his fingers over smooth, warm skin and cool black satin.

“That’s pretty presumptuous, Masterson.” Despite her words, she tipped her head back so he could continue trailing kisses down her neck. He walked her backward to the bed.

“How is it presumptuous?”

“I just decided this was going to happen while I was in the shower. Sex definitely wasn’t on the table before that.”

“Sure it was,” he countered, placing her on the mattress. “Ask Spider.”

Chloe’s laugh was full and rich as she scooted up on the bed so she could recline on the pillows. “I can’t believe you just said that! I share my tragic past with you and you use it against me?”

He pulled off her socks. “Face it, Chloe. This was meant to be. The plane? The hotel mix-up? Fate’s practically begging us to have sex.”

Her smile was decadent. “I think you may have misunderstood the difference between fate and hormones.”

“No way. This is definitely fate.” Ben joined her on the bed. “I mean they don’t call it a layover for nothing.”

“Stop that,” she said with a breathy giggle that drove him wild. Ben was enchanted, no doubt about it. And very turned on. “Stop what?”

“Stop making me laugh.”

He kissed her collarbone. “Why?”

“Because one-night stands aren’t supposed to be funny, they’re supposed to be torrid and sexy and raw.”

“Oh, I can do torrid.”

* * *

COULDHEEVER.

His expression darkened seconds before he caught her mouth in a scorching, wet kiss that convinced her they were both wearing way too many clothes.

She reached for the buttons on his dress shirt, fumbling them open with lust-clumsy fingers. When she’d finally popped the last one, he rewarded her with a shift of his hips that brought their bodies into perfect alignment, and the pleasure that streaked through her made her gasp.

Damn he felt good. Hot and hard. Her fingers curled against his skin, and her hips bucked to get closer. He groaned, grinding harder against her, squeezing her breast with a large, warm hand. She wanted Ben, naked and panting, thrusting inside her until she couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe.

She couldn’t care less about her mother’s disappointment, or her sister’s wedding, or her exile in Chicago.

She felt alive. And sexy. And desperate for more.

She ran her palms across his beautiful shoulders and down his back. When she reached the waistband of his pants, she let her fingers follow the material around to his stomach and traced the reverse path, up his ridged abdomen and hair-roughened chest.

“Oh, God,” he rasped, pulling away a little, but she rose up, catching his mouth as she ran a thumb across his nipple, delighting in the shudder that quaked through him at her touch. “Chloe, stop for a second.”

“Make me,” she growled playfully, nipping his bottom lip, loving the way his muscles jumped at her touch. He groaned. “Jesus, you feel so good.” He kissed her back, hot and frantic, before tearing his mouth away again.

“Chloe, are you sure about this?”

Ben was staring down at her, hair mussed, eyes dark, looking like the answer to all her sexual frustrations. “I need this, Ben.” She was desperate to experience more of the buzzing current running between them, to block out the shitty stuff and lose herself with this man.

She might as well have said abracadabra, her words had such a magical effect on him. That last little bit of concern that had lingered disappeared in a wolfish grin. “I meant are you sure about the bed,” he lied. “Because I’d be happy to move this over to the table if you want to be able to tell a better story at the stagette.”

“I already missed the stagette,” she responded, pressing a kiss against his jaw, “and the family brunch,” she kissed his neck, “the reception for out-of-town guests,” the hollow of his throat, “the rehearsal,” his collarbone, “the rehearsal dinner—”

“Oh, okay, now who’s being funny? This bed is a joke-free zone, Masterson. Your rule, not mine.”

“You’re right,” she conceded. She leaned back and raised an eyebrow. “You’d better take off your clothes and get me on track again.”

His mouth hitched up at the corner in a devilish half smile. “Yeah, baby. I got your torrid right here,” he said, and her laughter betrayed her change of heart. Maybe funny did have its place in the bedroom after all.

Ben got to his feet and pulled his shirt the rest of the way off.

She’d never been into male strippers—way too cheesy for her taste—but watching Ben strip was a study in seduction. There was no teasing or coyness, just a man taking off his clothes.

And then, finally, he stood naked and aroused in front of her. All sinewy muscle and powerful limbs. And she wanted him. All of him.

“Your turn,” he said, his voice so low and raspy that she shivered.

Chloe pushed onto her knees, reaching behind her back to unhook her bra. She peeled the material away slowly and air rushed against her skin, doing nothing to cool the heat that raged inside her.

Then there was nothing left between them but her underwear. She tucked her thumbs into the waistband, inching them down her thighs. It was one of the sexiest moments of her life, revealing herself to him this way, and his predatory stare raised goose bumps on her skin.

“You’re so beautiful.”

And she believed him in that moment because she felt beautiful. Powerful. Tonight she was daring and sexy, an erotic fantasy. With a grin that was pure siren, she slipped her panties off the rest of the way and tossed them to the floor. “So what are you going to do about it?”

“Oh, I’ve got a couple of ideas,” he promised with a wicked smile. He grabbed protection from somewhere inside his suitcase. Chloe kept her eyes on him as he ripped into the package. She was surprised by how sexy it was, watching him handle himself, roll the condom down the length of his shaft.

She’d never really paid much attention to this part of the process before. She was usually too far inside her own head—How did she look? How did he think she looked? How could she make her boobs seem bigger and her stomach seem flatter?—to pay much attention.

She was paying attention now.

He was big, deliciously so.

She was all damp heat and wanting. When she licked her lips, he practically pounced on her, pressing her back into the mattress. Then he shifted and his erection was between her legs and it was so perfect having him there, just where she wanted him.

When he started circling his hips, applying more pressure, Chloe nearly cried out. “Deeper,” she whispered, burying her head in the crook of his neck. “Please.”