2. What Am I Doing?
TWO
WHAT AM I DOING?
Eve
After changing my flight—thanks Pax for paying for my ticket. I won’t see you in Knoxville—I stick to my original plan—a drink. Turning off the ignition, I push the car door open. My heels click against the smooth pavement as I hoof it across the parking lot and toward the resort. As I pass by the pool the moonlight ricochets over the rippling water, almost blinding me. What was I thinking sleeping with my boss? My life isn’t a romance book. There is no happy ending. I blow out a deep breath. The clattering of my heels against the hard cement echoes between the buildings.
“Eve! Wait up!”
Pax’s voice grates on my nerves. I glance over my shoulder, and he’s rounding the edge of the far building, jogging toward me. If he thinks I’m stopping, he’s a bigger idiot than I thought. I quicken my pace. Now is a good time to test out my ability to run in heels. Several feet ahead of me, I spot the main bar. Vacationers crowd the entire bar, occupying all the seats. I slip past a few people. Since Pax has spotted me, there’s no way I’m stopping here. I’ll lose him in the crowd. I sidestep through the jungle of people and emerge on the other side. Without looking back, I race down the sidewalk and zigzag between buildings until a smaller bar comes into view. Edison lights swoop over a wood deck as a woman in a white dress twirls around on the dance floor. Crashing a wedding wasn’t on my BINGO card, but I guess I’m stamping a red dot on that tonight.
“Eve!”
My name rolls over the crowd, smacking me upside the head. Peering over my shoulder, I spot Pax hot on my heels. Do I have to drown myself in the Gulf to lose him? I’m seconds away from hurdling the railing and sprinting across the sand. It might be the easiest way to ditch him. I pause, eyeing the railing before my gaze drifts down to my three-inch pumps. Heels and sand don’t mix. I huff. After dodging a few wedding guests and ducking past a few more, I find a stool at the dark end of the bar. I pray the guy in black slacks and a white button-down with the sleeves rolled up, exposing colorful ink, will shield me. Glancing past the random stranger, I catch sight of Pax. He scans the dance floor and I hold my breath as he spins toward me. I dart my gaze to the left and come to an immediate stop on my bar mate. Dark irises stare back at me in bewilderment as if I were a Pomeranian, wearing a tutu, riding a unicycle.
“Can I buy you a drink?”
His deep voice snaps me back to reality. I drop my gaze to his left hand resting on the bar. There’s not a ring on his finger, and he’s asking to buy me a drink. He must be single. But maybe my judgment isn’t always the best, considering my last situation.
“Eve!” Pax’s voice carries through the crowd.
I need Pax to fall in a hole and for the tide to bury him. I’m done with him and his sleazy ways. My hands slide up the smooth fabric covering the stranger’s thighs. “You’re not married, are you?”
His brows pinch together. “Um. No.”
Relief washes over me. In the softest, smoothest, sexiest voice I can muster, I whisper, “Good. In that case, I’d rather have some of yours.”
The corner of his lips twitch into a smile, and I give him one of my own. This guy has barely said two words to me, yet I find him oddly charming. At this point, I’d find a rat lugging around a slice of pizza charming compared to the dumbass in the crowd who doesn’t get the hint.
“Eve!”
I’ll have to double my efforts to make him jealous. Engulfing the stranger in a hug around his neck, my fingers play with the short hairs on the back of his head, and I fuse my mouth to his. Shifting my weight to the side, I peer around the stranger’s head, and sure enough, Pax’s beady glare is aimed at us. His jaw clenches. Nostrils flare. Fuck you, Pax. A guy who appears to be a security guard steps in front of Pax. Before I know what happens next, a hand on my lower back draws my attention to the man, tugging me closer to him. His bulge presses against the apex of my thighs—and holy shit. Forget one tube sock. He must be using the entire ten-pack in his slacks. I moan into his mouth, and he takes that as his opportunity to swipe his tongue across the seam of my lips. What’s-his-nuts is quickly forgotten, my attention fully on the hot guy with his tongue in my mouth. Our tongues caress each other, soft and erotic. With every stroke, I inch closer to him, needing to feel more of him because it’s unlike anything I’ve ever felt. It’s warm and inviting and turns me on more than it should. My nipples pebble against the fabric of my dress. I break our kiss. My lashes flutter open and I’m met with deep sapphire eyes with shimmers of gray swirling in his irises. I’m drunk on them alone.
“Do you want to get out of here?” My words come out soft and breathy.
“Should we exchange names or something first?”
I lift a brow. I’ve heard my name enough thanks to the douche canoe. “Are names necessary?”
He shrugs. “How will you know what to moan later?”
A soft giggle escapes me. Oddly, I’m intrigued by his cocky charm. “How about this?” I drag the tip of my finger down his chest. “I’ll be Kat,” when I reach the waistband of his slacks, I nibble on my bottom lip, slowly releasing it, “and you can be Patrick.” It’s one of my all-time favorite movies. Plus, he’s giving me Patrick vibes that would make my panties instantly wet—if I was wearing any.
He clears his throat. “Now that’s established, where are we going?”
I sink my teeth into my bottom lip. My plan wasn’t to come down here and hook up, but Patrick has my vagina in a chokehold. Plus, I could use the distraction. “Where’s your room?”
He pushes his stool away and rises to his feet. Even at five feet eight inches on top of three-inch heels, I’m still a couple of inches shorter than him. With a hand on my lower back, he escorts me through the crowd of people. His thumb softly brushes back and forth, shooting tingles through my body. A simple touch shouldn’t cause my nipples to pebble. As we move through the sea of people, I scan all the faces as inconspicuously as I can. I exhale in relief when I don’t find Pax. Security must have done their job.
Once we’re away from the crowd, the music and chatter slowly blend into the sound of the waves crashing onto the shore. I spin out of his grasp and move in front of him. While walking backward, I drag my hand down his hard chest. As seconds pass, I get more adventurous and inch my fingers farther south until I graze the side of his cock. Holy shit! He’s huge, and there is no way he’s fully erect. But I want to find out. I throw my arms around his neck. His footing falters, but he quickly recovers and wraps an arm around me to help regain his balance. While I kiss his neck, inhaling the crisp sandalwood of his cologne, his hand roams down my waist until his fingertips graze the curve of my ass. The touch sends goosebumps springing up over my entire body.
When we finally reach his hotel room door, I’m no longer thinking about how shitty the last sixty minutes of my life have been but instead how much I want this hot guy in front of me. I slide my lips along his jaw while I hook my fingers under the waistband of his slacks. My body is on the verge of spontaneously combusting. While I’ve always been a sexual person, it’s never felt like this before. It’s like someone has a voodoo doll of me, and instead of sticking me with pins, they’re rubbing me in all the right places.
My irritation increases as he fumbles with his keycard. I almost rip it from his hands and do it myself, but it finally flashes green. He pushes it open and once inside, he spins us around. My back hits the door with a soft thud. Without missing a beat, his lips are on mine in a searing hot kiss. Tingles catapult through my entire body. I moan into his mouth as he slides his hand down my leg until he reaches my knee. His fingers mark my skin as he lifts, hiking my leg over his hip. Another greedy moan escapes me as he thrusts his hard erection against me. If he’s trying to turn me on, he’s already there. Foreplay isn’t necessary. The fore is already well played. I grip his wrist, pulling his hand off my leg. He breaks our kiss. His brows pinch together, unsure if I want him to stop. The answer is no. I need him to speed things up. My lips tip up into a smile as I slide his hand under my dress. I suck in a sharp breath when his fingers graze my bare pussy. His lips crash to mine. Hot and demanding. The pad of his finger slides through my wetness, and I moan into his mouth. I gyrate against his hand, needing anything and everything he’ll give me. It’s the sexy voodoo doll again.
My head falls back against the door. “Oh! Yes! Patrick! Use your fingers. Fuck me.”
His strokes falter, but he quickly recovers and fills me with two fingers.
“Ahhh! Yes! More!”
He continues to thrust into me, harder and harder with each pump. The palm of his hand rubs against my clit. I’m seconds away from exploding around him. Like a professional finger banger, he spears and scissors his fingers inside me. A finger bang should not feel better than sex, but somehow, he’s doing it. He presses his lips to my neck, nipping and sucking.
A shiver jolts up my spine. Stars burst behind my eyelids, and my orgasm rips through me. “Oh. Oh. Yes!” My mouth falls open on a gasp. Slowly, my eyes flutter open, and I’m met with lust-filled eyes staring back at me.
He removes his hand from under my dress, and my leg drops to the floor. Lifting his hand to his mouth, he spreads my orgasm over his bottom lip before sticking his fingers in his mouth. I’m mesmerized by the way his tongue swirls around his fingers as he enjoys the taste of me. He releases his fingers with a pop.
“Fucking delicious.”
My gaze drops to his cock, tenting his slacks, and I back up. “Do you have a condom?”
“No. But I can get one.”
“I suggest, if you want to keep the party going, you do that.”
His hands grip my hips, pulling me away from the door. I can’t help the giggle that escapes me. He slams his mouth to mine in a fervent kiss before he opens the door and closes it behind him. The taste of myself lingers on his lips. It’s erotic.
I press my fingers to my lips and blow out a deep breath. Strolling to the other side of the room, I sit on the edge of the bed. I’m going to have sex with this sexy stranger… right after my boyfriend told me he’s married. What am I doing? Hot sex—or what I’m assuming would be hot sex based on the earlier orgasm—with a stranger will not fix anything. It’ll be fleeting. In the end, it’s only a band-aid on an amputated limb. And I certainly don’t have enough band-aids to stop the bleeding. Ugh! I just need to leave and figure out my life… again. I jump to my feet and walk to the other side of the room. With my hand on the door handle, I glance over my shoulder. “Goodbye, Patrick. It was fun while it lasted.” I lower the handle and poke my head through the crack. Once I confirm the hallway is empty, I slink out the door, down the corridor, and disappear into the stairwell.