Chapter 4
Chapter Four
DK
Idon’t usually let down my guard this fast or jump into bed with a stranger. Though Luna doesn’t feel like one. That explains why I gave her the nickname only used by those closest to me.
It takes two elevators to get from the bar to the lobby, then up to the seventh floor. Aware that her need for discretion is important, I resist making any advances while we’re in a public space. Not that anyone is in the hall, but I still want to wait until we’re alone.
“Room 702,” she says, taking the key fob out of her purse.
We check the wall plaque and follow the arrows to the very end of the hall. A corner suite. Luna gets the green light, and I push the door open. There’s a small living area—couch, armchair, desk, and TV. The bed must be in another room, but I’m not in a rush.
Her heels click across the floor, matching the tempo of my pulse.
“Make yourself comfortable while I freshen up,” she says. “I won’t be long.”
“Take your time.”
She smiles, then disappears into what must be the bedroom. I shrug out of my blazer and lay it across the arm of the sofa.
The last time I had a one-night stand was a year ago while I was working in Maryland on a zoning project. It was impersonal and devoid of any real connection. Sex doesn’t have to be deep, but it has to be something. I know it’s going to be different this time—better—with Luna. It already is.
I grab a mini water bottle off the desk and guzzle it down. That’s when the bedroom door opens, and Luna appears, lighting up the threshold… and everything in me.
She’s changed into a dark-cherry robe. Satin, floor-length, cinched at the waist. It parts, flashing a soft, plump leg.
I set down the bottle. “You look exceptional.”
“I was hoping to wow you.”
“You exceeded wow long ago.”
Luna steps to me, satin whispering against her skin, and laces our fingers. I give her a little spin that lands her back against the wall.
“Ooh.” She startles, but the glint in her eyes tells me she doesn’t mind.
I angle my body in front of hers. Not touching. Just close enough to feel the hum between us.
Luna slips my glasses off and puts them on the desk. Happy to let her take the lead—for now—I remain still, except for the quick rise and fall of my chest. She lifts into me, one hand cupping the back of my neck, her warm breath brushing my lips. “I’ve wanted to do this all night.”
Then she kisses me. I mean, kisses me. Not slow.
Not tentative. Her fingers rake through my hair, gripping the crown.
Her mouth is hot and frantic. I catch up fast, learning her taste, the scent of her skin—exotic, dark, floral.
My hands fill with her hips, the material cool against the warm softness of her body.
We kiss like we’ve been starving, like our mouths are an endless feast. I devour her breaths, her tongue, the little moans that break into desperate sighs—each one turning my need primal. I run my hands over her back and up to cradle her face, angling it how I want to get even deeper.
She writhes against my dick and reaches for my shirt buttons with impatient fingers. I trap her wrists and bring them above her head, holding them there. Because if our kiss is this explosive, once we get naked, we’re going to blow the fucking roof off.
I want that. But I want this first. The press of our clothed bodies, straining. The tussle of our tongues. I want to make it last, imprint every detail to pull from later, when Luna will be a sweet, searing memory.
Whether five minutes or fifty, we finally come up for air. Her eyes flicker open. Glazed. Aroused.
My lips drag down her neck, nibbling, sucking at the white patch there. Her moans spill out, tiny hitches threaded with ache.
“Tell me what you want, Luna. What you need.”
“You. In my bed.”
Message received. I lower her hands and kiss her wrists, then lead her into the bedroom. A sprawling king dominates the space, a floor lamp casting a golden glow over it.
“I’m dying to see what you look like,” Luna says, tugging my shirt free from my pants.
Insecurity awakens—lived-in and unpolished. I don’t have a six-pack. My workout routine keeps me fit, but no amount of exercise flattens my stomach. “I hope you won’t be disappointed.”
“Impossible.” Her fingers open the buttons one by one.
I resist the urge to suck in my gut as she spreads her palms over my bare torso—the undefined pecs, the roundness of my stomach, softly squeezing the sides folding over the waistband of my pants.
“I’m not the least bit disappointed,” she murmurs, sliding the shirt off my shoulders. “I love the way you’re built.” She kneads my biceps. “Strong. Thick. Soft in some places, solid in others. It’s like comfort and sin in the same body.” Her gaze lifts to mine. “That turns me on.”
Not a passive compliment meant to appease. Her tone is genuine, her touch reverent, her eyes hungry.
“I want to see more of you too.”
“I’ve had my own share of insecurities,” she confesses. “I’m fat. I have vitiligo. I used to hide. I don’t anymore.”
Her hands leave me as she reaches to undo the knot of her robe, letting it slink to the floor. “This is me.”
My eyes damn near pop out of my head. The bra and panty set is the thinnest of black sheer. Barely there, except for rhinestones concealing her peaked nipples and the triangle covering her pussy. And she’s still in those killer heels.
But it’s her body that wrecks me. Hip grips. Cleavage like two generous scoops. A pillowy-soft belly and dimpled thighs. A body made to be held, squeezed. Ravished.
I let her read the desire in my eyes before I speak. “You’re beautiful, Luna. Every curve, every patch, every inch of you is a privilege to look at… to touch.”
My fingertips trace the plush give of her stomach, slow enough to make it quiver. Everything else burns away.
“I want you,” I say, kissing the white patch on her chest, then the one around her mouth. “All of you. Lights on. No hiding. I don’t want to miss a thing.”