Chapter 18
KRISTA
I’d made a lot of questionable decisions in my life.
Joining the military when I was barely eighteen.
Taking that logistics contract in Yemen that nearly got me killed.
Cutting my hair short because it was practical when I first joined the military.
I had decided five minutes after it happened I would never do that again.
But kissing Dash Blackwell and then following him into his hotel room? That might have been the most reckless thing I’d ever done.
The door was barely closed when he practically pounced on me. His mouth slammed against mine with such force it nearly knocked me off my feet. I grabbed fistfuls of his shirt to keep myself upright. He walked me backward until my shoulders hit the wall.
“Fuck,” he breathed against my lips.
I couldn’t form words. My brain had short-circuited somewhere between the elevator and this moment.
All I could do was feel. His hands were in my hair, pulling it free from the ponytail.
My hair tumbled down around my shoulders.
He groaned like it was the most erotic thing he’d ever seen. I rarely let my hair down.
“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that,” he said.
His fingers threaded through the strands, tugging gently. I sighed with the relief of my hair being released and the pleasure of his fingers sending shivers through me. When had I become this person? This woman who made desperate noises while a man kissed her senseless?
I tugged at his shirt, needing it off. I wanted my hands on all that bare skin.
I’d been fantasizing about touching him since Athens.
He pulled back just long enough to yank it over his head and toss it somewhere behind him.
And there it was. That ridiculous, sculpted chest that was too good to be true.
I ran my hands over it, feeling the hard planes, the heat of his skin.
His muscles rippled as he sucked in a breath.
“Your turn,” he said, his voice rough.
My fingers went to the hem of my tank top. I hesitated for just a second. This was it. The point of no return. Once I took this off, there was no pretending this was just a kiss that got out of hand.
Dash’s hands covered mine. “We can stop,” he said quietly. “If you want.”
I didn’t want to stop. I wanted this more than I’d wanted anything in years. I pulled my tank top off and dropped it on the floor next to his shirt.
I watched his eyes travel down, taking in the plain white cotton bra I was wearing.
It was practical. Unsexy. The kind of thing you wore when you weren’t expecting anyone to see it.
I felt a flash of embarrassment. The bra was utilitarian.
It kept my breasts supported without all the frilly lace and satin.
“Jesus,” he breathed.
“It’s bad. I know.”
“No way. You’re beautiful.”
The way he said it, with such raw honesty, made me believe him. No one had called me beautiful in years. Hell, no one had seen me in my underwear in years.
He kissed me again, slower this time but no less intense.
His hands moved to my waist, sliding up my sides, making me shiver.
I fumbled with the button on his pants, my fingers clumsy with need.
He helped me, unfastening it and pushing his pants down.
They pooled at his ankles before he kicked his shoes off and kicked the pants away.
We stumbled toward the bed, a tangle of limbs and desperate kisses. I pushed him down onto the mattress. He pulled me with him. I landed on top of him, straddling his hips, and felt exactly how much he wanted this. How much he wanted me.
“Fuck,” he groaned again.
I kissed him, taking control, setting the pace. This was familiar territory. Being in charge. Making the decisions. I knew how to do this.
His hands moved to my hips, then slid up my back to the clasp of my boring bra. He paused, giving me a chance to stop him. I didn’t. He unhooked it. I sat back, letting it fall away, suddenly hyperaware that I was topless in front of Dash Blackwell.
The look on his face made every insecurity I’d ever had evaporate.
“You’re staring,” I said.
“It would be rude not to.” He sat up and wrapped his arms around my waist. Then he kissed my collarbone and up to my neck before sliding his tongue lower. When his mouth found my breast, I gasped. My hands went to his hair, holding him there, not wanting him to stop. Ever.
But then his hands were on my hips, and he was rolling us over, reversing our positions. Suddenly he was on top, looking down at me with dark eyes full of intent.
“My turn,” he said.
My body tensed. Giving up control wasn’t something I did. Ever. In any situation. I needed to be the one calling the shots, the one in charge. It was how I survived.
Dash must have felt my hesitation because he paused. “Talk to me.”
“I don’t do this.”
“Have sex? Oh my God, is this your first time?”
“No,” I said quickly. “I don’t let someone else…” I gestured vaguely between us.
Understanding dawned on his face. “You don’t let go.”
“I can’t.”
“Yes, you can.” He kissed me softly. “I’ve got you. I promise.”
I wanted to believe him. Wanted to trust that I could give up control for just this one night and not lose myself completely. But it was terrifying.
“Krista.” He cupped my face in his hands, forcing me to look at him. “Do you trust me?”
Did I? This man who’d driven me crazy for days with his irresponsibility and his charm and his complete disregard for schedules? Did I trust him?
“Yes,” I whispered, surprising myself with the honesty of it.
“Then let me take care of you.”
I closed my eyes and forced myself to relax. I stopped trying to direct what happened next. It went against every instinct I had, but I did it. I wanted to know what it was like to be a normal woman. The second I surrendered, everything changed.
Dash kissed me again, taking his time, exploring my mouth with a thoroughness that made me dizzy.
His hands moved over my body, learning what made me gasp and how to make me arch into his touch.
He kissed down my neck, my collarbone, and then feasted on my breasts like a man starving. And then he moved lower.
Heat spiraled through my body in a slow, lazy swirling sensation. Every nerve ending was on fire. When his hand slipped into the waistband of my shorts, I nearly came off the bed.
“Easy,” he murmured against my skin. “I’ve got you.”
He unfastened my shorts and slid them down my legs, tossing them aside. I was left in just my cotton underwear. Thank God they didn’t quite fit into granny panty territory, but they were close. The way he looked at me made me feel like I was wearing the finest lingerie money could buy.
“Beautiful,” he said again.
His hand moved over my stomach, my hip, the inside of my thigh. I was trembling now, my breath coming in short gasps. When his fingers finally found the damp cotton between my legs, I couldn’t stop the moan that escaped.
“That’s it,” he said. “Let me hear you.”
He stroked me through the fabric, slow and deliberate, building the pressure until I was squirming beneath him. Then his hand slipped inside my underwear and touched me directly. I saw stars.
I grabbed his shoulders, needing something to anchor me. This was too much. Too intense. I’d never felt anything like this before. Every other sexual experience I had paled in comparison to what Dash was doing to me right now.
And he wasn’t even naked. I wasn’t sure I would survive him. But I was certainly willing to try.
“Look at me,” he commanded.
I forced my eyes open. He was watching me with an intensity that should have made me uncomfortable but instead made everything more intense. I couldn’t look away.
His finger slid inside me, and he found all the right spots that made my hips buck off the bed. He added pressure, changed the angle, and suddenly I was right there on the edge.
“Dash,” I gasped.
“I know. Let go.”
The orgasm hit me like a freight train. I cried out, my body arching, my hands clutching at him desperately.
Wave after wave of pleasure crashed through me, more intense than anything I’d ever experienced.
I was certain I blacked out for a few seconds.
He worked me through it, drawing it out until I was boneless and trembling beneath him.
When I finally came back to myself, I realized I was crying. Not sobbing, just tears streaming down my face. I was embarrassed until I saw the look on Dash’s face. He wasn’t laughing or looking smug. He looked at me kindly.
“You okay?” he asked softly.
I nodded slightly. “Yeah.”
He kissed me gently, sweetly, then rolled onto his side next to me. I could feel how hard he was, pressing against my hip through his boxer briefs. He wanted more. I wanted more. But something made me pause.
I was buzzed. Not drunk but I’d had three drinks. The wine was making everything feel soft and dreamy. And we were on a business trip. I was his logistics consultant. This was wildly inappropriate.
“We should stop,” I said quietly.
I felt him tense beside me. “Yeah, we should.”
I was horrible. I couldn’t leave him like this. I reached for the erection straining against the boxer briefs. His hand closed over mine.
“No. We’re stopping.”
I shook my head. “But it’s not fair for you.”
Dash chuckled and looked at me fondly. “It’s not about fairness. And I can wait.”
“Wait?”
“Until we’re sober and this is less complicated.”
I pulled my hand away. That took a great deal of strength because after getting a taste, I wanted more.
He sat up, running a hand through his disheveled hair. “I want you. God, I want you. But I want you to be sure. I want you to not have any regrets in the morning.”
I looked at the man that I was seeing with fresh eyes. This was the Dash his family didn’t see. The one who could be thoughtful and careful when it mattered.
“Thank you,” I said.
He stood up and walked to the closet, pulling out two hotel robes.
He handed one to me. I sat up and pulled it on, grateful for the coverage.
Now that the heat of the moment was dissipating, I was feeling exposed.
He put on the other robe and we stood there for a moment, neither of us quite sure what to do next.
“I should go,” I said finally.
Dash nodded. “That’s probably safer.”
I picked up my scattered clothes and shoes. He walked me to the door. When he opened it, the bright hallway lights made me squint. My room was right across the hall, maybe ten feet away. It felt like miles.
“Goodnight, Krista,” he said.
“Goodnight, Dash.”
I started to turn away but he caught my hand. When I looked back, he pulled me close and kissed me one more time. It was soft and sweet and full of promise.
“Sleep well,” he murmured, releasing me.
I somehow made my legs work well enough to carry me across the hall. I fumbled with my key card, finally got the door open, and slipped inside. The second it clicked shut behind me, I leaned back against it and closed my eyes.
What the hell had I just done?
I touched my lips, still feeling the ghost of his kiss. My body was still humming with residual pleasure. I could still smell him on my skin. Feel him on my body.
I was in deep shit.
I’d spent my entire adult life keeping men at arm’s length. Being one of the boys. Making myself invisible so I could move through life without worrying about romance. Romance made people do stupid shit. I couldn’t afford to deal with broken hearts and drama.
No way could I catch feelings for a billionaire playboy.