CHAPTER 2
Claire
By the time they reached the penthouse door, Claire thought the energy between them would spark some sort of spontaneous combustion.
He passed her the bottle of Dom and pulled a key card out of his wallet, where she tried, and failed, to unsee him palming and pocketing the distinctive gold foil packet of a Trojan Magnum condom. She shuddered. As if he weren’t hot enough, apparently, he needed an XL.
She eyed the key card in his hand. “How did you manage that?” He’d bypassed the reception desk and taken her straight up in a private elevator.
“I am a man of many secrets.” The lock hummed open, and he took back the bottle, allowing her to step inside.
The door shut behind them with a metallic clunk that seemed to seal her fate.
No turning back now.
But looking up at his impossibly handsome face, she found she didn’t want to.
“That could describe the majority of men who come to Las Vegas,” she said.
“And the women who come to Sin City? Don’t they have secrets?”
“Everyone has a secret. And those who say they don’t are lying.”
“What’s yours?”
She gave him a coy smile. “It wouldn’t be a secret if I told you.”
His fingertips were warm on the small of her back as he guided her inside. A glance around the place revealed modern, understated opulence: black leather and steel, softened by a few well-placed wood accents. On the walls, huge framed art depicting aviation themes.
One image in particular was so phallic that, with Ian in front of her to add to the impression, it robbed her of breath.
He set the bottle on a side table, then shrugged out of his tuxedo jacket, tossing it on a nearby bench, leaving him in his shirt, vest, and that sexy dangling dark purple bow tie.
He opened his mouth but immediately closed it when his gaze collided with hers.
She didn’t know what he read there, but the next second, his blue eyes turned to flames, and she was in his arms.
The shock of his hard body drew a gasp from Claire, which he quickly swallowed as his mouth slammed over hers and his hand dove into her hair, anchoring her head in his large palm.
His lips were soft. His kiss was thorough and demanding. Her mind began to spiral as his tongue sparked a raging electric current that ricocheted through her entire body.
This didn’t match her imagination. It surpassed it.
Just when her knees threatened to buckle, he reached under her skirt, cupped her backside, and pivoted, pinning her against the wall. She gripped his shoulders, wrapping one leg around him, her mouth opening wider under his.
Dimly, she realized she’d seen this in movies.
Now, it was happening to her. And God, it was so good.
She felt him, hard against her belly, and the need for that Magnum condom became clear.
He bent his head and opened his mouth over her clavicle, his tongue doing what it had done to her mouth.
She gasped. Her hands roamed over the pleats of his white tuxedo shirt, blindly undoing two studs, her fingertips skimming over the hot skin she’d exposed.
She wanted more.
He gave her clavicle one last swipe.
He reached for his waistband.
She slapped at his hands. His gaze flicked to hers, and he immediately dropped his arms to his sides, his blue eyes hooded as he watched her undo the button, unzip his fly, and shove his pants and boxers down in seconds.
She looked, and her breath caught.
Dear God but he was perfect. She had to touch him.
She gripped him, hot and hard and silky in her palm, a thrill of satisfaction running through her as she felt him start violently in her grasp.
Tightening her hold, she stroked him. He braced himself, palms on the wall, his blond head falling forward, lips parted.
His breath came faster, in audible pants. “Jesus.”
She felt him harden even more.
He grabbed her hand to stop her.
“You have five seconds to decide if I take you against this wall or in the bedroom.” His low, gravelly voice, so different from before, sent shivers down her spine and raised goose bumps from her scalp and down her arms.
Tonight, she’d be that wild woman in the movie.
“Wall,” she said.
“Thank fuck.”
She steadied herself, panting, thrumming with anticipation as he ripped the gold foil packet.
Heart hammering, she waited, the seconds it took him to slide on the condom feeling like forever.
“Last chance to bail,” he said, his voice low. “Because once I lay a finger on you again, you’re mine.” He paused, then added, “For the night.”
“Yes,” she breathed, as his hands shoved under her skirt again, over her backside, and quickly found the lace edging of her bodysuit.
“Silk. Nice.” Keeping one hand on her hip, he found her front and groaned. “You’re drenched.”
She whimpered at the feel of his finger gliding along her slick flesh.
He sought only for a second before he found and unsnapped the fasteners. “God, yes.”
He began rubbing then, expertly finding exactly where to press and where to glide, up and down and around, over and over and over again, until the tingles started somewhere deep inside, and she felt herself begin to shudder as a hard, fast climax took her body, while he took her mouth, his tongue mirroring what he was doing to her with his fingers.
“You’re so hot, coming so hard on my hand. I want to—” Suddenly, he drew away, and she pressed her lips together and mewled softly in frustration.
Shoving her bodysuit up higher, he lifted her. “I want to feel you.”
She wrapped her arms and legs around him.
And then, in one swift thrust, he sheathed himself inside her to the hilt.
The exquisite sensation as she clenched around him sent her even higher, and she continued to climax, gripping him rhythmically as he rolled his hips, letting her ride out her orgasm with him inside her.
“That’s it. Come. Come all over my—Damn, you feel so good.”
The last waves barely washed over her when Ian began to pump, hips snapping as he drove into her with vigor. Somehow, he held her with care so she didn’t slam too hard into the wall.
She felt him harden. She couldn’t believe it, but another orgasm made itself known in hot, powerful tingles. “I’m coming,” she whispered.
“Jesus.”
He slowed, adjusted his hold, spread her a little wider, and she barely felt the wall behind her as his movement made him hit a spot that sent the tremors racking her again, this time more powerfully than the first. She closed her eyes tightly, feeling the exquisite spasms amplified by him rocking gently into her.
She was lost, lost in a vortex of sensation, lost in Ian, her arms locked around his neck. The next moment, he hardened to steel.
It was a long one for him too. Her heart hammered, and her ears roared as she felt and listened to him come. She opened her eyes and saw his beautiful, flushed face, pain-pleasure-ecstasy all over it. It was the most erotic thing she’d ever seen.
With one last thrust and a loud grunt, he stilled. His arms spasmed, his powerful chest rising and falling with his fight for breath.
He rested his cheek atop her head. For a few seconds, neither of them moved, and all she heard was ragged breathing.
He nuzzled her hair. “Fuck me,” he muttered in bewilderment.
She smiled against his throat, now damp with a thin sheen of perspiration. “That was the idea.”
Ian
She slumped against him. “Wow.”
“I know.” Ian held her against the wall a little longer until he was sure they both could remain standing, then carefully eased out and set her down.
He couldn’t believe what had just happened, nor the beauty of those shimmering green eyes, as she quietly watched him tie off the condom.
He shook his head in wonder. “Don’t move. I’ll be right back.”
She nodded and pulled down her bodysuit, propping one foot against the wall. Skirt still up around her waist, eyes drifting closed, thighs pressed tightly together, she struck a seriously sexy pose. Her lips were red and swollen from his kisses, her hair a riot of copper silk.
Quickly, he put himself back together, then went to the powder room.
She watched him approach as he returned, a bewildered expression on her flushed face.
Bending down on one knee, he gently cleaned her with a tissue, snapped her bodysuit closed, then stood and tugged her skirt back into place, smoothing it over those round hips that were made for a man to hold on to.
“There. All unravaged.” He raked a hand through his hair.
Wordlessly, she still watched him, those green eyes communicating so clearly, he didn’t even need words from those swollen Cupid’s bow lips: what now?
“Now, we can go slow,” he told her.
Relief spread across her face.
Had she thought he’d be satisfied after one time? He wasn’t done with her. Hell no, not by a long shot. “Are you OK?”
Her laugh was sonorous. “Don’t know if I can walk, but I’m OK.”
He grinned. “Happy to assist.”
Swiftly, he swept her up into his arms, turning toward the bedrooms, then changed his mind and carried her to a nearby leather armchair and eased into it, taking her with him.
He gripped her chin, tipping her face up to finally study her closely. Upturned nose, lovely cheekbones dusted with freckles, flawless skin, and eyes the color of new spring leaves.
Her hands smoothed up over his vest to finger the pleats of his dress shirt. “That was …”
That was us.
“It definitely was something,” he said.
Her index finger traced his chin. “Has anyone ever told you …” Her voice trailed.
“What?”
She shook her head once. “Nothing. Now, kiss me, slowly.”
Damn.
He had been bantering about the kryptonite, albeit truthfully—he loved redheads—but now, after what he’d just experienced, he could see this woman being precisely that.
He bent his head and took her lips in a long, thorough kiss that had him swiftly wanting her again. If she could kiss like that, what could she do to the rest of him with her mouth?