Chapter Six
SLOANE
THE HALLWAY from the hotel lounge to the front lobby doors is empty and the only light is through the floor-to-ceiling windows that line the entire length facing the parking lot. The old pickup from the ranch in my line of sight is my salvation.
“Now just hold on one minute.” A warm hand softly grasps my wrist and I turn as I come to a stop. His eyebrows are pulled together in confusion and his gaze moves over my face.
His voice is soft and low and my body practically purrs, “What just happened? I thought we were going to talk.” There is no anger in the question, instead there is concern which makes my heart hurt because of the situation even more.
Helplessness weighs down my shoulders, I can’t do something as simple as talking about myself.
As I’m looking into his eyes to try and find an answer that makes sense to both of us and doesn’t make me feel smaller than I already do, he takes both of my hands in his and steps closer to me, making my head tip back.
Spicy cologne mixed with the smell of man floats past my nose and the warmth from his body caresses my front making my nipples pucker. His hands holding mine calms the fluttering in my belly and makes everything heat up.
I clear my throat and my face turns beet red, “Uhm, I thought I could be the sexy, flirty type but it’s just not me.
” His hands on mine are so warm and his thumb is stroking my skin sending zaps up my arm, and I start to babble nervously, “I’m the boring, quiet type that doesn’t initiate.
And, to be honest, I saw that finger stroke on the back of the hand move on TV and I thought it was sexy, but that was all I have in my arsenal. ”
The smile that spreads across his face could light up the whole room and his eyes dance with laughter, “Darlin’, there was no way that I could confuse you with the flirty type, however you are sexy as hell, especially since you ignored every man in the bar and read a book for an hour.
” He squeezes my fingers and says, “Your secret is safe with me, we can just talk and get to know each other.”
Maybe in another life, we could go back to our table and talk until the bar closes and then I give him my number.
I wait for days for him to call me and when he finally does my heart soars when he asks me to dinner, and who knows, maybe we date for a year or so before he asks me to spend my life with him.
But that’s not going to happen in this life. I look over his features, the full lips edged by the sexy scruffy beard, and all I want right now is to feel his lips on mine. I take a baby step closer to him.
“What if I don’t want to talk?” I whisper, my eyes locked on his.
His blue eyes move over my face and pause at my lips, he releases one of my hands and cups my cheek, his palm curling under my jaw. He softly slides his thumb across my cheekbone, “What do you want to do?”
Hunger is pooling in my core and all of my nervousness has been replaced with a need that sends a shiver up my spine. “I’ve heard this is a nice hotel.”
Sliding his hand along my jaw, he pushes my hair over my shoulder. My panties are soaked and he hasn’t even touched me yet. He’s looking at me like he wants to eat me up and all my thoughts are jumbling up.
Lifting his eyes to meet mine, his voice is thick and hungry, “I have a room, I’d be happy to let you form your own opinion.” He’s dipped his head lower and his lips are close to mine.
“I think I’d like that.” The whisper is so soft that I don’t recognize it as my own and before I can talk myself out of it, I roll up onto my toes and press my lips to his.
One of his arms snakes around my waist, pulling me into a wall of muscle.
His tongue slides across my lip and I open to let him in.
Oh God, he feels so good.
Slipping my hands around his back, I can feel the other side of that wall. The muscles of his back are just as impressive as the ones that his shirt is hugging across his chest and I slide my palms along his spine to loop my fingers over the solid ridges of his shoulders.
The short walk to the elevator and then to his room is a blur of kissing, groping, and me practically attaching myself to his front. When the door to his room closes, our hands move quickly over each other removing clothes while kissing.
I’ve become so wet that the slick warmth is moving to my thighs, never has a man made my thighs wet before we’ve even done anything.
Spinning me around so I’m facing the door, his hands clasp mine, holding them against the door on each side of my head. I groan at the loss of his kiss, but before I can think about it too much, his front is against my back and his hard length is pressing against me.
Using his chin to move my hair, his beard scratches my jaw and his lips are on my neck under my ear so I tilt my head to give him better access. My entire body has turned needy and I press my ass against the large shaft at my backside.
His rough palm slides down my arm and tickles my ribs as he slides down over my hip, making me flinch.
“Ticklish, darlin’?” His voice is low and gruff in my ear.
I think I’ve lost the ability to talk and all I can manage is, “MmmHmm.”
His hot, rough palm moves over my stomach, the callouses scratching my skin, and when his finger touches my clit I suck in a gasp and nearly come apart.
“Mmm, it sounds like you need to come, darlin’.” He slides his finger between my folds and into me, as he presses the heel of his palm against my clit, “Don’t worry, I’m gonna make you come over and over tonight.”
I want him inside of me so bad that I’m grinding my ass against him, my hips have a mind of their own as they move against his hand, he slides another large finger inside of me and starts to slowly pump into me.
The building tsunami in my core is driving all rational thought from my mind and all I can focus on is his hand expertly working me like he already knows every inch of me.
“Oh, fuck. Yes.” I moan as I let my head fall back against him and I squeeze his fingers before wave after wave of delicious pleasure washes over me.
He waits for my orgasm to finish before he pulls his fingers out and I let my forehead rest against the door. He grabs his jeans from the floor and I hear the condom wrapper rustling before he spins me around to face him.
His blue eyes are shining and his hands slide down my hips to the back of my thighs before he picks me up, my thighs tighten around his hips just before he starts to push into me. Our moans fill the room as he fills me and his lips find mine again.
He swallows my gasp at his size and my fingers dig into the skin on his shoulders, he gives me a minute to adjust, the stretch almost painful.
I squeeze his shoulders as he thoroughly kisses me. Everything about him is big and hard, and I roll my hips into him as he starts to slowly move in me.
His lips work their way along my jaw, his whiskers scratching my cheek, “Fuck, darlin’, you’re so damned tight.”
***
His breathing is deep and even and I slowly start to slide to the edge of the bed. I’m not sure how many times he made me come, but he was true to his word when he said he was going to make me come over and over. The tenderness between my legs is painful but in the best possible way.
I quietly find my clothes, but I can’t find my panties anywhere, there’s not a chance that I’m turning on a light to find them so I put on my other clothes and silently slip from the room.
As the door clicks closed and I walk down the hall, I realize that I never asked his name and he never asked mine.
He only called me darlin’ the whole night.
When I get back to the ranch, the sky is just barely lighting the sky in gray-blue and only the biggest stars are still visible. I park the old pickup in its usual place next to the house at the back door and sneak in as quietly as possible, passing through the kitchen to go up the back stairs.
“Have a good night?”
My shoulders fall when I hear Gray’s voice and I stop, letting my head fall back. Shit. Spinning on my toes, I turn to see Gray sitting at the breakfast nook on the other side of the kitchen with the newspaper and a cup of coffee.
“Mornin’,” I say, trying to keep the shame out of my voice, the flush creeping up my neck to my cheeks. If I pretend that I’m not taking the walk of shame then it’s true. No matter how red my cheeks are.
He folds the top part of the paper down and it’s obvious he’s hiding a smirk, his eyes move to my neck and he lifts his paper back up, “You better cover that up before Tucker comes down or you’ll never hear the end of it.”
A slight panic moves through my gut and I pivot to stand in front of the cabinet and see my reflection in the glass of the door. Damn it! There’s a hickie on my neck and I slap my hand over it.
“Let me get changed and I’ll be right down to start breakfast,” I mumble and rush to the stairs.
Even with the foundation on my neck, Tucker, Gray’s youngest brother, winks, not even attempting to hide his smirk when I start setting all the breakfast plates on the table.
Another flush of embarrassment travels over me and I feel my skin turn hot and red. Regardless, I’m happy when breakfast is finally over and I don’t have to see his smirks anymore.
As I’m cleaning the dishes to put in the dishwasher, I hear the front door open and close, no one uses the front door, and I do a mental tally of everyone that was at the table.
Gray and Tucker were the first at the table, as usual, then Marley came down and ate her usual oatmeal, Breanna made herself a bacon and egg biscuit on the go as she left for class.
Kinley never comes to the house for breakfast.
Gray’s daughter, Lainey Rai, was at the table with her Australian Shepherd, Wilson, for all of three minutes before she started asking Gray if she could be excused to go to the stables before school.
Grabbing a towel from the counter, I dry my sudsy hands and turn to see who came in.
My eyes go wide in shock when the reason for my deliciously achy muscles and the smile on my face walks into the kitchen and stops short, his head jerking back like someone slapped him. He’s as mouthwateringly gorgeous as he was when I left him a few hours ago.
He’s in a blue t-shirt that makes his eyes look even bluer with a flannel shirt over it, unbuttoned, and the sleeves rolled up to his elbows.
His bowed legs are in jeans that fit his muscular thighs like a glove over what looks like an old pair of work boots. His ballcap is on backward and his beard is neatly trimmed. My face flushes as I remember that beard scratching all over my body last night.
Oh no!
Is that Mason? He doesn’t look like the pictures I’ve seen in Mr. Harlow’s office. It’s the beard, it’s new.
Shit!