Stripped, page 2
Holy shit, he was hot. Sexy and quietly confident and . . . a man. He just kept watching her, and her stomach tightened and pulled. She found herself wanting to connect with him, to open up. To share the burden of her humiliating night. For some reason, even though he was a stranger, she wanted to tell him what had happened.
“I’m here for a wedding.” She pointed in the direction of the hotel’s ballroom. “I brought my boyfriend as my date.” She knocked back the rest of her scotch. “We haven’t been dating long. Anyway, it turns out that he’s married.”
The man’s eyebrows shot up. “Damn.”
“Yeah. You wanna know how I found out?” He didn’t say anything, so she continued. “His wife found out about me, and showed up at the wedding. Confronted me in front of everyone, and then tried to fight me. Her husband tried to get in between us, and she caught him in the face with her elbow. Probably broke his nose.” She glanced down at her skirt, her heart picking up speed as she remembered the humiliating scene. “It’s his blood.”
He let out a low whistle. “That’s a shit-tastic night, hands down. Another drink?”
She nodded. “Yeah.” Her phone buzzed again, but she ignored it. There was no one she wanted to talk to right now. “So obviously, I’m done with him.”
“Obviously.”
She wasn’t upset about the breakup, not really. She’d only been dating Peter for a couple of months. She wasn’t shattered or on the verge of falling apart. The fresh blow to her ego was hard to take, though, and she laughed sadly, trying to suppress the niggling fear that she’d never find someone, that there was no one out there for her. “Pretty much par for the course lately.”
Once again, his eyes swept slowly up her body, lingering on her legs, on her hips, on her breasts. Her skin tingled and warmed, and she knew it wasn’t from the scotch. No, it was from the way this man—this stranger—was feasting on her with his eyes. She let her gaze wander from his ruggedly handsome face and down his body, taking in the hard muscles, the broad shoulders, the thick thighs.
After all, fair was fair.
When her eyes met his again, something in the air around them shifted, and the tiniest hint of a smile turned up the corner of his mouth.
Oh. Her entire body responded to that twitch of his mouth. She could feel her pulse throbbing in her throat. In her chest. Between her legs. Jesus. Picking up a guy should’ve been the last thing on her mind after the night she’d had, and yet something about him had her thinking with her lady parts. Her very turned-on lady parts.
“I find that hard to believe,” he said, his deep voice rasping over her suddenly sensitive skin.
“What?” What the hell had they been talking about?
“That shitty dates are par for the course.”
“Oh. Yeah, no, it’s true. Let’s see,” she said, holding up her hand to tick the horrible experiences off on her fingers. “There was the guy who thought vampires are real. Or the guy who showed up to my place to pick me up when he was completely wasted. He passed out on my couch, woke up in the middle of the night, then ate an entire box of cereal and peed all over my floor.”
“Get out.” He shook his head sadly, but amusement shone in his eyes.
She smiled, surprised how good it felt to share all of this. “There was also the guy who showed up to our movie date in a Batman onesie complete with cape.”
He shook his head again. “That’s pathetic.”
“Oh, let me tell you about pathetic.” She regaled him with tales from her disastrous dating life, including the date who’d taken her to Hooters and spent the entire time rating the waitresses, the date who’d had a surprise KKK tattoo, and the date who’d demanded a blow job because he’d bought her dinner. He listened, an unreadable expression on his face. More than once, his gaze dropped to her mouth.
“I don’t know why I’m telling you all this.”
“Because we’re strangers. After tonight, we’ll never see each other again.”
She nodded slowly. He was right. There was something cathartic about talking to him, as though she could somehow purge her recent string of bad dates by sharing them with this ridiculously hot man. It felt . . . damn, it felt good to talk to him.
Their eyes met and the air between them seemed to thicken, almost shimmering.
The Braves’ star slugger stepped up to the plate and Brooke reached over to nudge the man’s arm. He glanced down at where she’d touched him. “He’s gonna tie it up.”
He frowned. “We’ll see.”
“You wanna bet on it?”
Any trace of happiness vanished from his face. “No.”
“Anyone ever tell you you’re kinda grumpy?”
“Yep.” He sipped his drink, his face completely unreadable.
She opened and closed her mouth, not sure what to say to that.
“You’re staying at the hotel?” he asked, his attention on the TV.
She frowned, unsure at this sudden change in topic. “Yeah.” After the disaster at the wedding, she’d gone and booked herself a separate room, and retrieved her things from Peter’s. She could’ve just driven home—she hadn’t had much to drink at the wedding—but that would’ve made her feel even worse, somehow. Besides, she’d promised to meet up with Dani at their favorite Buckhead breakfast spot tomorrow morning.
The man finished his drink. “I’m Sawyer.” He turned to her and held out his hand.
She shook it, pleasure rippling through her at the feel of his big, warm, slightly rough hand around hers. “Brooke.”
He moved into the seat next to her. “I’m sorry you’re having a shitty night, Brooke.” Something hot and needy pulsed through her at the sound of her name spoken in his deep voice. He leaned a bit closer. “I’m gonna level with you. I’m having a shitty night too. Shitty month, really.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. I’d ask if you want to talk about it, but I’m guessing that’s a big fat no.”
He nodded slowly. “Mmm. You would be right.” He paused for a second and then turned to face her. “You wanna get out of here?”
She opened her mouth to say yes—because hell yes, she did—but then slammed it shut when she realized that wasn’t a good idea. After her recent string of less-than-awesome decisions when it came to men, it was probably for the best if she kept her dress on tonight.
She tried to feign indignation, more for herself and her own willpower than for him. “What? No. I don’t even know you.” She pushed out of her seat, grabbing her clutch, feeling both disappointed and aroused. “Sorry if we got our signals crossed, or whatever.” She spun on her heel, the tattered fabric of her skirt swirling around her knees.
“You don’t actually want to walk away.”
His voice hit her right between the shoulder blades, sending a shiver down her spine.
“I don’t?” She turned to face him and their eyes locked.
He gestured at the empty chair beside him. “No.”
“And you know that how?” she challenged him, taking a step closer but not sitting back down. She felt slightly unnerved at how well he could read her. Unnerved, and turned on.
He smiled and his entire face changed. It lit up like a Christmas tree, his blue eyes sparkling as the skin around them crinkled. With that smile, he wasn’t just sexy. He was devastatingly handsome.
Oh. Oh, oh, oh.
“Sit down and I’ll tell you.”
With her heart pounding in her chest, she sat down in the seat beside him, close enough that she could feel the warmth from his skin. He was right. She didn’t want to walk away. Everything she wanted was tied up in this man.
“I’m listening,” she said, setting her clutch back down on the bar.
He leaned a bit closer, and she caught a whiff of something faintly spicy. She wasn’t sure if it was his aftershave, or just his skin. She licked her lips and swallowed, breathing him in. He smelled good. Better than good. Like man and sex.
He closed a hand around her forearm and an electric current shot through her. Her entire body was vibrating at the feel of that big hand wrapped around her, his skin against hers.
His voice was low when he spoke, and she felt every single syllable deep in her belly. “You noticed me the second you walked in here, and I felt you notice me.” His thumb rubbed a slow circle against her wrist, sparks emanating outward from his touch. “Your pulse is racing. Your pupils are dilated. You like what you see. You like my hand on you. Every time you make eye contact, I feel it, like a kick in the gut. I bet you do too.” He reached up and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “You’re fucking gorgeous,” he said, his voice a little rough. His fingertips were coarse but gentle against her skin, and goose bumps erupted everywhere. She inhaled sharply, and it wasn’t butterflies flapping in her stomach.
It was a whole damn menagerie.
He leaned in closer and his breath tickled her skin in an immensely appealing way. “I swear on my life that I’m not married, or a secret weirdo of some kind. I don’t have any tattoos, and I definitely don’t own any onesies.” He dipped his head and inhaled, and her entire body pulsed with awareness.
“Did you just smell me?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
“Mmm.” The sound came out low and gruff, and she felt an answering tug in her stomach. Never in a million years would she have thought she’d find the whole caveman thing appealing. But right here, right now, it was really working for her.
Insanity. That’s what this was. She’d endured one too many bad dates, and she was finally losing her damn mind. Because what she wanted, more than anything, was to kiss this man. She didn’t even know his last name, didn’t know where he was from, but she knew she wanted his mouth on hers. After the horror of her evening, she wanted to feel desirable. Wanted to feel needed. Wanted to feel good.
Wanted him.
“You’re thinking about kissing me,” he said, staring at her intently as though he could read her mind. Hell, maybe he could. He met her eyes. “Let me tell you something, Brooke. Life is real fucking short, and you should go after the things you want while you’ve got the chance.” The sadness she’d seen in his eyes earlier returned, and her chest constricted in sympathy.
“You’re practically a stranger,” she whispered, but it didn’t feel like an argument against taking him up to her room. The fact that she didn’t know him was hot, and slightly taboo, and turning her on more by the second.
His lips brushed against her ear as he spoke. “Doesn’t mean I can’t give you exactly what you need.”
She pulled back to meet his eyes. So blue. So guarded, as though he were fighting back those flashes of pain. As though he wanted this as much as she did. “And what is it I need, Sawyer?”
“To forget about the string of losers you’ve been dating.”
“And you think you’re the man for the job?”
“You tell me.” He cupped her cheek and kissed her, his lips firm and warm against hers. He kissed exactly the way she expected him to, with confidence and a rough edge, taking what he wanted. There was nothing tentative or uncertain in the way his mouth moved against hers. He nipped at her bottom lip and she swayed, her body melting into his. He soothed his bite with a swipe of his tongue, and she opened for him with a soft moan. He let out a low, approving rumble and claimed her mouth with slow, hot strokes of his tongue. Fire licked over her skin, and she forgot everything—her name, where she was, her horrible night—it was all obliterated by the feel of Sawyer’s mouth on hers, of his tongue sliding against hers in a dirty, promising rhythm. He made a gruff sound and deepened the kiss, the taste of his scotch mingling with hers. His stubble rasped against her skin, intensifying the friction of their mouths. His hand moved from her cheek to the back of her head, and with his fingers tangled in her hair, he tugged her closer.
Holy hell, the man could kiss. She wanted to drown in it, the rough, demanding way he owned her mouth with his. Never would she have thought that she’d like to be kissed like this, but now she wasn’t sure how she’d ever go back to uncertain, limp, tentative kisses.
And if this was how he kissed, she was about ready to dissolve into a puddle of lust imagining how he did other things. Her entire body felt like one giant throb, with her clit at the epicenter. He groaned against her mouth, the sound vibrating through her, winding her tighter. She’d never felt so achingly empty, so wet, so desperate for more from a kiss before, and she knew her mind was already made up.
He was right. This was exactly what she needed. What they both needed, if she had to guess.
She managed to break the kiss, tearing her mouth away from his. “Yes. Upstairs. Now.”
The elevator doors slid closed and Sawyer tugged Brooke against him, wanting to drown in her mouth, in her body. To feel something good. To forget about the near constant ache in his chest, just for a few hours. Drinking, punishing workouts, burying himself in cases, nothing worked. So it was time for a new plan. He was going to fuck this woman’s brains out and make her lose her damn mind in the hopes of shutting his off. A night of distraction and relief. Exactly what he’d been hoping to find.
As he crushed his mouth to hers again, she moaned, her tongue stroking against his, sending more blood rushing to his already hard cock. He trailed his hands down her back and to her ass, giving her cheeks a firm squeeze. With a soft chime, the elevator doors opened onto her floor, and she broke the kiss. Threading her long, slender fingers through his, she led him down the hall. Her blond hair fell in styled waves around her shoulders, and when she glanced back at him over her shoulder, her warm brown eyes sparkled at him as she smiled. God, she was pretty. High cheekbones, delicate features, killer smile. She was tall, at least five-foot-ten, with slender arms and long, toned legs. Clearly fit, she moved with an athletic grace that he’d found appealing the second he’d laid eyes on her. Small, perky breasts, and what had felt like an equally perky ass, but he wouldn’t know for sure until he got her out of that dress.
As far as distractions went, he could’ve done far, far worse. She’d come across as funny and confident despite her string of bad dates. She’d exuded a warmth that he’d found immensely appealing. He’d tried so hard to stay numb in the week since Ryan’s funeral, but she’d melted that hard knot in his chest so easily, reminding him of what it was like to feel good.
The ripped strap of her dress slid down her shoulder, and he reached forward and pushed it back into place, letting his fingers linger on her soft, warm skin. She turned suddenly and fisted her hands in his shirt, pulling his mouth back to hers, kissing him hungrily, catching him off guard. A low, gruff moan rumbled from somewhere deep in his chest and he slid his arms around her, pulling her tight against him. Her body fit perfectly against his. A surge of something hot and sweet curled through him, and he knew he’d made the right decision to try to pick her up. Vaguely he wondered where she was from, what her last name was, what she did for a living, but none of that mattered for tonight. This wasn’t a date. This was sex.
Not that he dated, in the traditional sense. Hadn’t since the divorce. No, it was always just sex, and he liked it that way. Simple. Easy. Painless.
He deepened the kiss, claiming her mouth as images flashed through his mind. Everything he wanted to do with Brooke. To her. Have her do to him. Given the deliciously greedy way she was kissing him, she seemed to be up for what he liked, what he needed, but he had to be sure. Something was coiling tight inside him, and he knew it was only a matter of time—minutes, probably, with how damn good her mouth felt—before it snapped free and he gave in to the hot oblivion that came with hard, dirty fucking. He broke the kiss and spoke low, urgent words against her throat. “Tell me if I get too rough with you.”
Heat flared in her eyes and she rocked her hips against him, letting out a shuddery breath when his erection slid against her hip. She bit at his bottom lip, tugging and then releasing him with a slow smile. “I like rough.”
Halle-fucking-lujah.
She scraped her nails down his chest, just enough to sting even through the cotton of his T-shirt, and he smiled. For the first time in weeks, luck was on his side. He kissed her again, deep and bruising, and she sighed against his mouth. Blood rushed through his veins, and his cock throbbed against his zipper. The temptation to back her up against the wall and fuck her in the hallway was strong, despite the likely indecent exposure charge they’d both get when caught. Something was building between them, an explosive need, with each kiss, every touch fueling the fire. He needed this woman with an intensity that ripped through him like nothing he’d ever felt before.
With a growl, he broke the kiss. “Which room?”
Her hands trembled a little as she fumbled for her key card in her bag, and a sense of pure, masculine satisfaction cascaded over him. He’d done that to her, with his mouth, his hands, the few words he’d said. And he couldn’t wait to do more. She led him two doors down from where they’d stopped and slipped the card into the slot. The lock released with a click, the little green light flashing.
Green light. Go.
As though she’d read his mind, she pushed her hands up under his shirt as they stumbled into her room, a mess of hungry mouths and tangled limbs. In a swift series of movements, he yanked his shirt off over his head, dropped it to the floor and kissed her again, slow and deep. Her hands traced over his biceps, across his pecs and down his abs. She let out a low, appreciative moan and broke the kiss.
She took a half step back, her eyes devouring his naked chest in the semidarkness. “I need to see you.” She stepped away, kicking off her shoes, and the bedside lamp flicked on. Brooke crawled across the bed toward where he stood at its foot. “Oh, hell yes,” she breathed, coming to a stop in front of him, her fingers tracing over the ridges of his abs. “Even better than I hoped. Almost perfect.”
He started to smile, but then stopped. “Almost?”
“I’m not done checking you out yet. Final verdict isn’t in.” She kissed a path over his chest, her teeth nipping at his skin. Then, her eyes holding his, she skimmed a hand lower, down to the bulge in his jeans. She rubbed her palm up the length of him and her mouth fell open. “I take back the ‘almost,’” she whispered, stroking him through his jeans. He rocked his hips into her hand, wanting more of her touch, and for a second, he closed his eyes. Just letting himself feel good. And sure, part of it was the fact that Brooke was stroking his cock, but there was more to it than that. It was something about this woman. She was ballsy, sexy as fuck, and had an edge to her he found immensely appealing. The fact that she was so clearly turned on by him . . . damn, that felt good.
