“What floor is your room?”
She told him, but only because she planned on going in and locking his ass out. The whole night—the whole weekend—was now completely messed up. She didn’t get mad very often, but as they waited for the elevator door to open, she felt her blood start to boil. It wasn’t hard considering it had all drained into her head. She probably had steam coming out of her ears by now.
The elevator dinged its arrival, and Dillon stepped inside and swung her around as he faced the doors. Other people must have tried to get on because he said, “Sorry, this one’s full. You’ll have to catch the next one,” and stabbed the button to her floor.
As soon as the doors sealed shut and they began their ascent, he finally set her down. The blood rushed back into her body and made her dizzy, and Dillon reached out to catch her around the waist, steadying her against his bare chest. She stared up into his hazel eyes, hoping to read his thoughts, understand this new side of him she’d never seen.
In the back of her mind, a small voice told her she should be stepping out of his arms. Reestablish the boundaries that existed between friends, instead of flirting with the intimate embrace between lovers. The only reason she didn’t was because of the light-headedness.
Yep. That was it. Nothing more than a survival instinct.
“There’s something between us, Aly. I felt it when I kissed you. I know you did, too. Why deny it?”
“Because,” she said, finally pulling back to stand on the other side of the elevator. No way was she going to admit to being desperately in love with him now. Or ever for that matter. He’d made his stance on relationships clear last night and all he was offering her was a no-strings affair. Granted, that’s what she’d decided on finding when she got to Vegas, but not with Dillon. She wanted him for so much more than what he gave the women back home.
Something is better than nothing. Her mother’s reason for always inviting her father back into their home. Alyssa had never understood it until now. He was giving her the opportunity to get a taste of something she wanted desperately, but she knew it came with a price.
One broken heart.
He crossed his arms over his chest. “‘Because’ isn’t a reason. It’s a stall tactic.”
Now that she had opportunity to study him some more in his nearly naked form, her blasted eyes lowered to the only part of his anatomy still covered. The bulge behind the loincloth shocked her, its size causing her to wince and yearn at the same time. Then she remembered Trent telling her that jock-stuffing was the norm when wearing skimpy costumes.
“Did that getup come with its own padding, or did you have to use your socks?”
He glanced down at his crotch and then raised a single eyebrow at her. “You think that’s socks?”
She half shrugged. “I hear it’s pretty standard in the industry and considering how exaggerated that particular area is…”
She let her statement trail off, leaving him to finish the obvious conclusion in his head and hoping it would make him self-conscious enough to take his focus off her long enough for her to escape. But instead of his cheeks flushing or his eyes darting away from embarrassment, he closed the small bridge of space between them until only inches remained. Gripping the gold railing behind her, she tilted her head back to meet his intense gaze.
“No padding. No socks. It’s all me, Aly, I promise you,” he said, his voice husky. “And any exaggerated state can be laid solely at your feet. You have this affect on me.”
She opened her mouth but nothing came out, so she shut it and tried to swallow the brick that had formed in her throat.
“If you don’t believe me, you’re more than welcome to try and prove me wrong.”
Oh, dear God. What would it feel like to wrap her palm around his erection? What would he do? Would he submit to the pleasure or take command? He’d always been a leader, never afraid to take the reins in any situation, and she knew he had a reputation at work for being fair, but tough.
Only he’d never been that way with her before. He’d always been content with going along with whatever her super-controlling, OCD self had planned. But that was not the man standing before her now. This man was a force to be reckoned with. One she wasn’t sure she could handle.
Though it felt like a lifetime, the elevator finally signaled their arrival and welcomed them to her floor with open doors. Alyssa didn’t waste any time. Skirting past him, she walked as fast as her five-inch heels would carry her. In record time, she reached her room, inserted her key card, and slipped inside. Dillon had been several yards behind her, and she almost had the door closed before he stopped it with nothing more than the press of his hand.
“You’re not getting rid of me until we talk.”
Chapter Five
Dillon held her gaze through the three-inch gap. Part of him felt guilty for pushing the issue on her, but he couldn’t back down now. He hadn’t flown all this way and opened Pandora’s box just to leave things hanging in the balance.
“Let me in, Aly,” he said softly.
The seconds ticked by without her even so much as blinking, but finally her hand slipped from the door and she retreated into the room. After hanging the Do Not Disturb hanger on the outer handle, he closed and locked the door.
He dropped his bag and looked up to find her standing beside the bed, arms hugging herself and her eyes tracking him with every step he took in her direction.
It was clear she wanted to hide her arousal. Wanted to deny it even to herself. But even if her mouth said one thing, her body spoke the exact opposite. Her nipples pebbled beneath the thin material, begging to be touched, sucked. He wondered how sensitive they’d be. If even the feel of her clothes right now caused them to ache.
Reluctantly, he moved his gaze up. Her chest rose and fell with shallow breaths. A little higher and he could see the rapid beat of her pulse at her slim throat. Full lips painted red, open just enough for air to saw in and out. Imagining them wrapped around his hard length, her cheeks hollowing as she took him deep, caused his cock to twitch behind the tight briefs. A jolt of sensation shot straight to his gut from the friction of the cotton rubbing the nerve-rich head.
She took a step back, knocking into the nightstand behind her. A box almost fell off the edge, but she caught it in time and quickly tossed it into the drawer, slamming it shut. She obviously didn’t want him to see it. He almost wished he hadn’t. The fact that she’d purchased a box of condoms brought home that she was serious about her quest to get laid by one of the cover models this weekend. Even though she’d told him as much, there’d been a small part of him holding onto the hope that she didn’t really intend on doing much more than flirting and groping.
So much for that theory.
Fisting his hands at his sides, Dillon held onto his control by a thread. He’d tasted her lips, heard the sound she made as she gave herself over to the kiss, seen her pupils wide with desire.
And now they were alone.
In her hotel room.
With nothing but her overanalytical mind and mere scraps of cloth standing between them and a night of raw passion they’d never forget.
It was the perfect storm, all the elements coming together at the right time to create a rare situation of inevitability. All it would take was one powerful wave to capsize her doubts. To drag her under to the place where the physical senses drowned out things like reason and logic.
Then it became clear what he had to do. He had to take away her ability to think, to overanalyze and worry. If he could do that, then her body would have the chance to speak up and tell her what it wanted: him.
He took a step closer, watching her almond-shaped eyes grow round. The slow, halting progression to her reminded him of when they played Red Light, Green Light as kids. Only instead of her calling out the commands, he reacted to her roller coaster of emotions. A slight release of tension meant “green light.” An increase meant “red light.”
True to her affinity for control, she’d always pr
eferred being the traffic light. He’d never minded. It was more fun for him to see how fast he could get to her, sprinting as hard as he could every time she yelled green.
“Dillon…” Her voice held a tinge of warning as she desperately tried to keep the reins he’d always let her hold. Until now. “You said you wanted to talk.”
“I changed my mind,” he said. “I’d rather play Red Light, Green Light.”
“I’m sorry, what?”
Okay, maybe not the sexiest of statements, but it could work. And considering the wary look on Alyssa’s face, she wasn’t sure what to make of it either. Good. If he kept her off-balance, he’d have the upper hand.
“You remember our old favorite game. Only the rules are slightly different now.” Dillon took another step in her direction. Her gaze darted to his feet, then back to his face. “The green light is automatic, and it stays on until you call it red.”
At last, he closed the last foot between them. Their breaths mingled and the sharp bite of alcohol-infused lemons mixed with her warm vanilla-sugar scent. It curled through his nose and saturated his lungs.
Steeling himself, he gave her the last warning he’d allow her before making good on his intentions. “But be damn sure you want me to stop before you call it. Because not only will the game stop. Everything stops. I’ll go home and pretend none of this happened.”
“Wait.” Her hands came up to rest—but not push—against his chest. Again, her body betrayed her words, furthering his resolve. Limpid pools of aqua blue stared up at him, her whispered protest as feeble as her physical one. “Just let me think—”
“You think too much, Aly,” he said. “And I’m done waiting.”
Holding her head, Dillon crushed his mouth to hers and unleashed the passion he’d stifled for so many years. Her lips yielded, but her frame remained rigid. He could almost hear the gears turning between her ears. He needed to ramp things up if he was going to get those things to take a damn break. A challenge he happily accepted.
Sliding one hand down to her ass, he loosely gripped a fistful of hair with the other. Then, without warning, he tightened both hands and pulled her in hard. When she gasped in surprise, he slanted his mouth and thrust his tongue inside to meet hers. He half expected her to rebel—to push him away and call a stop to everything—but she did just the opposite.
At last, Alyssa let herself go. Her arms snaked up around his neck, and she melted against him with a barely audible whimper. It was the sound of her ceding defeat as her brain surrendered to the wanton needs of her body.
She dropped her head back as she exhaled his name, half prayer, half plea. It slipped into his ears and sank into his memory to live there for the rest of his days. If nothing happened beyond that point, he’d at least have the sound of his name on her lips, whispered in the heat of passion.
He kissed a trail down her neck, the long day’s worth of stubble rasping over her skin. He licked at the hollow of her throat and then continued between her collarbones as he reached beneath her hair and unhooked the straps of her dress to bare her breasts to him.
His mouth descended on a pale pink nipple, causing her to moan and rake her nails over his scalp. Goddammit, he wanted to go slow. Take his time and memorize every inch, every freckle, every curve. He’d dreamed of this moment for years and now he finally had the reality. But he couldn’t control himself. He felt like the driest of deserts and she the rarest of summer rains. He had to soak up as much of her as he could before she moved on to greener pastures.
He moved to her other nipple and drew it deep into his mouth as he pushed the rest of her dress over her hips to fall forgotten on the floor. With an arm around her back, he used his other hand to test the crotch of her black silk panties, already damp with her arousal.
“Oh my God,” she said, rocking her pelvis to grind against his fingers.
Standing up straight, he studied her. Flushed and red in all the right places; his mouth and beard had left evidence wherever he’d kissed, sucked, and abraded. Those were his marks. He wasn’t sure what he liked more. The image or the knowledge. Probably both, but one thing was for sure. It made his dick harder than a steel spike and his balls ache for release like they’d been on lockdown for a year.
Left only in her thong panties and fuck-me boots, she looked exactly how she’d wanted to look this weekend: very, very fuckable.
He slipped his fingers inside the black silk and stroked her wet folds. A weak moan tripped from her lips as she arched into him like a cat in heat. Unable to resist the temptation, he sank two fingers deep inside. Alyssa threw her head back and cried out, her nails digging into his triceps as she tried to hold on.
“Damn,” he rasped, pumping his hand in rhythm with her breaths. “You’re so hot. So fucking hot and wet.”
She started to swell and grow tight around his fingers, her muscles tense as her orgasm gathered its strength. She’d fly apart with a stiff breeze at this point. He took perverse pleasure in knowing the toys she used back home were obviously a poor substitute for the real thing. That was just one more plus he had in his column for when she started overthinking his proposal again later. And he had no doubt she would.
For now, he’d take her over the edge…so he could take her again while buried inside her.
With his next push in, he grazed her clit with the knuckle of his thumb. That’s all it took. He captured her mouth with a fervent kiss, her would-be-shouted moan sending vibrations through his tongue and down his spine. He reveled in the primal sensation of feeling his lover constrict around him, even if it was only his fingers. Either way, it’d been him who’d drawn such a powerful reaction from her. Nothing and no one else. Him.
And he was about to do it again.
…
Alyssa barely had the strength to stand and yet she didn’t feel near sated. No, the explosive orgasm that ripped through her body no less than thirty seconds ago had barely abated and all she wanted to do was climb Dillon like a tree. It was like being given a sample of something truly delicious. Having a taste only made her want to steal the whole damn tray and gorge.
Speaking of gorging…
She peered down and tried to imagine what his cock looked like, what it tasted like. Previously, she’d always considered blowjobs a necessary reciprocity in any sexual relationship. You had to give if you wanted to receive and all that. But now the proverbial butterflies kicked up a windstorm in her stomach at the thought, and her mouth watered. She wanted to wrap her lips around him and draw him deep into her mouth.
But in order to do that, she needed to vest him of that ridiculous loincloth thing. Only when she let go of his shoulders, her shaky limbs failed to hold her up.
“Whoa, there, I gotcha,” he said, catching her around the waist and then turning to lay her on the bed. “You okay?”
The grin on his face told her he knew all too well just how “okay” she was. Something told Alyssa not to poke the smug beast, but she couldn’t help herself. “Yes, I’m fine. That was nice.”
“Nice?” His face contorted like the word had turned to ashes in his mouth.
She gave him her sweetest smile and tried to hide the laughter bubbling just beneath the surface at how easily he played into her ruse. “Okay. Very nice. Is that better?”
Sandy eyebrows jammed down over stormy eyes. “I’ll show you nice.”
Uh-oh. Alyssa knew that ninety percent of men cared whether or not a woman climaxed, but she’d missed the statistic that listed how many of those cared to the point that they took an “average” orgasm as a personal challenge to make the next one more of the “mind-blowing” kind.
Dillon held her gaze as he worked the knots free from the straps tied around both biceps. The fluttering of the butterflies had morphed into a frenzied attempt at escape that mirrored her own thoughts. She glanced past him at the door to the bathroom and wondered, if she locked herself in, how long would it take him to return to the Dillon she knew how to handle?
“Do
n’t even think about it, Aly,” he warned as he positioned her diagonally at the top of the bed. Using one long strap, he tied her wrists together with a few inches of play, and then to the corner bedpost with the second. She was about to protest when he hooked his thumbs in his waistband and pushed the Tarzan briefs to the floor. All ability for simple speech was lost.
Her gaze fixated on his member, long and thick, jutting from his body and the trimmed thatch of light brown hair. His heavy testicles drew up tight as she watched, and a drop of precum leaked from the swollen tip of his cock.
He started unzipping one of her boots, bringing her attention back to the compromising position he currently had her in. She tested her restraints with a couple of tugs. When they held true, she asked, “Is this absolutely necessary?”
Tossing one boot behind him, he got to work on the other one. “Necessary? No.” Bye-bye second boot. “But sexy as hell? Fuck yes. Besides,” he added, kneeling on the bed between her spread legs, “you deserve it after antagonizing me.”
Pride had her lifting her chin and arching a brow as reality crept in through the edges of her post orgasmic haze. “I did no such thing, Dillon. Now untie me. I really think we need to talk about this some more.”
Dillon shook his head and tsked as he braced his arms on either side of her. “There you go thinking again.” He dipped his head and licked a nipple before lightly blowing on it until it tightened into a hard bud. She was helpless not to squirm beneath him when he repeated the torture on the other side. “You only get out of this one way, and one way only, Aly.”
Oh yeah, she’d almost forgotten. All she had to do was call a “red light” and everything would stop.
Everything stops. For good. So be damn sure it’s what you really want.
Call it, Alyssa. This is nothing short of pure insanity. It’s bad enough how far you let this go. Call it!
Alyssa opened her mouth, ready to end their twisted adult version of their childhood game… But nothing came out. Something held her back. She wanted to chalk it up to a starved sex drive or her innate curiosity as to how the night would play out or even a combination of both.