door.
âSomewhere less crowded.â
She didnât do âless crowdedâ with men sheâd just met. Hell, she didnât do âless crowdedâ with anyone. Maybe thatâs why she wasnât stopping him from doing something she never did, when he pulled her into the lobby of the Bellagio. She never did anything for herself. She considered her options as he pushed the elevatorâs up button.
If she didnât say something now, sheâd be in that elevator, most likely going to his room. If she did, sheâd be returning to a ballroom full of people whoâd just seen her get kissed like there was no tomorrow. Considering sheâd been trying not to draw attention to herself all day, that would be counterproductive.
Plus, he was hot. She didnât do stuff like this, but not three months ago, sheâd been run over and left for dead. Life was short. Didnât she deserve something nice? She was a good person; sheâd sacrificed everything to take care of her father. And he was Christian and Maggieâs friend. That made him a good guy, right? Not some creep who would turn out to be a psycho.
Caught up in her own debate, she hadnât realized they were in the elevator. And before she could think, Blake was kissing her, his body pressing against hers on the wall. There was no mistaking what he wanted. And she did too. Sheâd be lying to say otherwise. This, she could give and then afterward, walk away. This, she could also take. She had to make changes in her life. Sheâd learned that lesson. It was time to be selfish. She closed the debate and let herself feel.
The elevator stopped. Blake didnât. He quit kissing her long enough to fumble for his keycard. He opened the door with one hand and took one of hers with the other, then pulled her inside. What happened next was a frenzy of zippers and buttons, kisses, squeezes and heavy breathing until they were both naked and on the bed. There was nothing gentle about the way he touched her and nothing innocent in the way she reciprocated. Raw and carnal, his kisses scorched her skin. It was a burn she welcomed.
He pinned her to the bed, her arms over her head as he explored first one breast, then the other. Her body arched in response, encouraging more. She shut her eyes and gave in to the pleasure he offered. God, the man had a sinful mouth. He sucked on her nipple, maneuvering his thigh between her legs. She shouldnât do it, but with each tug, each nip, the pressure built and built. He was torturing her and she loved it. She rubbed herself against him, every lap of his tongue bringing her closer and closer. Her nipples were never this sensitive. And just when she thought sheâd peak, he withdrew. She groaned.
She caught her breath enough to ask him not to stopâsheâd been on the edgeâwhen he slid down her body. And before she could object, before she could prevent a man she barely knew from . . . dear God . Heâd gone and done it. Up the roller coaster she went, ascending the summit. The man was seriously talented. Each crescendo preceded a sudden drop when heâd slow, barely move his tongue, teasing her. Then back up she went, over and over again until she couldnât take anymore. The bastard had planned to kill her. Death by frustration.
She opened her mouth to threaten that if he stopped one more time . . . he didnât. He let her finish the ride. She climbed the exquisite mountain of pleasure, up and up and up, and then she jumped. God, she wanted to scream. But damn it to hell if she would give him the satisfactionâheâd tortured her.
She was going to get even. The moment she could feel her leg and open her eyes. She heard the rip of plastic and then a soft grunt. Condom. She was on birth control but wasnât stupid enough to forget STDs. She forced her eyelids apart. Blakeâs mouth came down on hers, hard and possessive, something else poking her