She arched her brow. “An unusual topic for a dude.”
“You haven't met my family. If you aren't comfortable with strong women, you won't last long.” He fell deeper int
o her orbit at the sound of her alto laugh. “How about you, what's your story?”
“I'm a waitress, remember?”
“Bullshit. That's a job, it's not who you are. Come on, if you can't spill your secrets to a total and complete stranger whom you'll never see again, whom can you tell?”
A lightness loosened her tense shoulders. She leaned in closer. “Sort of an I'll tell you mine, if you tell me yours, eh?”
Blood rushed in Sam's ears before heading south. “Exactly.”
She laughed and began telling him about growing up in Vegas with her mom, dad and brother. As she talked, she played with the simple gold chain around her neck that dipped down into her creamy cleavage. The sight of her fingers tangling in the delicate necklace entranced him, taunted him with visions of her touching him. He had no clue how long he sat in a desire-induced daze before she caught him.
“Sam, did you hear a word I just said?” She laughed, a low, throaty sound that ratcheted up the lust fogging his brain.
He had no idea where she was in her story when he'd stopped listening. “You caught me.”
“And I was just telling you the story about how a nude modeling gig during art school turned into a crazy all-night orgy.” Her teasing tone gave away the statement as a whopper.
“I'm really sorry to have missed that. Can you tell it again?”
She tossed back her head and laughed, sending her platinum curls bouncing.
For the next few hours they talked about their families, debated American political history, discussed her painting and laughed at the escalating—and doomed—flirtation between Mike and the trio of bachelorettes. Somehow their barstools moved closer and closer until their legs touched from ankles to hips. While his higher mental functions were focused on talking, the rest of him reveled in the softness of her skin, the way she chewed on the short straw from her gimlet and the top curve of her breasts peeking out from her V-neck T-shirt.
She wet her lips with a swipe of her pink tongue and his cock almost broke through his zipper. Her fingers brushed against his biceps and he had to force himself not to toss her over his shoulder and race up to his room. Wondering if that soft spot where her hip dipped in to meet her waist tasted as sweet as her wrist was about to drive him crazy.
“Am I boring you?”
Caught in fantasy land again, he shook his head.
Her hand dropped to his thigh, searing his skin through the thick denim of his jeans.
“Not at all.” He squeezed the words out from between gritted teeth. “Just momentarily distracted.”
Her gray eyes sparkled and even though her fingers stayed closer to his knee than his crotch, he swore she knew exactly how uncomfortably distracted he'd become.
“Whatcha thinkin' about?” She leaned in, giving him an excellent view of her bountiful cleavage.
He sputtered out the first thing that came to mind. “Your tattoos.”
“Oh yeah?” Her hand traveled north. “Let's go up to your room so I can show them all to you.”
Chapter Three
Just kissing Sam's lips and tasting the smoky peat-flavored scotch lingering there wasn't enough. Josie needed to touch him. Everywhere.
Now.
They'd barely made it through the door of his hotel room before she’d wrestled his shirt tails free of his waistband. She slid her fingers underneath to tangle in the dusting of mahogany hair leading to the button on his jeans. His abs jumped under her touch. Need flared to life between her legs. Their lips locked together, forcing out every thought in her brain. He electrified her body, every cell alive with wanting.
This is what she needed: to escape in the arms of a stranger and forget about the sword hanging over her head. No emotion. No ties. No happily ever after. Just hot, heady fucking.
The hotel room door thunked closed and Sam pulled away, the inches separating their lips seeming like miles. Their chests heaved in unison, her diamond-hard nipples tenting underneath the soft cotton of her T-shirt.
His finger sketched a meandering line down the column of her neck, pausing for a moment at her frantic pulse point before continuing along through the deep valley between her heavy breasts.