She wouldn’t tell him her name and didn’t want to know his.
She’d touched two slender fingers to his lips when he’d tried to introduce himself. "You’re Cowboy to me tonight," she’d said. "And I’m Sugar."
Okay, he’d play along, though he’d insisted on paying for the room. She’d stayed far from the front counter as he reserved the best suite The Livingston had available. She probably didn’t want to get curious and peek at the name on his credit card.
Fine. For now. He had every intention of knowing this beauty’s name and everything else about her before the night was over. Specifically, he wanted to know what or who put that forlorn look in her beautiful eyes.
His hand to her back, he escorted her into the empty elevator. The doors closed.
And she attacked.
His body slammed against the wall of the elevator and her smooth hands cupped either side of his face. She pulled him toward her luscious red lips.
"Kiss me, Cowboy."
She crushed her mouth to his. Though his int
ent was to play with her a little, hold her off, make her beg, he couldn’t resist the temptation of her honeyed mouth. When her tongue touched his, he sucked it between his lips. It was soft. So soft and wet, and she tasted like the martinis she’d drunk. Gin, a touch of vermouth and some spicy lime. Jack wasn’t sure where the lime had come from, but it was the perfect compliment.
Her lush body molded to his, and her bountiful breasts mashed against his chest. She was tall, his sugar. Tall enough that he, at six-three, didn’t need to strain his neck to kiss her. The silky fabric that covered her plump tits rubbed against him and ignited his loins.
Hell, his loins had been on fire since he’d first seen her. So beautiful and so sad. He’d wanted to help her, hold her, and take away whatever was hurting her.
If he could do that by fucking her, so be it. Yep, that was him. Jack Sherwood. Altruist.
Fuck.
She grabbed his ass and any further thoughts of altruism fled his mind.
This was not altruism. This was lust, pure and simple. He wanted her, and clearly the feeling was mutual.
The elevator dinged and opened, and he broke the kiss with a loud smack. Her lips, scarlet and swollen, curved slightly into a shy smile. She met his gaze then looked away quickly.
"Don’t get bashful with me now, sugar," Jack said. "You’re one hell of a great kisser."
"Who’s bashful?" She met his eyes and her own green orbs smoldered.
He smiled. "My mistake." He pulled her from the elevator and down the hallway to room 1145, and then trapped her against the door as he fumbled for the keycard in his pocket. Again, her body felt perfect against his and his arousal ached in his jeans. He pushed it into her soft belly and arched his eyebrow at her gasp.
"You all right?"
"Yeah, sure Cowboy." She grabbed his ass and pulled him harder against her. "I’m fine."
"Damn, sugar." Fine indeed. His jeans had tightened so much he had a hard time finding the keycard, but he had to find it, and fast. Otherwise he was about to fuck the daylights out of her right there in the hall.
He eased away from her to withdraw the card from his pocket. In a flash her warm hand was at his crotch, cupping him.
"Ah," he groaned and shut his eyes.
Thank God he’d decided to step into the Livingston bar after his appointment earlier.
This was going to be one hell of a good night.
Chapter Two
The cowboy had her in his arms before they were five feet into the room. He took her hand, drew her close and pressed his body into hers. Holly slid her fingers up the soft cotton of his shirt, grabbed the collar, and released the snaps one by one. She wanted to hurry, to rip the damn thing off him. But she’d tease a little. Take her time. He smiled—damn, he was gorgeous—as she pulled the shirt from his waistband and pushed it off his broad and beefy shoulders. It landed on the floor with a soft swoosh.
Cowboy trailed one finger over her breasts snug in her green polo shirt. Her nipples tightened when he grazed them.