Her words chilled him, as did her casual attitude. Had she learned that lesson the hard way? He couldn’t stand thinking about it. “You think I’m capable of hurting you?”
“No.” She dropped her eyes. “But it’s a mistake to rely entirely on instinct.”
“I take it you’ve made that mistake.”
“I did. Let’s leave it at that.”
Barriers again. He wanted to know everything about her, and she was apparently going to fight him every step of the way.
He threw down bills for the bartender and stood. Her eyes traveled quickly over him, top to bottom, and she must have liked what she saw, because her beautiful mouth curved into a smile. He escorted her outside into the still-chilly May air and over to her car. “I get to pick the hotel.”
“Says who?”
“Me.” Troy spoke firmly, saw her into the driver’s seat. “The Pfister downtown. Meet me in the lobby.”
He shut her door on her surprised face and walked to his car before she could collect herself enough to respond. If they had to make love in a hotel room, okay, but for his depraved trysts, Troy wasn’t putting up with anything less than the best.
Roughly half an hour later, after a quick condom run, Troy met her in the Pfister’s elegant lobby and traveled with her up to room 321.
“Home sweet home.” He inserted the plastic card key and pushed open the door to the spacious, luxurious room done in rich shades of burgundy and gold: a bedroom with a four-poster king, a small sitting room and huge curtained windows that would have a view of Lake Michigan during the day.
“Nice. Beautiful, in fact.” She walked in, tossed her purse on the bed, drew back the curtain to peer out the window, then let it fall and casually pulled her shirt over her head, exposing a black lace push-up bra supporting firm breasts, and a toned abdomen over the black pants sitting low on her hips. “Long day. I’m going to shower.”
He stood watching her, taken aback, feeling almost superfluous, erection pushing uncomfortably against the fly of his jeans while she lowered her pants and stepped out of them to reveal not more black lace, but thin pink cotton bikini underwear with faded red and purple hearts. The mismatch was oddly endearing.
“Want company in the shower?”
She shrugged as if she couldn’t care either way. “Sure, if you’d like to.” If he’d like to? What was going on here? She was acting as if they were professional acquaintances, not two passionate people about to become lovers. Was she nervous or really this blasé about inviting strange men into bed? He didn’t like either option. He wanted her hungry for him, excited, as anxious to touch and to discover him as he was to discover her.
Her hands disappeared behind her back; black lace came loose, uncovering round, high breasts with rose nipples that made Troy’s mouth purse in anticipation of sucking. She wasn’t looking at him, undressing as if he were a girlfriend she’d spent the day with and barely noticed in the room. The panties came down next in a matter-of-fact gesture, exposing closely trimmed dark hair through which peeked soft pink perfection.
Troy made a helpless sound between a groan and a moan. She either didn’t hear or pretended not to know what she was doing to him, threw her panties on the bed and started to stride toward the shower.
He stepped deliberately in her way, pulling his shirt over his head. She was not turning their night together into an impersonal body-on-body encounter, and she was definitely not making it as far as the shower before he was inside her.
“Excuse me.” Her eyes were wide searching his face, which must be reflecting his single-minded determination. “Could I please get to the shower?”
He pulled her against him, savoring the smoothness of her skin on his, and the lush pressure of her breasts. The lingering food odors had gone with her clothes; she smelled like woman and the subtle floral scent he’d caught earlier. “Shower later. You and me now.”
“I don’t think so.”
“I do.” He moved side to side, letting his chest brush her nipples, holding her eyes with his.
She shifted her gaze away, then back, put a hand to his sternum, but not forcefully. “I’m not clean. I’d rather—”