Dead Sexy. Kimberly Raye
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about a mixed message.
He looked at her for several long seconds, as if he couldn’t quite believe she was turning him down. Oddly enough, there was nothing arrogant about his expression. Rather, he seemed genuinely surprised.
Finally he shook his head and reached into his pocket. His warm fingers played at hers as he reached for her hand.
“I’m at the Skull Creek Inn.” He pressed a cold piece of plastic into her palm. “If you change your mind.”
But she wouldn’t, because Nikki Braxton didn’t jump into bed with a stranger, no matter how good-looking. She’d spent her entire life playing the good girl, holding back, convinced that by doing so she could guarantee a solid, lasting relationship.
And how’s that working for you?
The question haunted her for the next few hours as she gorged herself on funnel cakes, homemade fudge and a huge hunk of Miss Emma’s award-winning chocolate cake, and tried to forget the most incredible kiss of her life.
But she couldn’t forget, she finally admitted as she climbed behind the wheel of her Ford Explorer. Any more than she could avoid the truth: despite her best efforts, she was no closer to her own happily ever after than her mother had been. Even more, she was sexually frustrated to the point that she’d melted at the booted feet of a virtual stranger. And she’d totally embarrassed herself in front of the ladies’ bingo squad.
Her flawless reputation had died in a matter of seconds, and just like that she’d gone from good girl to a chip off the old block.
Forget frustrated. She was desperate.
And there was only one way to ease the anxiety eating up her common sense.
She stared at the key card he’d pressed into her hand, and the implication rushed through her brain.
Pleasure, pure and simple. Nothing less but nothing more.
Her fingers closed around the plastic, and she had the sudden urge to chuck it into the nearest trash can.
No man’s going to buy the cow if he can get the milk for free.
But this wasn’t about making a purchase.
This was strictly a barter. Sex for sex. Temporary.
For the first time in Nikki’s life that didn’t seem like such a bad thing.
She keyed the ignition, gunned the engine and pulled out of the high school parking lot. Five minutes later, she pulled up next to a shiny black-and-chrome chopper parked behind Skull Creek’s one and only motel.
Fighting down a wave of nerves, she walked to the door and knocked.
He answered wearing nothing but a pair of blue jeans and a knowing expression that said he’d had no doubt that she would show up.
He’d been waiting for her.
She had half a mind to turn and walk the other way. He looked too certain with his molten silver eyes and sensuous mouth. Too handsome. His chest was hard and muscular. Dark wisps of silky hair swirled from nipple to nipple. He had broad shoulders and sinewy arms. The ornate tattoos around his biceps made him seem darker and more dangerous. Primitive. Forbidden.
And she could no more resist him than Eve had been able to resist that ripe, juicy apple.
“Nikki Braxton,” she blurted. “Thirty years old. I own the local beauty salon. Born and raised right here in town. I like the Pussycat Dolls, chocolate pudding and playing solitaire on my computer. And I’m forever in search of new highlight colors.”
And then she kissed him.
4
THE MOMENT NIKKI touched her lips to his, Jake felt a wave of heat unlike anything he’d ever felt before. Her lips were so warm, so hungry, so damned different from any female he’d ever been with.
He was always the aggressor.
The predator.
Not this time. She backed him up into the hotel room and kicked the door shut with her foot. Her tongue tangled with his and she slid her arms around his neck. Her small fingers splayed in his hair, and heat shimmered down his spine from the point of contact.
His gut clenched and his body throbbed and suddenly he was back in the driver’s seat. He slid his arms around her waist, shoved his hands beneath her T-shirt and felt her bare skin. She was soft and warm and his body trembled. He steered her around toward the bed and urged her down. He pulled back, his hands going to the button on his jeans. He made quick work of them, shoving the denim down his legs so fast that it was a wonder he didn’t fall flat on his ass.
Her gaze fell to his massive erection and she hesitated. She was having second thoughts, damning herself for being so impulsive.
Jake fought for his control and steeled himself against the delicious heat coming off her body. Because he didn’t just want to take from her. He wanted her to give.
The notion stuck. A crazy, insane notion, but he couldn’t help himself. He’d spent a century taking, drinking, feeding, and for once he wanted to know what it felt like for a woman to give herself. Not because he demanded but because she wanted to.
He closed his hands over her shoulders, guiding her down onto the mattress. His fingers skittered over the soft material of her T-shirt, molding the cotton to her full breasts.
Easy…
The warning sounded in his head, and he managed to move his hands away before he could stroke her perfectly outlined nipples.
He scooted down to pull off her sneakers and toss them to the floor. Then his fingers went to the button on her jeans. His heart pounded and his pulse raced and an ache gripped him from the inside out. He stiffened, fighting the urge that roared inside of him.
Slow…
He smoothed the denim down her legs. His fingertips brushed her bare skin, grazing and stirring. The friction ripped through him, testing his control with each delicious inch. Finally, finally, he stood near the foot of the bed and pulled the jeans free of her long legs.
Clad only in the thin cotton shirt and lace panties, she looked so damned sweet and innocent. So opposite of any of the women he usually kept company with. He grew harder, hotter, and anticipation zipped up and down his spine.
His gaze traveled from her calves, up her lush thighs, to the wispy lace barely covering the soft strip of blond silk between her legs.
He swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry. With a sweep of his tongue he licked his lips. The urge to feel her pressed against his mouth nearly sent him over the edge. He wanted to part her with his tongue and taste all of her secrets. Need pounded, steady, demanding, and sent the blood jolting through his veins at an alarming rate.
The hunger roared inside of him and made him think crazy-ass thoughts. Like how she was just about the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen and how he wanted her more than any other woman in his past.
Because she was different from every woman.
He stared deep into her eyes. Gone was the glimmer of loneliness he’d glimpsed earlier. He saw only uncertainty now. And anticipation.
His hands started to tremble and he felt a driving force wrap around him, propel him toward her. He dropped to the bed beside her and reached out. His fingers brushed the velvet of one hip.
It wasn’t enough.
His hands seemed to move of their own accord, traveling the length of her body, exploring every curve, every dip, lingering at the lace covering her moist heat.
He traced the pattern with his fingertip, moving lower until he could feel the slit between her legs. She gasped and her legs opened. She wanted more and