More Than A Mistress. Sandra Marton
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well. You are, without question, the most horrible man I ever—”
Travis rolled his eyes, grabbed her wrist and tugged her down the street and into a doorway.
“Don’t you ever think before you make a scene, lady? Or do you like being in the spotlight?”
“I cherish my privacy.”
“Yeah, well, you’ve got a strange way of showing it.” He waved his hand in the general direction of the main entrance to the Hotel Paradise. “What makes you so sure that nitwit reporter and her bozo cameraman weren’t hot on our heels, huh?”
He could see her face pale a little, even in the darkness of the doorway.
“Were they?”
He leaned out and looked. “No,” he snapped. “But you didn’t even think about it before you started chewing me out. Just once, you might try thinking of the consequences before you act.”
“Me? Me, think of the consequences?” Alex threw back her head. “Ha,” she said, without the least touch of humor, “oh, ha, Mr. Baron, that is a good one! That’s really something, coming from you.”
Travis folded his arms. “I,” he said loftily, “am not the person who got us into this mess.”
And now that he thought about it, it was a mess. He’d made an idiot of himself, prancing around onstage. And then the Thorpe babe had made an idiot of herself, running away. And just now—he’d kissed her in front of a zillion people in a way he’d probably never, ever live down.
“I am the innocent party in this entire unfortunate affair, sir!”
“Hey, Sugar. Don’t you pull that Ice Princess bit on me.”
“Are you deaf, Mr. Baron? Do not call me ‘sugar.’”
“Forgive me, Ms. Thorpe!” His mouth thinned and he shoved his face toward hers. Despite herself, Alex took a hurried step back. “Princess suits you,” he muttered. “That little lady’ll never know how right she was!”
“What little lady?”
“Never mind.” A muscle knotted in Travis’s cheek. “The bottom line here is that I am tired of being the villain in this piece.”
“Are you suggesting that I am?”
“You bid on me, remember?”
Color shot into her face. “Permit me to refresh your memory, Mr. Baron. This was a bachelor auction. The whole purpose of the event was for women to bid on men.”
“Uh-huh.”
“What, pray tell, is that supposed to mean?”
“It means you didn’t have to bid so much for me that you brought the house down.”
“I don’t have to listen to this—”
Travis grabbed her shoulder as Alex tried to brush past him. “And then,” he growled, “as if you hadn’t drawn enough attention to us already—”
“I drew attention?” Alex tossed back her head and laughed. “Oh, I love that, Mr. Baron. I wasn’t up on that stage, prancing around like a—a male stripper!”
A smile tilted across Travis’s mouth. He shifted his weight so that he blocked the doorway. All Alex could see were his broad shoulders and his ruggedly handsome face, only that and the dark night that surrounded them.
Her heart skipped a beat.
They were on a street in a busy city but she suddenly felt as if they were the last man and woman on Earth. It was the same way she’d felt when, with bravado in her blood and idiocy in her brain, she’d burst into the ballroom and spotted him onstage. The same way she’d felt on the dance floor, when he’d kissed her.
“Exactly how many male strippers have you watched in your time, Ms. Thorpe?” he said softly.
“Mr. Baron.” Her voice squeaked. She cleared her throat and began again. “Mr. Baron, really. I think we should just call it a night and—” Alex caught her breath. Travis had caught a strand of her hair between his fingers. She watched, wide-eyed, as he drew it to his nostrils. “What—what are you doing?”
“I like the smell of your hair, Princess. What is that? Opium? Joy?”
“It’s—it’s just…” She stepped back again as he moved closer. Her shoulders hit the closed door behind her. “I—I don’t remember.” She didn’t, either. She couldn’t think straight. Was that breathless little voice really hers? And was she really trembling? Alex shut her eyes, moaned as Travis touched his lips to her throat. “Mr. Baron…”
“Under the circumstances,” Travis said huskily, “I really think we might move on to first names. Don’t you, Ms. Thorpe?”
Didn’t she what? Alex shuddered as his breath warmed her skin. She couldn’t think, not while he was—while he was…
“Mr. Baron—”
“Travis.”
“Travis. Travis, really, I think—”
“Yeah. So do I.” His arms went around her. He gathered her against him, her breasts against the hard wall of his chest, her thighs against his. She put her hands out to ward him off. Instead, somehow, they curled into the lapels of his tuxedo. “I think it’s time I kissed you again, Princess, but without an audience.”
His mouth came down on hers.
“No,” she whispered, “please…”
“Let go, Princess.” He kissed her, soft, gentle kisses that made her lips cling to his. “Just let go and do what you want to do.”
His hand slid up, captured her breast, his thumb moving across the silk-covered nipple. And, for the second time that night—for the second time in her entire life—Alex did what she had never done before.
She let go.
She gave a little cry so wild and plaintive it made his blood quicken. And wrapped her arms around his neck as she rose on her toes and tilted her pelvis against his.
Travis groaned. His mouth slanted hungrily over hers, his tongue seeking and finding access to the silken sweetness of hers. He slipped his hands down her body, following the narrowness of her waist, the soft curve of her hips, and cupped her bottom, lifting her into the hardness of his arousal, moving against her as she cried out against his mouth.
“Alex,” he whispered.
“Yes,” she sighed, “oh, yes.”
He kissed her shoulder, bit the flesh, bent his head further and sucked the silk-covered center of her breast into his mouth. His hands swept up her thighs, under her skirt; she was wearing what he’d dreamed she was wearing, just those sexy stockings, a scrap of lace and nothing more. He said something she couldn’t understand, thrust his hand beneath the lace and cupped her.
She was hot. Wet. The aroused smell of her fueled him with desire. Her sobbing little breaths torched him with flame. And when she kissed his throat, sank her teeth into his flesh, he knew his need for this woman was greater than his need for breath.
He clasped her hand and brought it to him. She groaned and curved her fingers around him and he felt the blood begin to pool in his loins.
“Alex,” he said harshly.
“Please,” she whispered, “oh, please, please, please…”
He knew he could have her, now. Right here, right in this doorway. All he had to do was unzip his fly, rip away that bit of lace, bury himself deep inside her…
Someone laughed. Alex heard it, and froze. Travis did, too.
“Oh God,” she whispered.
He put his arms around her. She was