Читать книгу Command Performance - Sara Jane Stone - Страница 13

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THE PLAN HAD WORKED. Hunter Cross, the man with the bedroom eyes, was looking at her as if he couldn’t wait to tear her clothes off. She could tell from the tension in his body that he was ready to jump up from the table. He’d just drenched the front of his clothes and he didn’t seem to give a damn. That’s what she wanted, a man who cared more about her pleasure than his own comfort.

A rush of excitement washed over her, leaving her skin tingling, waiting to be touched. The feeling took her by surprise. It had been so long since she’d felt that first spark that she barely recognized it. This is what I’ve been looking for, she thought.

“But first, I have a few things I need to know about you before I get into bed with you,” he said calmly.

Or maybe not. He didn’t sound like a man blinded by lust. Maybe she was so desperate for a wild night in bed with a man who made her breasts ache to be touched that she’d imagined his interest.

Her stomach flipped and she reached for her drink, needing to hold something. Why had she picked the most handsome man in the tent, maybe in the entire state of New York, for her conquest? And why hadn’t she started with a normal conversation? She could have asked him what he did in the army, or where he was from. Instead, she’d demanded an orgasm.

Her finger traced the rim of her water glass. Maybe she should run away now and spare herself any further embarrassment. She could stop on her way home and buy a vibrator. Throw in a cinnamon bun and that might be all the wild and crazy she needed in her life right now.

Except her fantasies didn’t involve batteries.

“What would you like to know?” She tried to sound casual, which was hard given she’d whispered the words.

“Do you live around here?”

She looked up at him and felt her building sense of oh-God-what-have-I-done fade away. His George Clooney eyes said I want you, while the laugh lines around his mouth indicated he wanted to play a bit first.

She couldn’t feel the vodka anymore, but her sense of daring, the one that had driven her to wear the skinny jeans even though she’d sworn she’d wait until she lost a few pounds, returned. She leaned forward, watching his gaze fall to her chest. “Yes. About twenty minutes away.”

“Favorite color?” His eyes never left her breasts.

Maggie set her water on the table and leaned back, clasping her hands behind her chair as she pretended to consider his question. Her cotton shirt pulled tight against her nipples and she swore she heard him mumble a curse. “Green.”

“Favorite food?” he asked, his voice low.

“Linguine Alfredo.” Most of which went straight to her thighs. But she didn’t give a damn about that right now. All she cared about was his eyes on her chest and the warm rush it sent down her body. If he didn’t hurry up with his questions, she might explode right now before he even touched her.

He drew his dreamy gaze up to her face. His eyes locked with hers. “Where do you like to be kissed?”

“Everywhere,” she whispered.

“Be specific,” he demanded.

“The back of my neck.”

He nodded. “A good place to start.”

The nerves on her neck tingled in anticipation, and lower down her body ached. How had he pushed her so close to the edge of an orgasm without even making contact?

“One last question.”

She nodded.

“Do you like...”

He paused and Maggie leaned toward him, drawn by the unbelievably sexy sound of his voice.

“Nachos?” he asked.

Maggie blinked, falling back in her chair.

“You know, chips drowning in fake cheese?” He smiled. “I thought we might go for a walk around the grounds before we started working on your orgasms. I remember seeing a nacho stand near the picnic tables.”

Oh, you’ve already started working. Her body hummed with anticipation. Between his eyes, his body and his enticing voice, this man could probably seduce just about any woman. Talk about finding a one-night stand with experience.

“Sure,” she said.

“Great. I like a girl who isn’t afraid to eat fake cheese.” Hunter pushed himself out of the chair in one fluid move. He reached for her hand and drew her up. Wobbling on her heels, Maggie held on tight when he began to release her. She curled her fingers around his much larger ones, enjoying the feel of his strong grip. Her own hand seemed delicate by comparison. So what if he was a soldier? If the old saying about a man’s hands offered any indication of what waited for her in his pants, this man’s equipment would deliver.

He led her through the exit into the hot, summer night. The sound of voices, mostly male, and engine parts filled the air, both men and parts still visible in the bright evening sunlight. Seven o’clock, give or take a few minutes, in the evening on a July night in upstate New York. It would stay light until nine—perfect for a car show, but not so great for her courage.

Away from the dimly lit tent, reality came crashing down. What was she doing wandering off with a virtual stranger? What if he was some kind of psychopath? He’d admitted he was a soldier and Maggie knew from personal experience that some of the men who returned from war zones had...problems.

She pulled free from his grasp, pretending she needed both hands to shield her eyes from the sun.

“I left my sunglasses in the car,” she mumbled.

Hunter nodded and hooked his thumbs through the belt loops on his jeans. “The nacho stand is just beyond the hubcaps.”

Nachos. They weren’t hopping into bed yet, just grabbing a bite to eat. If he turned out to be crazy, she could ditch him and race back to her car. Not that she’d be able to figure out if he was an ax murderer over chips, but she could ask a few more questions.

Falling into step beside him, she said, “So what do you do in the army?”

“Honestly—” he looked down at her with an apologetic half smile “—I can’t tell you much.”

“Top secret missions?”

“Something like that.” He led her up to a red-and-white stand with signs for hot dogs, nachos and cotton candy. “I’m a Ranger, part of the Special Forces, and our missions are classified. My teammates can’t even tell their wives and girlfriends, not that many of the guys are married, about what we do and where we go.”

A Ranger. Like her father. Like the men in Tennessee she planned to interview for her book. Maggie froze, every muscle in her body tensing. The tingling feeling in her breasts? It vanished.

She took a step back and then stopped. The part of her that craved an orgasm from a toned man with big hands and bedroom eyes told her to stay. For the first time in as long as she could recall, the need for an orgasm, the desire to shove her responsibility aside for twelve blissful hours trumped the warning bells.

“What can I get you?” the man behind the counter asked.

Hunter stepped up and Maggie followed. This wasn’t about forever. She could pretend he was an ordinary foot soldier if she wanted. The fact he was a Ranger wouldn’t matter in the morning and it certainly wouldn’t change anything once they took off their clothes.

“Nachos,” Hunter replied. “Extra cheese.”

“So you came for the food?” she asked lightly, turning the conversation away from his military career.

Hunter accepted a to-go container piled high with cheese-covered chips, paid the vendor and led her to an empty picnic table. “Nope, the food is a bonus. My buddy needed to pick up a few parts for his wife’s pickup.”

“Not into trading car parts?” She slid onto the bench.

“My truck could use a tune-up, but I’m not the man for the job. What I said before about changing a tire? That’s about the extent of my mechanic skills.”

“Well, you’re a step ahead of me. Every time I get a flat, I have to call for help.” She reached for a chip to keep her nervous hands busy.

“Is that why you were looking for a mechanic tonight?” he asked. “Need someone to call next time you have a blowout on the highway?”

Underneath the table, his leg brushed up against hers. He moved away, suggesting the touch had been an accident, but Maggie felt a rush of heat just the same, running up her calf past her thigh to her core. If he left her this turned on with an accidental touch, what would happen when he ran his palms over her bare skin? Her gaze fell to his large, capable hands, moving up his forearms to where his biceps disappeared beneath his shirt. In her imagination, his shirt vanished, allowing her to feast on his chest, over his sculpted abs and lower...

Her nipples peaked harder at the mental picture.

“Nope. You’re just what I was looking for,” she said. Was it her imagination or did her voice sound sultry? Maybe even a little seductive? All from one brush of his leg.

“I think that’s supposed to be my line,” he said, looking her straight in the eyes now. He’d been staring at her breasts and they both knew it. Was he mentally undressing her? Picturing what lay beneath her green shirt? Maggie shifted on the bench, her body desperate to move, to touch and be touched. Across the table, Hunter held her gaze the way a soon-to-be lover would—with intent.

Maggie stared back, noting the golden flecks in the rich brown of his eyes. Her lips parted as if they had an inkling of what he wanted to do. Would he kiss her? Tear off her clothes and take her right here, right now, bending her over the picnic table?

She blinked and looked away, the image too hot to handle over nachos. Was she ready to move beyond chitchat and accidental touches? The new Maggie cried yes, but not here. Not yet. One kiss from this man would lead somewhere, and she didn’t want their first round to be in the backseat of a Toyota at the fairgrounds. Definitely not part of her fantasy.

“So you’re Special Forces and all you can do is change a tire?” she asked, trying to shift the mood before she reconsidered her position on backseat sex.

“You didn’t hear this from me, but over the years I might have learned how to hot-wire a car.” He used one chip to scoop up a pile of loose cheese. She followed the movement of his hand to his mouth. How would those lips feel against her skin, trailing kisses up her inner thighs, lingering over the place that was pushing her closer and closer to saying forget the chips and take me to bed, right now?

Not yet, she reminded herself. Forcing aside the image of hot kisses, Maggie pointed to a table full of knobs and pipes. “But you couldn’t tell me what those are?”

He finished chewing and raised an eyebrow. “Do you really want to talk about car parts?”

His leg pressed up against hers, and this time it stayed there. Definitely not an accident. It was as if he couldn’t sit across from her and not touch her. It should have made her nervous, the clear, physical signal that this man wanted her. But it didn’t. Instead, excitement and anticipation flooded her body to the point where she could barely remember what they’d been talking about.

Car parts. He’d asked if she wanted to discuss car parts. The answer was no. But—

“What do you suggest?” she asked.

“Now that we’ve eaten, I’m ready to start thinking about those orgasms you asked for. Unless you need more time. We can take a walk around and peruse the merchandise. But I had to say something. It was starting to feel like the elephant at the table. I keep trying for small talk, but the O word is front and center in my mind.”

“That’s my fault.” She clasped her hands together on the table. “I’m bad at this, and I should never have been so direct.”

“Hey, I liked your approach.” Hunter reached out and rested one of his large hands on top of hers. It was an intimate gesture, but it felt right. More than right, it felt good. Reassuring. “It was a first for me, but a welcome break from most boring getting-to-know-you conversations.”

“So you’ve had a lot of experience with this? With one-night stands?”

“A time or two.” He shrugged. “I’m one of those guys who run away from romantic commitment. But orgasms? Those I can deliver. But first...”

His voice trailed off as he rose slightly, reaching across the table with his free hand.

“What?” she asked.

“You have some cheese on your cheek.”

Cupping her jaw in the palm of his hand, he swept his thumb over her face, gently brushing the corner of her lips. Maggie hadn’t learned much about men growing up, but she recognized the soft stroke against her skin for what it was. It had nothing to do with fake cheese. This man wanted to claim her.

He returned for a second sweep, this time running over the full width of her lips. She leaned into his touch, relishing the warm sensation between her legs. She parted her lips and allowed her tongue to dart out and lick the cheese off his hand. Then, in a move the old Maggie would never have considered, she captured his thumb between her lips and gently drew it into her mouth, sucking lightly. His smile widened, suggesting he liked her bold response to his simple touch. She ran her tongue up and down his thumb the way she longed to lick another part of his anatomy.

Hunter let out a low moan. No doubt he’d understood her unspoken message loud and clear. She didn’t want to be the only one enjoying orgasms tonight.

“Maggie.” He spoke softly, barely above a whisper, his eyes locked with hers.

That one word, her name, made the sizzling heat between them jump from an I-think-I-want-you eight to an I-must-have-you eleven. Forget sex in the backseat of her car. If one of them didn’t pull away soon, they might be heading toward sex on the picnic table after all.

Smiling, he withdrew his hand. Maggie felt the absence from head to toe, but silently promised herself it wouldn’t last long. Once they were alone, she had every intention of running her lips over him again. And she wouldn’t limit herself to his thumb.

“So, what will it be?” he asked, his tone low and seductive.

“Car parts or orgasms?” She tucked a curl behind her ear. “Orgasms, please.”

“I have one more question.” Hunter stood and walked around the table to offer his hand. He’d recovered his light, playful tone, but his gaze remained intent. “Did you drive here?”

Maggie placed her hand in his. “My car’s parked in the lot.”

“Great. My hotel is five minutes from here. Unless you’d rather go to your place?”

“No, we can’t go there.” On her feet and steady, she pulled her hand free and turned to pick up her purse, hoping he hadn’t seen the panicked expression flash across her face. She couldn’t take him home with her. She needed the freedom to walk away in the morning, or tonight, if things didn’t go as planned.

“Marriott it is,” he said playfully. Maggie felt her panic ease. “May I have your keys?”

She led the way to her rented Toyota, rummaging through her bag. She’d gone for sexy shoes, but opted to keep her sensible holds-everything-but-the-sun purse. Including the condoms Olivia had given her. She stumbled as her hand brushed the box.

“Easy.” He took her elbow and guided her through the crowd. Maggie kept her eyes on the exit gate. She felt her face flush and knew if she looked at him now, he’d see the pink in her cheeks. All from a box of condoms. But, oh, the promise they held.

From the corner of her eye, Maggie saw a pair of tall blonde women in strapless tops and painted-on jeans checking out Hunter. Judging from their near-perfect bodies, the blondes did not have a linguine Alfredo problem.

Hunter released her elbow and pressed his palm flat against the bare skin on her back. He drew her closer until her hip brushed the side of his body. Instead of moving away from him, she leaned into his touch, enjoying the way her skin tingled. Half an inch lower and he would have touched the fabric of her shirt, but no, he’d opted for the intimate she’s-mine touch.

“Honey, you’re a helluva lot prettier,” he murmured.

She glanced up at him and followed his gaze to the blonde Barbie look-alikes. “Thanks.”

He smiled down at her. “Find your keys?”

“Right. The keys.” His hand stayed firm against her skin, guiding her through the gate as she turned her attention back to her bag. But she could barely focus. Not when he was touching her. She’d never been so aware of a man, never had her imagination fast-forward to where his fingers would go next. Higher or lower?

The sounds of the car show faded as they made their way through the parking lot. “They’re in here somewhere. I can drive. I know where the Marriott is—”

His hand fell away and she instantly missed the feel of him as he allowed her to step in front of him. Five minutes and they would be at the hotel. Five minutes and he’d be touching her again. If only she could find the key...

Warm breath tickled her neck and Maggie lost her train of thought.

“I’m going to kiss you now,” he said. Soft fingertips swept her hair out of the way and then...lips. Soft, full lips.

Oh, God. Oh, my. Oh, yes...

She melted. His arm snaked around her waist, drawing her back against a hard wall of muscle. Sensation rushed down her body, settling into a warm ache as her knees went weak. He’d hit the perfect spot. He’d found the one place on the back of her neck, halfway between her shoulder and her hairline, that drove her mad with desire. Twelve months with Derrick and he’d never kissed her there, never turned her body to liquid need.

She pressed into the hard, muscled planes of his body, arching her back until her bottom rubbed against his crotch. She felt the hard evidence that he was just as turned on as she was. And feeling that, she wanted to be wild. She wanted to lose herself in a sea of excitement and desire. Her body was so alive it felt foreign. Was this really happening? To her?

Hunter sucked gently at the nape of her neck, keeping his hand pressed against her waist. Higher, she thought, move your hand higher. If he didn’t touch her breasts soon, her nipples would burn holes in her shirt. Forget the hotel, she wanted him here. Now. Against the car.

As softly as he’d pulled her to him, he let go. She steadied herself against the driver’s side door as her need slowly fell from an I-want-to-get-naked-with-you-in-the-parking-lot eleven to a nine.

“How about I drive,” he said, his voice like gravel.

“Good idea.” She managed to reach into her bag, her fingers searching, her mind unfocused from his kiss...and bingo. She withdrew the car key.

Like a man on a mission, he took her hand and quickly led her around to the passenger side. He unlocked her door and held it open as she slipped her giddy, excited body into the seat. But in the quiet car, away from him, her driving need faded and doubts seeped in. Maggie closed her eyes and clasped her hands together on her lap. She’d been seconds away from begging him to take her in the parking lot after a single kiss. What would happen once they were in his hotel room? Alone?

She didn’t say a word as he drove to the Marriott and turned into the parking lot. Alan Jackson’s “Gone Country” filled the car. Not country, she thought. Crazy. Out of control. She’d picked up a strange man at a car show, planned to have sex with him and told him as much. An hour ago she didn’t even know his name.

Her right hand reached for the door, her fingers gliding back and forth over the electric lock button. Crazy. Plain and simple. Her plan, which had sounded brilliant earlier, now seemed insane and maybe even a little dangerous. There was a reason sane people went on dates, shared meals and engaged in hours of getting-to-know-you small talk. It was so they didn’t fall into bed with a sinfully handsome man without knowing anything more than his name and occupation, that he liked nachos and could change a tire.

Oh, and he was a Ranger.

Maggie stole a quick glance at him and realized she knew more than what he’d revealed during their brief time together. Hunter Cross appeared to be a first-class gentleman and clearly knew his manners. He’d stood and held her chair. He’d opened the door for her. And he knew where to kiss her.

The memory of the kiss made the aching return. But was that enough? What if they got up to his room, she took off her clothes and he refused to wear a condom? She couldn’t just walk out of his hotel room the next morning wondering if he’d gotten her pregnant or worse.

He put the car in Park near a side entrance. She kept her gaze fixed on the red exit sign above the hotel door, her hands shifting in her lap. She interlaced her trembling fingers and then released them.

“Maggie?”

“Hmm?”

“It’s okay if you don’t want to do this. I’ll say good-night and let you drive home. Or we can go inside to the hotel bar and have another water. Your call.”

“No, I do.” Interlaced fingers drummed against opposite hands. “I want this.” I want you. Badly.

“Honey, your hands haven’t stopped moving since we got in the car.”

She released her grip and forced her fingers to lie still on her thighs.

“Nervous?” he asked gently.

“Yes.” Fingernails digging into her jeans, she turned to him. “I think I left out a few important questions back at the fairgrounds.”

He rested his arm on the center console and grinned. “I don’t have a favorite color, but I love homemade lasagna.”

“That’s great, but I need to know more.” The words tumbled forth as if she’d opened a floodgate, but she kept her eyes locked on her hands. “Like your medical history, and maybe a few references. And if you’re allergic to latex.”

He reached over and took her hand. His fingers wrapped around her palm and she felt the fear wane. She glanced up at him. If he was offended, she couldn’t tell from his gentle smile.

“Maggie, I won’t hurt you,” he said seriously. “You have my word. I have condoms with me and I plan to use them if you’re still interested. I swear on my father’s grave that I have a clean bill of health. I just spent four weeks in a VA hospital followed by two months of inpatient therapy. They ran every test in the book and I’m clean.”

“Why?”

“Gunshot.” It was his turn to look at the exit sign.

“Oh, God.” This was quickly becoming more complicated. Of all the men in the car show refreshment tent, she had to pick an injured Ranger. Depending on the extent of his injuries, the man sitting in the driver’s seat of her rental car might never return to active duty.

“Are you sure you’re up for this?” she asked.

Hunter laughed and smiled at her with his oh-so-handsome eyes. “Honey, I’ve been up for this since I first saw you at the bar.”

“Oh.” She glanced down at his thighs and saw the telltale bulge. The heat she’d felt when he kissed her neck returned full force. I want that, she thought. Inside me, thrusting me over the cliff into orgasm territory. Her excitement returned, but this time it was laced with something else. Power. She was the reason his pants were tight, probably uncomfortably so. And that inkling of control eased some of her fears.

“But if you’ve changed your mind, I will say good-night and go up to my room.” He paused and she kept her gaze fixed on his lap. “I would much rather give you those orgasms you need.”

“I don’t want to leave.” She withdrew her hand from his. “I just...I don’t know where to start.”

“Maggie. Look at me.” She lifted her gaze. Their eyes met and Maggie forgot to breathe. She stared deeply into his brown eyes and she knew, just knew, she could trust this man—at least for tonight.

“Close your eyes,” he said.

She obeyed.

“Now, tell me what you want, what you desire. Anything.”

I want you to take charge. Tell me what to do. But she couldn’t say that. No one had ever asked her what she wanted before. How could she reveal her fantasies to a virtual stranger? “I...I don’t know.”

“I think you do.” He reclaimed her hand and traced soft circles with his thumb. She leaned closer. “What have you always wanted to do but never had the chance? I promise I won’t laugh and you won’t shock me.”

“I don’t know....” How to put my fantasies into words.

She heard a soft rustling and sensed him moving closer and then—lips. The soft, full lips that had tantalized her neck in the parking lot gently brushed the edge of her mouth. Capturing her lips with his, he kissed her slowly, as if he’d be content to stay here in her car all night. Just kissing.

But making out in the front seat didn’t come close to fulfilling her fantasies. That was something the supposedly passionless Maggie would do—the Maggie who’d never shared her desires with the man she planned to marry. And right now? Passion threatened to short-circuit her brain. She leaned into him, hoping he’d take the hint and give her more.

Hunter did not disappoint. As far as first kisses went, this one was more of a conversation. He licked her lips as if asking, Do you trust me? Maggie opened her mouth slightly. His tongue swept inside, deepening the kiss, demanding to know if she was ready for more. As if he could sense her yielding, he stole his mouth away from hers.

“Tell me what you want,” he said, his voice low and husky. “Or maybe there’s something you don’t want.”

“I don’t want to be in control.” The words slipped out. “I just want to be and feel. Just for a little while.”

He leaned in again and his lips touched her ear. “Lucky for you, I like to be the one calling the shots.”

His tongue licked her earlobe and she groaned. Had she really said those words out loud? Really asked a man, a virtual stranger who could make a woman’s panties wet with just one look, to take control in bed? What if he misunderstood? She didn’t want to have to think or ask for what she needed; she just wanted him to know. But was that even possible? And what if he took charge by tying her to the bed? She might have a panic attack if she couldn’t get up and leave.

But wasn’t it time she finally let herself go? Maybe a little panic was good. Her carefully organized life would still be waiting for her in the morning.

“Come upstairs with me.” It was a command, a gentle one, but she knew from his tone he’d taken over.