Viv LaClare is so over being the matron. The widow. She wants to laugh again, live again, maybe even dabble in a little affair…if she could just find the right guy.
Britt Ackermann is so over one-night stands—and women who party with a SEAL for the bragging rights. He wants a lady with guts, sass and more than a lick of sense…if he could find the right woman.
So when he meets Viv at his teammate’s wedding, she hooks him at ‘hello.’ He’s convinced he wants all the nights she’ll give him.
But if he can promise her all the tomorrows he’s got, can she risk her tender heart on a man who has the deadliest job in the world?
How about a nibble of my newest cherry?
When the
doors opened on the fifth floor, Viv caught a glimpse of her reflection in the
full length hall mirror. The shoulder-length red hair, the dark green eyes, the
body she worked super hard to keep in shape. Didn’t this woman deserve to take
what she wanted? Especially since the desire was mutual?
She
extracted the card key from her purse and began her hunt for 510. Directional
signs lead her around to the left and down the hall and she happily padded
along on the thick carpet. The hotel was filled not only with Abby’s family but
also with her professional associates and quite a few friends. Viv might not
want that promotion but she wasn’t eager to have anyone see her go to her
rendezvous. So she hurried along the hall and turned another corner—
Only to
halt in her tracks.
Two doors
down stood Tracy Banning with The Saint, her arms wrapped around his shoulders
as he held her against the wall. Their lips were locked in a frantic kiss, and
Tracy’s legs were hooked around The Saint’s hips.
Viv shrank
back around the corner silent as a mouse.
“You need
to go,” Tracy whispered, her voice husky.
“You don’t
do wedding hook ups, is that it?” he asked, disappointment in his tone.
“The odds
of being happy about it tomorrow are not great.”
“We can
reexamine that idea tomorrow night,” he said with a laugh. “Waiting makes it
all better, don’t you know! And I’m a patient man.”
“Thanks,
Santiago,” Tracy whispered. “You’re a good man.”
“That’s
me!” he said. “Adios. Sleep well!”
Viv
straightened and took a step around the corner. “Hi, there!”
Santiago
threw her a little salute. “Hey there, Viv. Good night. See you tomorrow.”
“Right.”
She breathed a sigh of relief.
Speeding
up, she went to the end of the hall before she found 510.
She stood
there a minute, smoothed her palm over her hip, knocked twice, then put the
card in the slot and—
A wild
screeching siren rent the air.
What
the hell is that?
Her head
shot up. She stared and looked around.
The door
in front of her swung wide.
Her mouth
fell open.
Britt
stood there, bare chest, bare feet, bronze and beaming from ear-to-ear.
She heard
yells. Doors opening.
The door
in back of her disgorged people. People who said, “What is that?”
A woman
yelled, “Oh, shit!”
Another
door opened and someone moaned, “A fire? At this hour of the night?”
“Darlin’,
where are my briefs?”
“Is that a
fire alarm?”
“Britt?”
she beseeched him, jostled by four hotel guests rushing around the hall in pjs
and shock.
He reached
one long muscular arm out, grabbed her hand and pulled her inside. “Oh, honey!”
He pressed
her to the wall and slammed the door shut. “I thought you weren’t coming. I was
crazy.”
His hands
were in her hair, his body warm and hard, his lips sweet as they spoke on hers.
“Thank god.”
“Britt,”
she murmured, so enthralled by the little kisses he bestowed on her mouth and
her throat that she could barely breathe, let alone think. “The place is on fire!”
“Tell me
about it.” He was chuckling as his fingers took her evening bag from her and
put it on the hall table.
She
grinned, arching into his big warm hands as he molded her to him, breasts to
chest, tummy to tummy, flames roaring. “But the hotel—”
“Forget
the hotel, baby. I’m burning up. In a minute, you will be, too.”
She moaned
as he found the side zipper to her dress and slid it down, tooth by agonizing
tooth. “The place will burn down!”
“I know it
will.” He brushed his hands inside the crepe and let it slither down her body.
The air-conditioned
air made her shiver. But his adoring hands scorched her everywhere he touched.
“They’ll find us in here.”
“I know
they will.” He pulled her forward to step out of her cocktail dress that
puddled on the carpet.
Laughing
at the absurdities of life and luck and alarms, she tossed her hair and widened
her eyes at him. “We’ll be burnt to a crisp.”
He
continued backward to his sitting room. “Damn right.”
“You don’t
care?”
“That some
drunk fool tripped the alarm?”
She threw
her head back to chuckle. “I really shouldn’t laugh.”
“Laugh,
baby.” He sat down in a big easy chair and pulled her down with him, her legs
bent at the knees to the cushion, her entire body open to him with only
see-through French lace adorning her. He inhaled and lifted the wealth of her
breasts, one in each reverent palm. His china blue eyes grew heavy-lidded and
stormy. “Giggle. Scream. Do one. Do all. Do whatever comes naturally.”
She felt
her nipples harden, her core pulse. She felt triumphant. Powerful. Where had
that strong woman been for the past few years? “You like wild women?”
He bent to
fasten his lips over one of her nipples. “I like you.”
Bucking,
she tried to squeeze her thighs together. She was so swollen, so slick, she
might be rash and stupid and attack him like a starving cat. “You’re not going
to stop?”
“Not all
night long.”
