Pinups and Possibilities Read Free Page B

few steps in, he stumbled into me. His fingers slipped out of mine. When I turned to steady him, he grasped my shoulders.
    “Hey.” His voice was thick.
    “Hey.” Mine was a breathy whisper.
    He pushed me up against the wall, and his hands slid down to my waist. He rested his grip there for a moment. The strength in his fingers provided a sharp contrast to my soft curves, and for a moment, self-consciousness threatened to overwhelm me. In a second, he’d figure out how inexperienced I was. He’d know as soon as his lips touched mine that the make-up and the outfit and the whole package was nothing more than an illusion. I only sold sexy; I didn’t live it.
    Then he squeezed my waist. The sudden roughness made me gasp, and I arched my back, pressing my chest into him. Insecurity flew from my mind, replaced by desire. He brought his index finger to my chin and tipped my head back, exposing my throat. He bent down to plant a trail of kisses there. I gasped involuntarily once again, and he groaned against the tender skin on my neck.
    We’re not even going to make it to his hotel room.
    His mouth moved down, finding the hollow of my throat, and then my collarbone, while his hands travelled lower, down my hips and to my thighs. He pressed the length of his body against mine. As he brought his teeth to my ear, my legs parted of their own accord, and I fought for some semblance of control.
    “Not here,” I murmured.
    “No,” he agreed. “Not here.”
    But his ministrations carried on, his lips and fingers creating pockets of heat everywhere they touched.
    “Taxis are out back,” I managed to get out.
    With a nearly inaudible sigh, he released his physical hold on me. But even in the dark, I could still see his ardent gaze, and that held me to the spot as much as his embrace had.
    “I have a car.”
    “No cars.”
    I couldn’t be seen leaving with him. It was too risky.
    I brushed my lips along his jaw so he wouldn’t take my comment as rejection. He groaned softly at the contact and didn’t protest as I pulled him by his hand through the rest of the hallway and out to the alleyway. Three cabs—the ones the owner of Tangerines kept on retainer so his dancers could get to and from work—sat outside with their engines running.
    I opened the back door of the first one and ignored the surprised look on the driver’s face. I’d never brought someone with me before, and never used one of the cabs to get anywhere but home.
    “Miss P—”
    “Trent Falls Lodge,” I interrupted.
    Names were an unnecessary luxury.
    The driver nodded, and we climbed in.
    We travelled in silence, not touching. The air between us was electric. With every move the green-eyed man made, the seat bounced and subsequently caused a ripple of want to rock my insides. I kept my hands clasped in my lap. It required real effort not to run my fingers along the firm, visible line of muscle under his jeans. And by the time we reached the motel, I was also fighting to keep my breathing slow and measured. All thoughts of Jayme were shoved forcibly to the bottom of my brain, buried under my desire for this stranger.
    When we reached Trent Falls Lodge, the man paid the fare, and I didn’t argue. I let him lead me to the top floor, only three up from the ground, and right into room three-oh-six.
    “Penthouse,” I teased to cover how nervous I suddenly felt.
    He shot me a charming grin. “I’m classy like that.”
    He took a step closer to me as he said the words, and my heart leaped into my throat. As he ran a hand up my bare arm, I could feel my pulse respond. It pounded in every part of my body, from my lips to my toes, and when I took a steadying breath, it came out as a ragged whimper.
    He moved even closer, creating an immediate awareness of just how tiny the room was. A miniscule table. A night stand. And a bed.
    A bed.
    Desire licked through my abdomen.
    Two more quick footfalls, and my calves pressed against the mattress, and the heat in his