Blame It on the Blackout Page 10

  Only when he shut off his brain and let himself enjoy the spell she wove around them. Without thinking of all the reasons they wouldn’t work, all the ways he could hurt her.

  Her legs slid from his shoulders, boneless and limp. He took the opportunity to crawl back up her long, lithe frame to her lips, drawing them into his mouth one at a time.

  “Thank you,” he whispered against her cheek. “That was amazing.”

  Her eyes opened to slits, looking droopy and satisfied. She tried to laugh, but it came out as more of an amused wheeze.

  “I should be thanking you. It was amazing. And you didn’t even get to have any fun yet.” Her fingers combed through his hair and a soft smile crested her lips.

  “Oh, I had fun, believe me. Watching you come, knowing I brought you to that point, is the single most incredible event of my life. Not counting the little escapade in the elevator, since I couldn’t see you. Or anything that might come next, which I’m guessing will be equally remarkable.”

  “I don’t know,” she said with a teasing grin, still stroking his scalp. “What we’ve already done was pretty out-of-this-world, at least for me. I’m not sure anything could top it. Maybe we should just quit while we’re ahead.”

  “Oh, no.” Peter dug his teeth into the taut flesh between neck and shoulder, branding her with his mark. “We’re just getting started. Before the night is over, I intend to make you scream at least six or eight more times.”

  “Six or eight, hmm? That’s quite a bar you’re setting for yourself. Are you sure you can handle it?”

  He gazed down at her, feigning irritation with what he hoped was a devilishly raised brow. “I can handle it. The question is, can you?”

  She drew her legs up and encircled his waist, bringing him that much closer to the entrance of her femininity. The damp warmth dusting his throbbing erection made him clench his teeth to keep from popping like a bottle of champagne right then and there.

  Her low voice washed over him, full of sensual promises. “I’m certainly willing to try.”

  He rested his forehead against her brow, then placed a light kiss on the tip of her nose. “This time, we’re going to be more careful,” he told her.

  Rolling slightly away, he reached to the floor for his earlier discarded pants. He dug his wallet out of the back pocket and a condom out of the wallet.

  “I’ve been carrying this with me ever since our encounter in the elevator, just in case.”

  “Do you only have the one?”

  Pulling himself back up on the bed, he shot her a pirate’s grin, then ripped the foil-lined packet open with his teeth. “Unfortunately, yes. But I’ll run down to the hotel gift shop for another box before we need them.”

  “Mmm, a man with a plan. What a turn-on.”

  He chuckled as he took the condom from its wrapper and moved to sheath himself. But her hand stopped him, taking the latex circle from his grasp.

  “Let me.”

  Lowering her feet to the mattress, Lucy shimmied toward the headboard, getting to her knees. Peter did the same, until they were kneeling on the bed, face-to-face. She skimmed a palm down the broad expanse of his chest, marveling at the play of muscles. How they defined his sculpted, mouthwatering form and rippled beneath her touch.

  Her own stomach clenched in anticipation as she leaned forward and kissed first one flat male nipple and then the other. He shuddered in response.

  His reaction made her bold…not that she hadn’t already been more daring than usual with him. But that’s what Peter did to her. He made her feel powerful and uninhibited. Womanly and wanton.

  “Lie back,” she ordered, advancing on him and pushing firmly on his pectorals.

  He followed her instructions, going flat on his back across the bunched and slippery hotel-issue bedspread. She straddled him, crawling up his long, rough-haired legs until she could rest her bottom high on his thighs.

  He watched her through thick blond lashes, his hands moving to cup her hips. “You’re trying to kill me, aren’t you?”

  Lucy shook her head. Her hair fanned out in a black veil and fell around her shoulders. “Just a little death.”

  The air left his lungs in a hiss. “Very funny. If you’re not careful, it could be a big one, and maybe the real thing.”

  She bent over, letting her belly come in contact with his pointing erection. It pressed like steel into her flesh, even though the surface felt like crushed velvet.

  His chest rose and fell with his heavy breathing. Hovering just above his parted lips, she exhaled, letting her warm breath caress his mouth and cheeks. “You’re not afraid of a little pleasure, are you?”

  “A little?” he spoke raggedly. “No. But with you, there’s no chance of ‘a little.’ It’s going to be a lot, and it’s going to be phenomenal…if I make it that far.”

  “If you don’t make it all the way the first time,” she teased wickedly, “we’ll just have to try, try again.”

  Peter groaned, deep in his throat, and his hips arched off the bed almost of their own volition. A shock of awareness shot through her at the action, and suddenly she didn’t want to play anymore. She only wanted him inside her, pounding and thrusting until their teeth rattled and their minds turned to mush.

  Lifting up again, she took hold of his arousal with one hand at the base while she situated the condom over the tip with the other. She felt his entire body tense under her and wasted no time rolling the protection into place.

  His fingers dug into her buttocks as she repositioned herself and began taking his hot length into her body. Inch by inch, she eased down. He pulsed inside her, seeming to grow larger even as she engulfed him.

  When she was fully seated, they both released heartfelt sighs.

  “That’s a pretty good start,” he muttered.

  “And it’s bound to get even better, right?”

  “God, I hope so.”

  Flattening both palms on his ribcage, she rose up on her knees a fraction, letting him slide partially out of her body even as she tightened her internal grip to keep him in place. He bit his bottom lip, stifling a moan, and she moved back down.

  Then she arched forward and repeated the motion. Up. Down. Back. Forth. Side to side. She changed direction with each stroke, keeping him on edge. His hands clutched her hips, clenching and unclenching as he lifted off the mattress, thrusting upwards to reach her.

  Her fingers curled against his firm abdomen like talons as heat lightning raced through her. Tension spiraled at her center, growing tighter and tighter until every muscle in her body grew tightrope taut and her lungs froze in her chest.

  Ecstasy rolled over her in a waterfall of sensation, sharp at first and then warm and comforting. Beneath her, Peter’s lips curled back from his gritted teeth as he flexed his hips one last time and climaxed inside her.

  They floated back down to earth slowly, hearts pounding, bones the consistency of vanilla pudding. She fell across him, limp and sated. Her hair covered them like a blanket, hiding her eyes and getting in her mouth, but she didn’t care.

  She’d never felt anything in her life even close to what she’d just experienced. The things Peter did to her, the heights and emotions he wrung from her. He played her like a well-tuned instrument, and she sang in response.

  His chest rose and fell as he struggled to draw air into his lungs, and his heart beat erratically under her ear. Both made her feel safe, as though she never needed to move again. She could die right here, right now, and not suffer a single regret.

  Her eyelids were too heavy to open when he smoothed a hand over the back of her head. She purred in contentment, but remained wilted.

  “Are you okay?” he asked, his mouth moving against her temple.

  Her only answer was a noncommittal grunt.

  He chuckled, the sound vibrating along both their bodies. “Well, I have to say I’m surprised the bed held up. Halfway through, I expected the springs to give out and the two of us to find ourselves on the floo
r.”

  “Halfway through, I’m surprised you could think at all,” she muttered lazily. “But the floor might not be a bad idea for the next time around.”

  “God, I love a woman who plans for the future.”

  He shifted, sending aftershocks of desire through her lower regions where they were still intimately connected. With a small groan, he rolled to his side, depositing her on her back on the mattress and kissing her brow.

  “I just need to take care of this,” he said, sitting up on the edge of the bed and removing the used condom. He made his way to the bathroom, closing the door all but a crack behind him.

  Lucy lay there as the seconds ticked by, staring up at the ceiling. It was too much effort to move, though she knew she should. And Peter’s last words were humming through her brain, sending nerve endings that were previously numb with pleasure into unpleasant awareness.

  Love. He’d used the word, but he didn’t mean it…not the way she wished he would.

  A part of her knew she shouldn’t be upset. She should shrug off his comment as the simple turn of phrase it had been. But another part of her was reminded in living color of the problems that still stood between them.

  Great sex was one thing…if they handed out awards for outstanding performances in the bedroom, Peter would have a wall full of gold medals. With him, she might even win a few of her own.

  She’d let herself pretend nothing else mattered for the chance to be with him again, but the fact remained that he still didn’t want a wife or family. And she still did.

  They could remain lovers for an unspecified amount of time, enjoy each other’s company and the magic they created together between the sheets. But it wouldn’t last, and she had to decide whether to delude herself for a couple months, then deal with the pain of his eventual rejection, or take the handful of blissful memories they’d created already and cut her losses.

  Peter returned then, breaking into her thoughts as the mattress bowed beneath his weight. She rolled into his bare thigh, finally forcing her eyes open to stare up at him.

  “You look like a Greek goddess, replete after an afternoon of being pleasured by her love slaves.”

  The back of his hand dusted the length of her arm, sending shivers down her spine. “Just one love slave,” she corrected. “But he’s very talented.”

  “Thanks.” One corner of his mouth quirked in a sexy half-grin. “I aim to please. Speaking of which, we need more condoms if we hope to repeat the performance on the floor, or in the tub, or anywhere else. I’m going to run down to the gift shop and see what they have. Don’t move, okay?”

  She didn’t move, but neither did she nod in agreement.

  He retrieved his slacks and shirt from the pile on the floor, shrugging into them as he headed for the door. Checking for his wallet, he threw her a wink and wave from the hallway just before the door slammed shut.

  Lucy lay there for a minute, letting her mind race and trying to decide what to do. Then she slowly got out of bed and began to dress in the same purple business suit she’d worn for the trip up.

  Dragging her suitcase from the closet, she threw her belongings inside in no particular order, her movements becoming more and more hurried the longer she took, afraid Peter would return before she’d completed her task.

  If he caught her trying to sneak out, there’s no telling how he would react, and she wasn’t sure she could explain. She just knew she couldn’t stay here a minute longer.

  She double-checked the drawers and bathroom counter, then quickly used the automatic checkout on the television set to let the hotel know she was leaving. No sense letting them charge him for nights she wasn’t even using.

  Peter would be crushed when he came back and found the room empty. She knew that, and yet she couldn’t spend the rest of the night with him, no matter how much it might hurt his feelings not to. She couldn’t finish out their trip as his lover when there was no hope of ever being more.

  As she passed the door that connected their two rooms, she stopped and took a deep breath. Pressing a kiss to her fingertips, she then touched them to the cool panel.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered, as though he could hear her and might someday understand her decision and the price she paid in making it.

  With tears gathering along the rims of her eyes, she hurried out of the room and down the carpeted hall toward the stairwell exit.

  Nine

  Peter was whistling as he returned to the room and knocked on the faux wood panel. He had his key card, but it wouldn’t work on her door. And as lovely as Lucy had looked when he left, stretched across the bed gloriously naked, he knew she wouldn’t mind jumping up to answer his summons. After all, he came bearing gifts…the kind that would allow them to make love at least a dozen more times before morning.

  The thought brought a wide smile to his face. He continued whistling and waited.

  Maybe she’d fallen asleep. He rapped again and then listened for noises that would mean she was moving around inside.

  Okay, so maybe she was really, really asleep. No problem. He’d go in through his room, crawl into bed with her, and proceed to wake her with long, wet kisses up and down the line of her bare body. The thought turned him hard and caused the blood to rush heatedly through his veins in anticipation.

  Or maybe she was taking a bath. In which case, he’d strip down to his birthday suit and join her in the warm, sudsy water. This hotel had nice, roomy tubs with plenty of erotic potential.

  Deciding to leave her to whatever she was doing, he took a few steps to the side and opened his own door, the gift shop bag rattling as he juggled it to get the job done. He crossed the room and went through the connecting door, noticing right away that she was no longer in bed.

  She must be in the bathroom, then. He didn’t hear the water running, but that only meant she wasn’t taking a shower. She had probably run a bath as soon as he’d left and was even now luxuriating beneath a layer of fluffy bubbles.

  He dug inside the brown paper sack and pried a single condom out of the box. Always be prepared. He recited the Boy Scout motto with silent amusement, clasping the protection in his tightened fist.

  When he reached the bathroom, though, the door stood wide open. The lights were off and the room was empty.

  Peter frowned, turning his head to search the entire hotel room, even as he realized the effort was futile. The rooms weren’t that big, and it wasn’t like she’d be hiding in the closet or under the bed.

  Still, just to be sure, he checked both places. Then he stalked over to his room, repeating the process. Lucy was nowhere to be found.

  Maybe she’d thought of something she needed and run down to the gift shop herself right after he’d left, and they’d simply missed crossing each other’s paths.

  Figuring that was the most likely scenario, Peter stuffed the loose condom in his pocket and moved to the mini-bar for a drink. She’d be back any minute now, and he didn’t want to be dehydrated for their next bout of mind-blowing, teeth-rattling sex.

  God, but Lucy turned him on. It wasn’t just her long, luxurious black hair or the red-hot come-and-get-me lipstick she normally wore. Not just her body or the way she moved it, which could tempt a saint to sin. It was so much more than that, even if he couldn’t quite put it into words.

  She made him feel good—aroused as hell nine times out of ten, but also happy, comfortable, safe, accepted. When she was around, he just felt…better, in every way imaginable.

  He looked forward to her arrival at his house each morning and knew she’d have everything under control while she was there. But it was more than just his reliance on her as a personal assistant, more than simply her extreme competence in the workplace.

  He could have hired anyone to answer the phone, deal with his correspondence, and charm his associates. Lucy was exceptionally talented at those things, he’d be the first to admit, but he doubted any other employee would plague his thoughts the way she did or make him break his own
iron-clad rule about not getting seriously involved.

  He was involved, all right. Dammit. And he didn’t know quite what to do about it, except to go with the flow until a solution came to mind.

  Slugging back the last of his bottled water, he raided the small refrigerator for something a little stronger. This time, he grabbed a gin and mixed it with a splash of tonic in one of the glasses that the hotel provided.

  He was on his fourth trip back from the mini-bar, drinking scotch straight from a tiny plastic bottle, when he realized Lucy had been gone for over thirty minutes.

  Where the hell was she?

  The gift shop had been on the verge of closing when he was down there, so she couldn’t still be shopping. He racked his brain, but couldn’t think of anywhere else she might have gone, especially without leaving a note.

  With a curse, Peter stood, smacking a hand to his forehead. A note. He’d checked the rooms for Lucy, but hadn’t thought to look for a note. Duh!

  Leaving the half-full bottle of scotch on the nightstand with his growing collection of empties, he went back to her room. The scratch pad on the bedside table was blank, as was the hotel letterhead in the desk drawer, and he didn’t see a slip of paper anywhere.

  The only other place he could think of where she might have left a note was the bathroom mirror or countertop.

  The reflective sliding doors of the closet stood open as he passed and what he saw from the corner of his eye froze him in his tracks.

  The closet was empty. He hadn’t noticed before, or at least it hadn’t registered in his otherwise preoccupied brain, but the closet was completely and utterly empty, except for the bare wooden hangers and plastic dry cleaning bag provided by the hotel. No suitcase, no bright, tailored business suits, no sign of Lucy’s presence whatsoever.

  A sinking, slimy feeling began to uncoil low in Peter’s gut. Bleak, heavy footsteps carried him to the dresser, where he discovered the drawers to be as vacant as the rest of the room.

  My God, she was gone. Not just off on an errand, but dressed, packed and checked out.

  He sat down heavily on the end of the unmade bed, disbelief washing over him.