Animal Instincts (17 page)

“Good luck.” He shot a glance through the restless crowd. “This doesn’t look like a receptive audience.”

He was trying to dissuade me, anything to win the bet. I surprised him by pushing to my feet. “I’ll do it,”
I said, loud enough for the man onstage to hear. I made a face at Royce. Ha! I might make a fool of myself, might have to endure jeers and snickers and catcalls, but I’d be damned if I’d leave this bar a loser.

All at once, the crowd quieted. Every eye in the room found me, riveted by the spectacle I must surely make. My knees began quaking.

A slight brush of Royce’s palm against my hip drew my gaze back to him. “What? Wishing you’d kept your mouth closed?” I asked.

His brows rose in mock salute. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

“A bet’s a bet, and I simply can’t let you win.” With that, I pivoted on my heel and strolled to the stage, unwinding the twist in my hair and letting the long, dark tendrils cascade down my shoulders and back.

Though my hand shook, I took the microphone from the announcer’s outstretched hand. “Do you have ‘Achy Breaky Heart’?”

He offered me a relieved grin. “Never have karaoke night without it.”

A few seconds later, music blasted from the speakers, penetrating the sudden silence. The sound continued to climb in volume. Words appeared on a screen just in front of me.

Deciding simply to have fun, I assumed a laugh-with-me-not-at-me pose: one hand on my hip, silly grin on my lips. I began to sing. When the first note left my mouth, all movement in the audience stopped. Even the drunk guy stared up at me like I belonged in an institution.

But I worked the stage like a pro, flipping my hair, copping an attitude and, at last, someone chuckled. That was all it took.

“Oh, yeah,” a man yelled. “Give it to me, baby. My heart is hurtin’.”

“You can break me anytime,” another called.

All around, hands clapped to the beat, urging me on. I went for it, giving the performance my all. I’d never admit it aloud, but I had the time of my life on that stage, belting out the lyrics and strutting my stuff.

When the end arrived, my voice slowly tapered to quiet. I waited for a reaction. Suddenly applause erupted and loud, buoyant cheers peeled like bells. Catcalls and whistling abounded.

I resisted the urge to stick my tongue out at Royce. I’d done it. Really done it. I had won my bet with him. Na, na, na, na, na, na. Take that, Mr. Royce Powell, god of the airplane world and superhero of sexiness.

No more airplane rides!

My grin became a smirk as I looked to Royce. He saluted me with his wineglass.

Intending to gloat, I descended the stage and strolled to him. When I reached the table, he helped me settle into my chair, but didn’t wait around to let me wallow in my victory.

“I’ll be back in a moment,” he said. And before I could protest, he sauntered away. He didn’t even send me a backward glance. My lips pursed. How dare that sore loser not lavish me with compliments.

A few minutes later, my shock and anger at Royce’s
abrupt departure dissolved. I was too busy praying God would make me invisible. A very untidy, very intoxicated man was stumbling my way.

“Hey, baby.” He was in his late thirties or early forties, and smelled like he’d just bathed in Jack Daniel’s best for at least an hour. He breezed into Royce’s vacant chair. His clothes were rumpled, his eyes glassy and red. “You really rocked onstage. I thought you were a real singer or something.”

At least he was coherent. Kind of. “Thanks,” I said.

“Can I buy you a drink?” While he spoke, his gaze locked onto my breasts, small targets though they were.

“No, I’m not thirsty,” I answered. And neither were my breasts. Actually, I really was parched, but I didn’t want to invite this man to stay any longer than necessary. Where the hell was Royce?

My unwanted visitor didn’t get the hint. He threw an arm over my stool, as if he had every right to invade my space. I’m surprised he didn’t try the yawn-and-grab routine. He gave me a lecherous grin, and I shuddered. There was something black lodged between his front teeth and I really, really hoped it was food.

“What’s your name?” he asked.

“Naomi.” I fanned the air in front of my face before I passed out from the fumes.

“Naaaomi,” he said, sounding it out. “Na-oh-me. I’m Doug.” He paused. “What’s a pretty thing like you doing all alone?”

I tried not to cringe. Really, there was only one way to get rid of a guy like this. “I’m so glad you came over
here, Douglas.” I planted my elbows on the table and gazed over at him as if he were the most beautiful sight I’d ever beheld. “I’ve been dying to talk to someone about all the things that have been going wrong in my life lately. My ex-husband Richard, may he choke on his own tongue, get an STD and win a free one-way ticket to everlasting damnation, called me the other day and asked me to get back together with him. As if I need another cheating bastard in my life. One at a time, thank you very much.”

Doug tried to interrupt me, but I kept right on talking. “You’re probably thinking that the other cheating bastard in my life is my stepdad, and you’re right. I do have plans to castrate him, though, don’t you worry.”

All color drained from Doug’s face.

“I bet you’re wondering why I haven’t done it yet. Killed and castrated him, that is. Well, the answer to that is simple, really. First I’ve got to find the perfect knife. A regular household blade simply won’t do. I really hate cheaters, Douglas, and I think—”

Just as Doug cut into my speech to mutter, “Excuse me, I think I see someone I know,” Royce returned. He watched Doug race away through slitted eyes before sinking back into his seat.

“Where were you?” I demanded. “Five more minutes and I might have had to ask Dougie Boy to be the father of my children in the hopes of scaring him away.”

“I was getting a room. I don’t want to make the drive to the cabin tonight.”

My anger faded, replaced by dread—and anticipation. I shook my head. “Wait a sec. Getting
a
room? As in
one?
”

“That’s right.” He reached under the tabletop and slowly, oh so softly, grasped my thigh.

I nearly jumped out of my skin.

He grinned slowly.

“What are you doing?” I asked in a scandalized whisper, looking all around to make sure no one watched us.

“Seducing you.” The darkened atmosphere and the corner placement of our table guaranteed privacy from everyone except the person walking directly by. Which happened to be Doug. He stumbled past once, twice, staring at me with jaundiced suspicion.

The third time, he actually stopped at the table. “She plays with knives,” he told Royce before racing away.

“She’s vicious, I know,” Royce said, keeping his eyes on me. “You were adorable onstage.”

“Thank you.” I tried to push his hand away; I didn’t push too hard, though. It felt too good.

He merely moved those naughty fingers of his higher, to a better place. “Where’d you learn to sing country music like that?”

“In the shower.” My blood heated, and I so wanted to open my legs and invite him to feel all he wanted.

“We’ve been building to this point and you know it,” he said, getting to the heart of the matter. “Ever since I picked you up this morning, I’ve wanted to strip you down and taste you. All over.”

I swallowed. Hard. There was a reason I needed to
tell him no, to wait until after his mom’s party, but at the moment I couldn’t think of what that reason was.

“I have this fantasy of us in my mind. You ride me and your hair tickles my chest. Your breasts are pushed forward, and you keep screaming my name.”

“Do I, uh, have an orgasm every time I scream?” The words escaped on the barest whisper and I was unable to stop them.

He nodded. “Oh, yeah.”

My nipples hardened and my heart began a frantic
boom-boom
rhythm.

“Once we make love, Naomi, you’ll only want more,” he promised. “Much, much more.”

No. He was wrong. I couldn’t let myself want more.

He came closer to me, his gaze stroking my face like a caress. “I’ll touch you here.” He palmed one of my breasts through the fabric of my shirt.

The fingers covering my thigh inched down my calf, not stopping until they reached bare skin. Those naughty fingers tunneled underneath the flare of my pants, then started going higher. Higher still. The material tightened at my knees, not allowing him to go farther.

I almost shouted a string of curses.

My breath hitched in my throat as he abandoned my knee and moved his hand to the waist of my pants, unsnapping the button. His pushed his hand inside, his fingers making dead-on contact with the lacy fabric of my panties.

“I’ll touch you here as well,” he said, gently stroking the material. Of their own accord, my hips
rocked slightly with his touch. “And you’ll beg me to take you over the edge.”

“I’ve already decided to sleep with you,” I admitted in a whisper. “After the party.”

His nostrils flared. “After. Before.” Pause. “Now.”

Now…so tempting. God, I wanted him. I did. I needed him. “I haven’t changed my mind about a relationship.” Unlike the way men treated women, I didn’t want him to misinterpret what was about to happen. “We can sleep together, but that’s it. Nothing more.”

His fingers stilled, and I nearly moaned. “Maybe you didn’t want a relationship,” he said, his expression fierce, “but you’re in one, anyway.”

“No.” I had to stay strong, had to fight my body’s needs until he agreed. “I want you. I do. Just—” breathe “—nothing else.”

“Well, I want everything. And I want you against a wall.” His fingers began their tormenting search again, this time bolder, moving up and down over the now-damp material. “Have you ever fucked against a wall, Naomi?”

He was deliberately being crude, I knew, trying to force me to admit I wanted more than a hard, emotionless screw. It had the opposite effect, however. I ached all over, and hearing him talk like that increased my excitement. Maybe, at heart, I was a bad, dirty girl. A closet sex kitten, like my cousins had said.

“Have you?” he demanded.

Slowly, I shook my head. My experience was
limited to the back seat of a Chevy and a cold, forgotten mattress. Don’t get me wrong. I’ve had orgasms and even enjoyed the sex. But
this
was something altogether more pleasurable.

“I’ll press your back against the wall and brace your legs around my waist.”

Breathless, I glanced at a wall and pictured exactly what he described. Two naked bodies, straining together, standing up and tangled. My throat constricted. The scene was carnal. Primal. Raw.

I’d die if I didn’t experience it.

“All right,” I told him, my voice hoarse with longing. “Now. Before the party.”

He paused, his eyes widening with disbelief. He hadn’t expected me to agree. “What did you say?”

“I said yes. I’m willing to do it against the wall.”

A blaze of heat caught fire in his irises, sparking blue flames. Those flames licked at me. His gaze moved over me with blatant possessiveness, and I licked my lips. His nostrils did the flare thing. Royce clasped my hand and jerked me to my feet. I hurriedly buttoned my pants.

No longer concerned about those around me, I raced behind him through the bar, past the reservation desk and into the elevator. Royce quickly punched a button. The doors slid shut. In the next instant, he had me pinned to the corner, plundering my mouth with his tongue, rubbing his erection into the crevice of my legs.

I almost climaxed right then.

A bell sounded. The elevator doors slid open.

It required a conscious effort to tear my mouth from Royce’s. He grabbed my hand and dragged me into the hall. “I got the lowest floor I could,” he said.

A shiver of anticipation slipped down my spine. Helpless to do otherwise, I kept moving. Okay, so I nearly beat him to the door. Big deal.

He jabbed the passkey into the electronic box. The green light winked its assent. Royce shoved open the door, hustled me inside and let the heavy wood slam behind him.

We were finally alone.

I raced to the bed, trying to shed my top along the way. It took a few minutes for me to notice Royce hadn’t followed. I turned and faced him. He had his back to the entrance. He was watching me, a predator-like gleam in his eyes. Without taking his gaze from me, he clicked the lock.

“Now,” he said.

“Now,” I agreed.

He advanced. I didn’t move, just let him come. When he reached me, my head fell backward with the force of his kiss. His tongue dove immediately inside. It was a hard and demanding caress, not meant to be gentle. But then, I didn’t crave gentleness. I craved the weight of his body, the sear of his lips, the domination of his hands.

He couldn’t be stopped.

I couldn’t be stopped.

We were wild for each other.

His hands sifted through my hair and fisted it before he began working at my bra. Next he tackled
my pants. Those, too, pooled at our feet. The lights were on. I tried not to let it bother me. I was so thin. Royce didn’t seem to mind, though.

He was all over me. I loved every second, every squeeze of his hands, and returned the favor. He was caught in the avalanche of my lust. Again, he didn’t seem to mind.

Just when I thought I might collapse, I was lifted in his arms and placed on the bed. The soft mattress cushioned my back.

“Wait!” I shouted. Had he forgotten? I cast a meaningful glance to the wall. A large floral picture hung in the center. I could almost feel the ridges pressed into my back.

Royce gave me a slow, wicked grin of agreement and nodded. “Oh, yeah. The wall.”

R
OYCE HEAVED ME UP
and carried me to the wall. The second my back hit, the hotel picture crashed to the ground. He dropped my feet so he could kick the frame out of the way, and pushed me harder against the cold paneling.

I gasped at the sensation. Our hands were frantic, our breath choppy.

But then, all of a sudden, Royce slowed down. He ceased the frantic need of our kiss and brought it to a leisurely exploration. With one hand, he caressed my neck, my collarbone and my breasts. With the
other, he skimmed downward, over the taut hollow of my stomach.

“I want to take off my panties,” I gasped out. “Help me take them off.”

“I knew you were sexy, but I don’t think I realized exactly
how
sexy until this moment,” he said, gazing down at me. His voice strained with suppressed ferocity.

“Mmm.” Who had time for conversation? I didn’t. I wanted to come now. Right now. It had been so long, too long. I ripped at his shirt buttons. “Take. Panties. Off. Me.”

He stilled my hands. “Not yet.”

“Do you want to have sex or not?” His fingers glided over my hard, waiting nipple. I jerked at the deliciousness. Everything in me was coiled and poised for release. I was so close to the edge, so unbelievably close.

“I want to savor you.”

“Savor later.” I arched against him. “Climax now.”

He closed his eyes. A bead of sweat trickled down his temple. “Not yet.” The words were more strained this time, barely audible.

I was burning up and he said “not yet”?

“What’s the problem?” I breathed. Everywhere he touched, heat rippled under my skin, but not deep enough to make a difference. “Stop being lazy and kick it into gear.”

“Lazy? Honey, you’re going to thank me for my laziness when I’m done with you. I promised you that first day that I’d go slow with you, and I’m damn well going to go slow.”

I reached between our bodies, opened his pants and slipped my hand inside. I clasped the long, thick length of his erection in my hand. “So you want to go slow? Fine.” I moved my palm up, down with agonizing slowness.

He groaned, the vibration touching me all the way to my toes. “Think you’re smart, do you?” he said, doing exactly as I had done. His hand dipped inside my panties and he pressed his fingers against my clitoris, circled, pressed again.

Actually, I thought I was a freaking genius. His actions were just enough to make me come. I screamed. I spasmed. Bright stars winked behind my eyelids. Fire swept through my blood.

“Look at me,” he commanded.

My eyes refused to open.

“Look at me. See
me.
”

I forced my lids apart. With his gaze never leaving mine, he buried two fingers deep inside of me and I clenched around him. His other hand gripped my hips. Pulling me up, helping me imitate the rhythm of sex. Once. Twice. He pushed inside. Over and over, pulling back, sinking in, making my climax last forever and ever.

And that easily, he had me ready for another round.

“See, Naomi,” he said. “I can give you pleasure. You could have this for the rest of your life.
I
could have this for the rest of
my
life.”

“Just a few nights.” I barely managed to say it, much less breathe.

He growled. “You’re too damn stubborn. Maybe
I haven’t shown you just how good it can be between us.”

“Then do it. Show me.” One orgasm wasn’t enough. I wanted more, needed more.

The tips of his fingers grew bolder, pushed deeper, teasing and taunting. I writhed beneath his hands, sensation eclipsing time.

“I’m going to taste you,” he said.

I turned his command into a command of my own. I was in charge of this show, after all. “Yes. Do it. Now.”

His scowl said he knew what I was doing, but he immediately dropped to his knees.

He jerked my panties down, and I quickly stepped out of them. He slid his hands up my calves, gripped my knees and urged them apart. It was a little disconcerting, being naked with such a sexy man poised between my legs, but I was too excited to worry much.

Richard had never, ever done this to me. No man had. I wanted it so badly.

Royce’s warm breath tickled me before I felt the first stroke of his tongue, the heat of it. The pleasure. He licked, caressed, moved his mouth against me, creating a dizzying friction. My bones liquefied. My nerve endings sizzled. I moaned, low and hungry, and the sound filled the room.

“Mmm…” I couldn’t speak, could only moan. The room around me ceased to exist. My second climax ripped through me, this one even stronger than the first. Making me arch and clench and scream. I flew back to the stars.

How long until I returned to earth, I didn’t know.

“I came twice,” I said, awed by that fact. Royce was standing now, staring down at me with fire in his eyes. “I came twice.”

“And that was only the appetizer,” he promised.

I could barely stand, but Royce released me and stalked toward his pants. “What are you doing?” I asked. “Get back here. We aren’t done.” Pause. “Are we?”

“Condom,” he said, suddenly holding me up again. “Not done, but can’t savor anymore. Too…much…” With a roar, he buried his cock inside me.

Pure pleasure rocked me, intense, consuming. I wrapped myself around him. He began to move deep, deeper still, lifting me up, pulling me down. Little by little, his rhythm began to quicken.

“I had no idea you’d be this wild once I got your clothes off.” His breath stroked my ear. “Thank you.”

I couldn’t help a grin as I rotated my hips, taking more of him inside. Oh, yeah. I gasped. “Well, I knew
you’d
be this good.”

His hand reached down between us and pressed. His fingers moved in a circular motion; his body slipped in and out of me, increasing in speed, increasing in urgency. Yes, faster and faster. Sure enough, my sensitized body responded, dampening, aching for another orgasm.

I clawed at his back, bit the cord of his shoulder and tugged at his hair. I was an animal, a Tigress, my true, wild nature suddenly released. He surged once more, hard, and I propelled over the edge. As my body spasmed for the third time, he growled low in his
throat and surged deep, so deep. Deeper than I’d thought possible. His body stiffened and he roared my name.

“Damn, Naomi,” he panted. “I think you almost killed me.”

With what little energy I had left, I sighed happily. Take that, Richard the Bastard.

W
HEN ENGAGED IN A WILD
, no-strings fling, how many times in one night was the couple in question allowed to make—uh, have sex? Once? Twice? Three times or more?

Hopefully the latter because Royce and I had just finished round three. On the bed, this time. I lay limp as a rag. Royce was beside me, the heat of his body like a warm blanket. A dewy sheen of sweat caused our bodies to cling and stick to the other.

I was naked, not an inch of covering over my body, and I realized I might never regain the strength to do anything about it. I knew my hair was a tangled mess, knew that my lips were slightly swollen. Knew, too, that pink scratches lined my breasts from his beard stubble. I probably resembled a beat-up prostitute. And there was no better way to look, to my way of thinking. A satisfied smile curled my lips.

I don’t smoke, hate cigarettes actually, but I would have liked one right then.

Royce anchored his weight on one elbow, hovering above me, his eyes heavy-lidded and seductive. Silver moonlight surrounded his tousled hair. I smoothed several strands from his face and stared up at him.

“Thank you for tonight,” I said.

His turquoise gaze suddenly glowed like the clearest ocean. “I’m the one who should be doing the thanking.”

I grinned. “You’re probably right.”

Chuckling, he rose from the bed. “Cocky girl.” His chuckle became a grimace, and he rotated his shoulders. As he padded into the bathroom, he said, “I think you did major damage when you threw your legs around my neck.”

“Big baby.” A cool blast of air wafted around me, and I forced my jelly-like arms to grab onto the sheet and pull it up to my chin. I heard a splash of water. Then silence.

He exited the bathroom with a wet washrag in his hand, saw me, and paused. “
Now
you’re shy?” he teased.

“Now I’m cold,” I said. If I were honest, I
was
beginning to feel a little self-conscious. This man had slept with some of the most beautiful women in the world. Models. Surgically enhanced heiresses. And now imperfect me.

“You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” he said, as if reading my mind. He grunted with pleasure as he settled beside me, then spent the next several minutes cleaning both of our bodies. Once the towel was discarded, he cuddled me to him, his body half covering mine.

I’d never been a cuddler. Hated it, in fact. I always felt pinned down, shackled—and not in a good way. But…I found that I loved it with Royce. The tender
ness. The illusion of caring. I didn’t want to move, could have stayed in his arms forever.

And that suddenly scared the living shit out of me.

My heart kicked into overtime, pounding sporadically in my chest. Being here with him like this felt too good, too…right. Was I…could I be—No.
No!
I absolutely refused to believe I was falling in love with him. This was a fling. Only a fling.

Emotions were not allowed.

Emotions meant a relationship. A relationship meant marriage. Marriage meant trusting, giving my heart totally and completely. And giving my heart eventually meant hurt, pain and perhaps betrayal. Not even my mom’s marriage was going to survive, and I’d thought their union unbreakable.

A cold sweat broke out all over my body; my breathing became shallow, ragged. I began to feel claustrophobic. A wave of dizziness assaulted me. A deafening ring filled my ears and my stomach cramped. I had to get out of here. Had to get away from Royce. Right. Now.

“I have to use the bathroom,” I blurted.

He untangled his limbs from mine. “Hurry back.”

I raced away. When the door locked behind me, I sucked in a panicked gulp of air. What was I going to do? I couldn’t stay here all night, but I couldn’t pick up my clothes from the floor and take a cab home, either.

I collapsed onto the toilet lid and hunched over, putting my head between my legs.
Breathe. Just breathe.
There was no reason to panic. I’d think of something.

How long I stayed like that, I don’t know.

“Are you okay in there?” he called.

“Fine,” I croaked.

When the ringing and dizziness subsided, I forced myself to stand and splash cold water over my too-pale face. “You don’t seem to worry when he’s inside you,” I told my reflection. “So get him inside you again and your worries will melt away. He’s your sex toy. Nothing more.”

With a deep breath, I stepped out of the bathroom and sashayed toward the bed. Royce was splayed out, rumpled and sexy, looking satisfied but concerned. My chest constricted at the sight of him. His torso was lined with scratches and bite marks.

“You sure you’re okay?” he asked, his tone dripping with worry.

“Yeah.”
He’s my sex toy. Nothing more.

“Come here.” My sex toy patted the empty space beside him.

“Do you want me again?” I asked hopefully.

“I want to hold you.”

Well, crap. I dragged my feet. Slipped in next to him. Wanted to snuggle up to him—what the hell was wrong with me—but remained a short distance away.
He’s my sex toy.
I frowned and turned my back to him. My stomach began to churn again. My palms began to sweat again.
He’s my sex toy.

“Naomi?”

Please don’t ask me if I want to spoon.
“What?”

“Is this about the condom?”

I paused. “What do you mean?”

“It broke that last time.”

My mouth went dry. My blood mutated into ice. Total and complete silence surrounded us as my world crumbled. Ohmygod. Oh. My. Freaking. God. My lungs quit working and another rush of dizziness slammed into me. “Tell me you’re joking. Please, tell me you’re joking.”

“I wish I could.”

I twisted to face him, meeting his gaze. “How the hell. Could that. Have happened?”

“Hey, I’m healthy. No reason for so much worry.”

“I’m glad to hear it, but what about the other thing, huh?” At the moment, I couldn’t say the
B
word. Couldn’t even think it.

He ran a hand down his face. “Aren’t you on the Pill?”

“No, damn it!” A horrible thought raced into my mind and my nostrils flared. “Is this your way of trapping me in a relationship? Because if so—”

“Hell, no.” He jolted upright, pinning me to the bed with the fierceness of his gaze. “I don’t have to resort to that kind of tactic to keep a woman.”

I believed him. I’d even known it, deep down, before the words had rushed out of my mouth. Some of my anger and panic eased, and I was able to identify another emotion, the barest glimmer, underneath the surface of everything else. An emotion I didn’t yet want to name.

My hand fluttered over my mouth, then dropped to my heart. “I’m sorry,” I told him. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

“I understand.” He nodded stiffly and eased down beside me. He tangled a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry, too. This has only happened to me once before.”

I licked my lips as images of Royce playing blocks with a child, another woman’s child, filled my mind. The tabloids had never printed a story about him being a father, but that didn’t mean it hadn’t happened. “Did the girl get—you know?”

“No.”

“Maybe you’re sterile,” I said hopefully.

“Thanks a lot.” Reaching behind himself, he folded his pillow in two and created a higher rest for his head. “Listen, I didn’t mean to spoil the mood, but I thought you knew. And if you didn’t, you needed to.”

“You’re right,” I sighed.

A pause.

“I really enjoyed being with you, Naomi.”

The words dangled like a lifeline, and I grabbed onto them for all I was worth. I didn’t want to even consider diapers and the
things
that wore them—I still wasn’t saying the
B
word. And I still didn’t want to identify the ridiculous emotion swimming so determinedly through my veins.