One Night (5 page)

“I do.”

She licked her lips again, her eyes on his hands. “Do I have to lick you, too?”

Oh, bloody hell. He was going to die by the end of the night. He should say no. He should do it himself. He held his arm out. “Yes, please.”

She held his wrist in between her fingers, her touch feather light. Then, without hesitation, she licked him. He shuddered, the urge to take her in his arms and taste her mouth again, overwhelming. He clenched his free hand into a fist, watching as she sprinkled salt on him.

She looked up, her eyes a liquid pool of emerald warmth, speckled with amber. “Ready?”

“Y-Yes.” Bloody hell, his blasted voice broke. Holding a shot glass out to her, he grabbed his and held it out for a toast. She didn’t take hers immediately, but rather stared at it mutinously, so he waved it under her nose again. “Trust me?”

“I’m so going to regret this in the morning.” She eyed the shot, let out a sigh, and took it despite her prediction. “And so are you.”

“Blimey, stop worrying so much.” He grinned, refusing to dwell on the possibility of a hangover. Besides, he’d have all day to sober up for opening night. “It’ll be worth it in the end.”

She took a deep breath. “Okay. Ready?”

“Yes. One. Two.” He paused and looked into her eyes, his breath catching at the sparkle of life he saw there. She might be protesting the shots, but she looked more alive right now than she had all night—except when he’d kissed her. She had looked pretty damned alive then, too. “Three.”

They licked their wrists, slammed their shots back, and sucked on their limes in unison. Pulling the lime away from her mouth, she grinned up at him and swiped her forearm over her chin to clean up a trickle of juice. “That was actually pretty good.”

A tiny piece of lime rested right below her lip, and he wanted nothing more than to kiss it away and taste the blend of alcohol and lime and
Lexi
. Instead, he settled for reaching forward and swiping it off with his thumb. When he brushed against her lower lip, she flushed and swayed closer. A flash of lust lit up her eyes, and the knowledge that she wanted him in the same way he wanted her hit him like a sucker punch.

Their gazes collided. “Justin?”

“Yes?” he asked, his heart skittering to a halt. What would she say? Would she admit she wanted him as much as he wanted her? Christ, he hoped so. If she didn’t, he just might have to kiss her and find out for himself if he was wrong. If she slapped him and left … he was wrong.

If she pulled him closer and touched her tongue to his … then thank fucking God.

“Can we do another one before we go? If I’m gonna do this, I’m gonna get a proper buzz going.”

The hope rising in his chest crashed back down. Forcing a smile, he motioned the bartender over. She came over carrying the tequila with the same smile on her lips. “Of course.”

They repeated the process of salting their wrists, but this time her tongue lingered on his wrist. So did her touch. He took a deep breath and they slammed back the shots. This time there wasn’t any lime on her mouth, but he brushed his thumb over her lip anyway.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured. At first he didn’t even realize he’d said it out loud. But when her eyes widened, he cursed inwardly.
Idiot
.

“Thank you,” she said back, her lower lip caught between her teeth.

She swayed toward him, her gaze latched with his. He cupped her cheek and stepped closer, breathing in her intoxicating scent, his other palm cupping her hip and tugging her closer. If she so much as stepped back from him, he wouldn’t touch her again. If she shook her head, or slapped him, he would apologize profusely.

Instead, she placed her hand on his chest and closed her fingers around his shirt. And, if he wasn’t mistaken … she damn well pulled him closer. And just like that, he fell arse over elbow into her arms.

He lowered his head, his lips descending to hers so slowly he could swear a year had passed before they touched. He wanted to give her the chance to tell him no—to refuse him if she wanted. Give her the chance he hadn’t given her outside, before he knew about her past. But she lifted her chin and met his lips with a tiny sigh … and he got lost in heaven. It was a simple kiss. A mere touching of their lips. Tamer than the kisses he’d shared with his costars on stage—and yet the most moving he’d ever had.

His heart stuttered when she sighed into his mouth, and she placed her small hands on his chest. He felt like he could give her the world, if only he had enough time. And he really wanted that time, even though she hadn’t promised him any. His grip on her hip tightened, and he ran his tongue over the entrance to her mouth.

She parted her lips, letting him inside, and clung to him tightly. Her tongue glided against his, and he groaned into her mouth. Christ, but the hold she had on him already was honestly frightening. He knew, without a doubt, that she was the type of woman a man would lay his life on the line for.

She deepened the kiss, her hands curling around his neck and yanking him closer forcefully. She rubbed her hips against his, brushing her soft belly against his cock. Bloody hell. Underneath her stockbroker exterior, Lexi was made of pure and unadulterated passion. It took all of his self-control not to throw her against the wall and let his hands explore every inch of her body. But this wasn’t the time or the place for that.

Reluctantly, he pulled free of her hold.

Sucking in a deep breath, he met her eyes. “I know you’re still grieving for your fiancé, and you don’t want anyone in your life right now. I get that. And respect it. But if we kiss again … I’m bringing you home with me for more than some blasted fireworks.”

 “And if I want you to?” She nibbled on her lower lip. “If I want to stop thinking for a little while, and just feel? You
did
promise me a distraction … ”

She spoke so quietly he could barely hear her—but he heard
that
. “Then kiss me again, and I’m yours.”

Her eyes flashed, and then …

And then she kissed him.

As soon as their lips broke apart, he grabbed her hand and towed her to the door. He knew she was only going with him to bury the pain she still felt from the loss of her fiancé, and yet he couldn’t bring himself to care right now. At all. If she ended up leaving him with a heart that had been slightly dented, then so be it. It was a risk he would be more than willing to take. If she wanted him, then he didn’t care how or why.

All that mattered was she
wanted
him, and he wanted her, too.

Blessedly, he lived right around the corner from the restaurant. They made it home through the crowds in record time, and she followed him with flushed cheeks and complete silence. He half expected her to let go of him and bolt in the opposite direction before they made it back to his flat. But as he climbed the stairs and went into his place … she followed him.

He unlocked the door, let her go inside first, and then bolted the door behind them. Leaning against the cool steel, he locked his gaze on her. She hugged herself and looked at her shadowy surroundings, then blinked up at him. “This is a nice apartment.”

“Thanks.” Scanning his own place, he tried to envision what she saw. Lots of grays and pale blues. And brown. No bright colors or splashes of red. He dropped his keys on the table by the entrance, switched on the light, and took a step closer to her. “Are you absolutely sure you want this? That you won’t be cheesed off in the morning?”

She lifted her chin. “Yes. I don’t really know what cheesed off means, but I won’t be. But don’t read anything into it. I just want … I need … ”

“A distraction?” He stopped directly in front of her, his hands closing around her waist. “A way to forget your worries?”

“Yes.”

“Then you’ll have it.”

She’d asked. She’d come home with him. And yet … he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was taking advantage of her. He couldn’t shake the bloody guilt. And there was the matter of him swearing off one-night stands.

But did it
really
count as one if he had every intention of seeing her again?

He hesitated, wanting to kick himself in the nuts for it, but unable to stop his conscience from voicing itself. “But I don’t want to take advantage of you. You’re still in love with—”

“Not tonight. Not now.”

She rose on tiptoe and fused her lips to his, her tongue immediately delving inside his mouth. He closed his hands around her waist, picking her up and knocking her back against the wall like he had wanted to do at the bar. Her legs closed around him, and he could feel her heat through his pants. The image of them clasped together like this hadn’t left his mind since the thought popped into his head, and the reality far surpassed his expectations.

Her legs around him. Her mouth on his. He wanted nothing more than to take her here. Against the wall. Hard. His need was that strong—but he couldn’t treat her so callously.

She deserved more.

Her fingernails dug into his shoulders, and he rolled his hips against her while devouring her mouth. She tasted so damn good. He felt like he had been waiting his whole life to taste her, as opposed to a few measly hours. Forcing his lips away from hers, he nibbled on her throat, dropping lower and lower with each gentle bite. She wriggled in his arms, arching her head back against the wall.

She fisted her fingers in his hair, yanking just enough to provide a twinge of pain to the pleasure rocking his core. She urged him lower, and he closed his mouth over the spot right above her breast. Right over her heart—the same heart which belonged to another. The heart that would never be his. Wait … where had that thought come from?

He shook his head, forcing himself not to focus on what he couldn’t have, and shouldn’t even want.

Running his hands over her hips, and up her waist, he then closed them around her breasts. She moaned and tugged his head back up to hers, and their lips met again. Every time he kissed her, she tasted better. More addictive. As if he would never—
could
never—get enough of her. He ran his thumbs over her hard nipples, teasing her with the barely there touch. She arched against his hand, her teeth scraping against his lower lip from the force of their kiss.

He couldn’t wait another second to get her naked. To see all of her, bared for him and him alone. Dropping his hands from her breasts, he bunched her shirt up in his hands at her lower back, urging her to hold onto him. Once she wrapped her body around him—oh,
hell
, but that almost sent him over the edge of his barely there self-control—he carried her back into his bedroom, never relinquishing his hold on her lips.

Her legs tightened around his waist, and she moved wantonly against his cock. Kicking the bedroom door open, he lowered her to his bed and fell on top of her. He slid his hands under her tank top. He loved the fact that she didn’t wear a bra. In his opinion … the less obstacles to getting her naked, the better.

Desire crashed through him with the force of a tidal wave. His hands immediately closed over her breasts again, and she whimpered into his mouth. Her small noises urged him on, and he rolled her nipples between his thumb and finger, tugging gently. She practically growled at him, arching into his hand for more.

She just might be the death of him, but he’d damn well die smiling.

“Justin, please,” she panted.

She gripped his biceps then trailed her fingers down his arm. When she reached his wrist, she curled her hands around them and held on. As if she feared she might float away without him there, keeping her secure. That small, intimate touch sent his heart racing. Funny how such silly things could mean so much, and yet bring him back to reality at the same time.

He released her lips and rested his head on hers. There it was again—the plaguing guilt nagging at him. “I’m going to give you one more chance to go home untouched.”

She shook her head. Reaching out, she grabbed the hem of his shirt and tugged it over his head. “Don’t want a chance to leave. Stop being so damn honorable and put those lips to better use.”

His heart galloped ahead at full speed, and something inside of him shifted and gave way for her. This might be nothing more than a means to an end for her—but to him? This meant something. Exactly what … he wasn’t sure. But he wanted to take away her pain. If it’s all she wanted him for, then he would deliver.

Even if he wished, deep down, he could be more.

Chapter Four

If anyone could make Lexi forget everything, it was Justin. His hands roamed over her body, leaving fire in their wake. And oh, how she burned for him. She knew tonight wasn’t
just
about that. Knew she was making excuses to hide the real reason she was here in his bed: because she just couldn’t resist him. He had some weird kind of hold on her that made it next to impossible to say no, to walk away.

Justin’s mouth slid over the curve of her breasts, following the line of her tank top, and she clung to him. Everywhere he touched ached for more, and everywhere he hadn’t touched yet begged for his attention. She had never felt so damn needy before.

She ran her fingers down his hard abs, marveling at how defined they were. Hot damn, the man was perfect. Every single muscle was formed as if he was carved by an artist’s meticulous touch. When her fingers swept over the skin above his pants, he hissed and tensed.

Emboldened by his reaction, she lowered her fingers and cupped his erection. He rocked his hips into her then vacated the bed faster than she could blink. He looked down at her, his eyes blazing. His hands fell to his buckle, and he slowly unclasped his belt—his eyes on hers the whole time.

She swallowed hard, her fingers itching to touch him again. As he lowered his pants, she lifted onto her elbows and pressed her thighs together. She ached for him in a way she couldn’t remember ever feeling before. When he stood in front of her without a stitch of clothing on, she couldn’t look away.