“I’m not worried. A lot,” she said with her best cheeky grin, which was usually termed irresistible by males and females and crotchety landlords. The man was going to be toast. “But you know, it’s New York, and there are all sorts of people out there. Bad people. People that will take advantage of you. They’ll milk the cab fares, make you change tires, kidnap you rather than let you go home. It’s a rotten city.”
“I thought you loved the city.”
She lifted her shoulders, taking in the way his eyes rested on her chest, clearly noticing the way her nipples had perked up in response. “Well, sure, I love the city, but I’m tough. I know what’s what. You’re a—a city virgin.”
It was awkward and stupid, and the most idiotic-sounding sexual come-on that she’d ever uttered.
“Not a city virgin anymore,” he remarked, equally awkward-sounding, but his eyes weren’t awkward, or stupid. They were pulling her into dark, sexy places. Places that Windsor knots shouldn’t know about.
“So, uh, what if somebody else comes along, and wants to take advantage of your generous nature and your tenderhearted Texas ways?”
His mouth curved up, not so tenderhearted. Some of the arrogance was back, but she didn’t mind it. Much. “Maybe I’d let them,” he told her, his voice pitching low, right along with her stomach. Again.
“See? What did I tell you? You’ve just proved my point here.”
“What are you going to do now?” he asked again.
The first rays of dawn were reflecting off the windows, the rain made everything smell fresh and new and the city was coming alive. It was contagious, infectious, and she knew that she wasn’t going home. Not yet.
“Now? I think I’m going to pick up somebody,” she told him, lightheaded and giddy, pleased with the dawning life in his eyes, not so lonely anymore.
Tyler’s suitcase landed on the sidewalk with a loud thud. “What if he’s a criminal?”
“I can read his eyes,” Edie answered, sure and certain. She still didn’t believe in one-night stands, but if she worked very hard, she could convince herself that staying with him, laying with him, making love with him was in his best interest. The ultimate pick-me-up, in a literal sense.
“What about his eyes?”
Edie glanced over at the X-rated doors and then shook her head because there were some lies that she wouldn’t perpetuate. This was one. “He belongs in the Hilton, not the Belvedere.”
Undeterred, Mr. Hilton touched a finger to her mouth, sending the touch of a thousand silk feathers trickling down her spine. For the first time, Edie considered the idea that she might have misjudged him.
Nah.
Before her world completely tilted out of control, Edie picked up his suitcase and they fought over it all the way inside.
But did the Belvedere Hotel give one good goddamn about Dr. Tyler Hart?
No. To the stuck-up clerk at the front desk, he was just another pervert needing to get his rocks off, and yes, that was true, but there were many other phrases that could have been used. Better phrases. Less demeaning phrases.
In the end, Edie grabbed his bag, grabbed his hand and they were directed to the empty bar, which didn’t serve alcohol until noon because of some antiquated liquor laws.
In New York.
“I’m sorry,” she told him, apologizing for the eightieth time. “I’d offer my place, but the exterminator is scheduled today.”
“It’s probably for the best,” he assured her, trying to make her feel better, trying to make him seem not so much the world’s biggest rebounding cad, which unfortunately, wasn’t a far cry from the truth.
“Probably,” she agreed, which immediately ticked him off because goddamn it, he was a prize. He was a sexual stud. And perhaps,
perhaps,
he might be deficient in the romance quotient, but didn’t saving lives on a thrice-weekly schedule count for something?
Oh, yeah. Not to her.
She must have noticed the frustration in his eyes, which wasn’t his intent by the way, because she took his hand and rubbed her thumb along his palm. “I would have loved to have had sex with you.”
She used the past tense. “Thank you,” he answered politely, fighting the urge to drop down on his knees and beg. God, he needed sleep. No, he needed sex.
“I could wait around until the room is ready….”
“No—” He thrust his hands through his hair, and clunked his head down on the table, hoping he hadn’t just concussed himself.
“We could find another hotel,” she offered.
“No. There comes a time when you have to throw in the towel,” he said, feeling the cold wood against his cheek. Then, Dr. Tyler Hart, the man who never gave up, fell into a much-needed, dreamless, sexless sleep.
Feeling guilty, Edie went to the clerk at the front desk and used her best Manhattan sophisticate smolder. “I know you don’t have a room, but my lover is exhausted and I was hoping we could find some place where he could sleep. He just flew in.”
“You’re with Dr. Hart?”
Doctor? A Ph.D.? Really. Suddenly, she perked up. He was like her. A student of higher learning. She should have seen it early. He, so unassuming and humble. Not caring about credentials or building dedications.
Now she definitely had to have him.
Driven by new inspiration and renewed lust, Edie counted out one-two-three-four Ben Franklins under the clerk’s greedy eyes. The bills were crisp, directly from the bank next door that she hit a few minutes ago because cash always solved a myriad of problems. Another lesson learned from Dr. Jordan Higgins, who regularly gave her cash in lieu of family dinners or atta-girl pats on the back.
Edie leaned on the mahogany counter, batting her eyelashes shamelessly. “Can you do something? Please?”
The man looked left, then right, before nodding once and sliding the bills into his pocket. “The theater is empty. There’s a bed in there.”
“Theater?” Perhaps some of the shock came through in her voice.
The clerk’s look all but shouted, “amateur,” and Edie shook off her nerves. She was Edie Never-Say-Die Higgins, who was unafraid of nothing, who walked away from nothing, who currently had a half-dead Ph.D. that needed some Edie-love.
Amateur, my ass.
“Won’t the voyeurs be disappointed in mere sleeping? Although later, perhaps…” she trailed off, brushing her knuckles on her shirt.
The clerk merely yawned. “No one is watching. The theater viewing rooms aren’t open until eleven a.m. The city has ordinances.”
“A pity.” Edie sighed, feigning disappointment, idly glancing into the candy bowl. “I was looking forward to the experience—the freedom of giving myself over to the rites of passion in front of strangers. Oh, well. I suppose this will have to do.”
She took another look into the bowl. That wasn’t candy. It was condoms.
Condoms.
She picked up one, noticed the man’s raised eyebrows, and then went back for seconds and thirds, stuffing them into her pocket.
The clerk penned some numbers on a slip of paper and slid it across the desk. “Here’s the keycode. Through the double-doors, past the Medici hallway.”
Medici hallway? Edie nodded, then pressed her fingers to her lips and kissed them, Medici style.
“We have a room, love. A very quiet room. So much more comfortable than this table. So much more private than this table. Wouldn’t you like that? I would like that, Tyler. I want to see you, I want to feel you. I want to taste you.”
One eye opened because when tasting was involved, reality was always better than a dream.
Edie.
And at that moment, he knew, deep in his cerebral cortex, that his dreams had never been this stunning.
Wanting to taste her, needing to taste her, he took her mouth and kissed her, energy flowing through him, his body firing awake in an instant. Oh, yes. This was so not Cynthia.
Edie.
She kissed him, her tongue pushing inside his mouth. Not shy. Not genteel. Never again would he hate New York.
Tyler locked his arms around her, pushing her shirt up, wanting to do more, but she laughed, put a hand to his chest.
“Follow me…” she trilled, but Tyler wasn’t sure why he needed to. They had space here. They had privacy here. What more was required?
“But…” he protested, stumbling on his words, afraid that some new disaster lurked around the corner only waiting to knock him down again.
“Tyler,” she said, and then he watched as she unzipped her fly, and placed his hand there. Tyler followed.
“Pants,” he muttered, and voilà, her jeans were gone. She fumbled at the perfectly tailored wool slacks and marveled at how soon they disappeared. He pulled her shirt over her head, and pushed her back into the pillows, his mouth feeding on one breast, pulling, sucking, and she pressed her hips against his, because…of this.
This.
His questing fingers delved low in her panties, finding her, pushing into her, matching the persistent pressure of his dazzling mouth. Her hips followed rolling up toward his exquisite fingers, riding the strokes, because he knew exactly where to touch her. Exactly how to please her.
Tyler buried his face against her neck and sighed happily and Edie memorized that tiny sound because she knew in her heart that Tyler did not sigh happily. She’d done that for him, and she was going to make him gasp, make him come.
The first whisper of the dawn was new and full of possibilities and her hand searched the covers, finding the condoms, grasping one, and trying to rip it open. Sensing her frustration, possibly due to her colorful vocabulary, he took it from her, and she could feel him moving, adjusting and then…
Yes.
The aching in her stilled when he filled her, so thick, so hard, so good.
So perfect.
The air burned, her whole body flush with the heat, until he rose above her, putting a long distance between them. Those steady eyes settled on her face, studying her before he sighed again. Not so happily this time.
“Why are you here?”
Edie froze at his responsible tone, wondering if this was a trick question, hoping it wasn’t because he felt so good, so right. But, alas, all that goodness slid out of her. Alone again.
Foolishly, she pushed at his hair even though it was too short to be in his eyes. She wanted to touch the dark strands that hung low on his face. Wisely she knew that this wasn’t the time.
Dammit.
Edie sighed, not so happily, either. Although she couldn’t blame him. In fact, she should have expected it. In fact, before he had made her forget that she expected it, she had expected it. And prepared for it, as well.
Not so prepared now, are we?
She smiled her fly-by-night smile that said no big deal, and pulled out the standard Edie Higgins script. “We’re having a connection, a momentary joining of two bodies who have stumbled across each other, groping in the darkest of nights, moving toward some feeling of soulful humanity.”
“Fuck,” he muttered, rolling off her and her soulful humanity.
“Well, that is one way of stating it. Two animals copulating in a primitive ritual of procreation and species sustainability. Although the condom takes care of most of that.”
He turned his head, and met her eyes, and she hated the maturity there, the practical wisdom that saw past her words.
“Why are you here?”
Edie rolled to her side of the bed, her hands knotted in the ruby spread. “I wanted to feel better. That’s all. Sue me.”
The room was so quiet that she could hear the exhale of his lungs, the shifting against the covers, away from her. Rejecting her.
Slowly she opened her eyes, watching them in the mirrored ceiling above the bed, her eyes a little too bright, her smile a little too flip and her hair a little too casually messed. There were so many differences between them, so why did it hurt? Consistency wasn’t a fixture in Edie’s life—unless someone needed her for something. Everything in her life was part of the universal economy of bartering. Something given, something taken in return. Now Tyler wanted to disrupt her system. Tyler, the scrupulous keeper of scruples. Even without the trench coat and tie, he was who he was. Not the sort who traded favors easily. His chest was broad, strong. His legs reliable, the kind that changed tires in the rain. Legs that didn’t collapse no matter how much shit she piled upon him.
“I don’t want you to owe me.” His words were spoken quietly, but they were a lot better than what she had imagined. Edie rolled a few inches closer. “Why are
you
here?” she asked, curious what had finally broken him down. Wounded pride? Exhaustion?
Or Edie?
“It’s my room,” he answered, which was no answer at all. Gingerly he lifted himself on his elbows, scanned the velvety bordello furnishings and then collapsed back into the pillows. “I’d hoped it was my room. Is this my room?”
“For now,” she hedged, not wanting to say more, waiting for him to say more, which he didn’t.
“Why are you here?” she asked again, needing to know. People were simple, motivated by basic pursuits. They didn’t forgo pleasure easily. They didn’t forgo happiness—usually. Before she laid down her cards, he was going to have to have a little more skin in the game. The important kind, not the naked kind.
Tyler moved closer and touched her, skimming one gentle finger down her arm. It was a nice touch, but a careful touch. “I want this. I want you. For most of this night, I’ve willingly followed you through hell, panting like a dog. I imagined you above me, below me, surrounding me. I’m pretty much at the end of my rope.”
As declarations went, it was first-rate, but the truth was in the deeds. “So why did you stop?”
“Why are you here?” he countered.
It was easier to stare up at the mirrored ceiling and look into her own manic eyes than to tell him the truth. The room was full of illusions of infinite spaces, of walls that didn’t exist. It didn’t matter what she said. It didn’t really matter why she was here, or why he was here. The fact was, they were. Two people primed for sex, sharing a stage set for sex.
So why waste it talking?
This time there were no doubts when she climbed onto the welcoming hips. Dark power pulsed through her as she pushed her fingers through his mass of dark hair, mussing it nicely. Next, she leaned low, her mouth brushing his, her breasts brushing against him, a touch that she so badly needed right now.
“For this,” she whispered, skimming her tongue across the seam of his mouth, meeting his lips.
“For this,” she said, cupping his large hands over her breasts, reveling in their warmth.
Then she lowered herself on top of his cock, clenching tightly, sighing deep. “For this,” she purred.
Slyly she began to rock, watching his eyes—serious, steadfast—and feeling her muscles quiver with pleasure as much as exhaustion. Her smile turned wanton, the same thing that all men craved, but his gaze stayed steady. Quickly she looked away.
Edie wanted to move fast, race for the orgasm, but his hands locked around her, setting a slower pace, a seductive pace, and in spite of herself, Edie felt herself relaxing, falling into the rhythm. There was nothing but the heavy fill and release.
He was as silent as she, one hand brushing against her lips, and she took his finger in her mouth, pleased with the intense flash in his eyes, pleased with the sudden jerk of his hips.
Weakness at last.
It was in everyone, even the buttoned-up scrupulous types who didn’t belong here.
Showing his true colors at last, he rolled her on her back, raising her legs, pushing deep into her. Her gaze drifted over his shoulder to the ceiling, watching them, watching him move inside her. With each thrust, she could see the sure flexing of his buttocks, the strong arch in his back and the vulnerable bend in her legs. Legs that were open and begging to be used.
She didn’t have to wait long. Tyler rose up higher, moving faster, his big chest heaving, and she watched one drop of sweat slide down his torso. It was like flying, the pressure building inside her. She was so close to coming, so close to the end. All she needed was one inch higher, one minute further, but then…
Tyler slid out of her, glancing up at the ceiling, and there was a steeliness in his jaw, a rigid bend in his spine. Unbreakable. Impassable.
No.
His hands were rough as he spread her legs farther apart, not so controlled anymore. She waited, breathlessly watching as he lowered his head between her thighs. Men didn’t pleasure Edie. Edie pleasured men, but not here. Not with him.
When his mouth settled on her, the room began to spin, and her fingers reached out, looking for purchase. He was all that she had. Her hands locked at the base of his neck, first pushing him away, then pulling him close, anticipating each lick.
This wasn’t fair. Sex was pleasure. It was the giving and taking of parts, not identities, not hearts, not souls. It scared her that he wanted things from her. Apparently Tyler Hart was not content with parts.
Nice
men never were. It was why she usually avoided them, until tonight. Until this.
Mindlessly she rolled her head from side to side and the red covers of the bed seeped into her blood, into her mind. Her fingers clenched until she knew they would break, but his relentless assault continued, and she heard the plaintive echoes of her own gasps, her pleas, until she stopped fighting, because in the end, it was Edie who always gave way.
Her body screamed, muscles shuddering, but he wouldn’t leave her alone. When the orgasm came, it broke her in two.
Tyler moved up her body, and she knew there was more, it was there in his face, the determined glint in his dark eyes, no longer scholarly or unshakable. Now he was a man with one goal. Her. Edie took a sharp breath, her blood starting to rise, and instinctively her body arched toward him, surrendering to the call. He took her, no longer cool, no longer controlled, and she smiled up at him, urging him to take his pleasure.
Of course he did, and Edie welcomed the dark pain, the sharp slap of skin and sweat. She watched the steely gaze melt under fire, just as she had hoped.
His powerful thrusts never slowed, never faltered, taking her to climax simply because he could. She stopped feeling, stopped falling, and simply let herself ride.
This was no more than pleasure, no more than parts.
Finally, when his body was slick with sweat, when the scarlet spread had darkened to a well-used red, when the musky smells of sex surrounded them, Tyler rose on his knees, muscles frozen, and it was the ultimate turn-on, the ultimate aphrodisiac.
With a sly smile, Edie watched as Dr. Tyler Hart, man of trench coats and scruples, lost them all and fell to earth.