Sitting beside each other, I have a glass of wine and he has a scotch. He watches me take a sip and smiles, and my insides flood with a pleasing warmth.
“I’ve traveled this line with these men for several years, and we’ve never done anything like that.” Lifting his scotch, he sips, his eyes never leaving mine.
“What would you do on a night like this?”
“Sit here and drink. Maybe play cards. Smoke. Eventually drag ass to bed.”
That statement makes me wonder. “Where is your room?”
“Up front with the porter. They have a radio, and in case of emergencies, they like me to be close enough to take the lead and communicate with the authorities.”
I nod. “Because cell service is poor in the mountains.”
“And apparently I’m always on call.”
His full lips part, revealing straight teeth. Our glasses are half-full, but I don’t want to drink anymore. I don’t want to waste time. I’ll never see him again after tonight, and desperation drives me.
My chin lifts, and I place my hand on his forearm, standing out of my chair. “You’re always on call?”
His eyes move up and down my body, and he stands as well. “I can go off the radar for a few hours.”
The bill sits in a shiny brass tray on the bar, and he initials it. With that, we’re out the door moving quickly forward in the direction of his stateroom. It’s much closer than mine, and much smaller—about the size of a large supply closet.
A single bed lines the back wall under a high, square window. The walls are lined with wooden panel-doors I assume are closets.
“No bathroom?” I ask once I’m inside.
“Across the hall.” He crosses the threshold and slides the wooden door shut behind him.
I hear the click of the lock, and my insides turn to hot liquid. He tosses his blazer onto a chair, and I’ve just lifted my hand when he closes the space between us, pulling me to him and claiming my mouth in a deep kiss.
My nipples tighten, and a little noise aches from my throat. I clutch the front of his shirt, straining to rise higher, to push my body closer against his.
Large hands go to my ass, moving up to the small of my back, and everything disappears, burned up in the heat of my desire for him. I’m breathing fast, chasing his kisses. Our lips move over and over in time together, tasting and pulling.
Relaxing my hold in his shirt, I reach down to pull the belt holding my dress together. In a swish of thin fabric, it opens, falling away to reveal my black lace bra and thong panties. I’m not wearing hose, only black heels.
Fitz takes a step back, and my skin tingles as his eyes devour my body. His gaze is as potent as a touch. The bulge in his pants makes my pussy wet, and I shrug the dress off my shoulders, allowing it to fall in a puddle on the floor.
I step forward, closing the space between us and cupping my hand over his erection. His eyes darken, and he places his hands on my bare waist, sliding his thumbs over my stomach.
His light touch makes me shiver.
“What do off-duty heroes like to do?” My voice is a purr.
I want him to use me and abuse me like he did earlier. I want him to bend me over and take me from behind, spank my ass, and make me scream his name. I want to feel him everywhere I go for a week.
The muscle in his jaw moves back and forth as I stroke him. “I wouldn’t know.” His voice is thick. “I was never a hero, but I do hunt down the bad guys.”
Bad guys…
The words twist in my stomach, and I lower to my knees in front of him, unfastening the buckle of his belt. It might not be my favorite thing, but I want to do this for him. Guilt swirls in my chest, and it feels like a way to make amends, to say I’m sorry for what’s to come.
The way his breathing has changed, I can tell he wants it, too.
Lowering his fly, I lean back fisting his thick cock in my hand. A drop of liquid is on the tip, and I lean forward to lick it slowly, tracing my tongue around the sensitive head. My round eyes blink up to meet his, and his arm flies, his fist gripping the wall.
“Fuck, Lara.” He looks down at me, eyes glassy as I pull him into my mouth.