Page 9 of Flash Point

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Liv was goingto do this. She was going to set aside every rational thought she possessed and have sex on a hotel rooftop with a perfect stranger.

Emphasis on perfect.

Zeke epitomized every erotic fantasy she’d ever had. From his dark lashes to his scruff-covered jaw to his superhero abs to his sun-kissed skin.

When he rose from the pool and stalked toward her, she figured fate had to be at work. Their paths had crossed three times in one night. That had to be some kind of metaphysical sign. Not that she followed such things, but there must be some pixie if-you-don’t-get-laid-tonight-there’s-no-hope-for-you dust in the air.

She had first noticed him in the hotel parking lot. Coming back from a workshop excursion, she had rested her head against the shuttle bus’s seat and stared out the window as their vehicle wound its way through the lot toward the drop-off location.

Zeke had exited his giant pickup truck at that precise moment, and her breath had literally caught in the back of her throat. The intense expression he wore as he dragged a bulging duffel bag from the cab had her twisting in her seat to keep him in sight.

By the time she shuffled her way off the bus, he’d disappeared inside the hotel. The keenness of her disappointment had been surprising. In that short stretch of time, she’d envisioned them sitting at a table for two, the soft glow of candlelight illuminating their faces, while they enjoyed an evening of flirtatious banter.

Reality had knocked her daydream into the proverbial trash can, so she soothed the sting with a drink. Many had accused her of having eyes in the back of her head, but not tonight. Tonight, she’d sat in inexplicable misery at the bar while her dream guy dined alone. Right. Behind. Her.

She’d been so unprepared for the discovery that, when she stood to leave and found his gaze on her, all her years of training for the unexpected had blinked out under the intensity of his bottomless brown eyes. Instead of making her fantasy come true, she’d chickened out and buzzed right by him with nothing more than a whispered happy birthday.

But the third time he entered her orbit, she’d sensed him the moment he stepped foot on this rooftop oasis. Had even pressed her face close to the pergola’s lattice to watch him stride toward the pool.

While he swam laps, her mind fired on fifty cylinders, working through scenarios and witty responses and logistics. She’d even crossed her fingers and silently chanted, Please join me. Please be single. Please be into women. Please like what you see.

When he’d left the pool and started her way, she’d experienced a moment of vulnerability. Initiating a one-night stand with a stranger came with so many risks. She knew them all. Yet, she could no more ignore his testosterone pull than a monarch could ignore the call of its winter home in the Sierra Madre Mountains of Mexico.

The monarch followed its instincts, and so had she.

When his big hands clasped her waist and she hooked her legs around his hips, she decided to always follow her instincts.

She took a moment to simply feel his nearness. Soak up the press of his hands on her hips, the waft of his breath over her damp shoulder, the soft skin protecting hard, delicious muscles.

She missed this connection, this anticipation, this . . . this loss of self.

Liv skimmed her fingers up Zeke’s biceps and over his shoulders until they reached his corded neck. If Callie could see her serious, responsible, lonely sister now, she’d be dancing a celebratory jig.

“So,” she said, her thumbs drawing idle circles in the water droplets beading on his skin.

He nuzzled her nose. “So.”

Her bold talk had brought them this far, but she had never been the aggressor in her relationships. She left that mindset at the day job. When in her lover’s arms, the only decision she wanted to make was slow and thorough, or hard and fast.

At the moment, she needed the latter. Needed to get past the upcoming anniversary of her husband’s death. Needed to put an end to four years of celibacy.

But she would make an exception to her no-decision rule, if that’s the price she had to pay for mind obliteration. A price she would happily pay with this man.

“I’m not interested in a weekend,” she said. “Only tonight.”

“Sounds good to me.” His mouth brushed hers. “Though, don’t be surprised if I try to change your mind.”

“Don’t be surprised when I say no.”

A slow smile curled his lips and softened his already unbearably sexy eyes. “Blackwells always love a challenge.”

Zeke Blackwell.

Any misgivings she had about hooking up with a stranger vanished at the confirmation of his identity. With his unusual first name, she had suspected this was Cameron’s brother. Now she knew. Knew she could put an end to her dry spell without worrying about getting killed in the middle of the night.

But it was Cameron’s brother. A complication. Another secret in her long list of secrets to keep.


Tags: Tracey Devlyn Paranormal