Some part of my brain was telling me that the storage closet was just two steps to my right and that the exit door was just beyond that. I knew my Rover was outside, and all three were safer than standing here almost in his embrace, but I couldn’t hear the warning over the pounding of my heartbeat. He bent toward me, his face serious. Even in the low light of the corner, I could see the gold flecks feathering out from the center of his eyes.

“I'm going to kiss you now.” His voice was deep and rough, and it matched the rest of his thoroughly masculine body.

“I know,” I whispered back. And I wanted that kiss from Gray, even though he ordinarily wouldn't be my type at all. I wanted it more than I wanted to breathe. When his mouth molded against mine, it felt like bliss—as if my whole cold body had been submerged into a warm bath. If I thought I had been engulfed before it was nothing like I felt at that moment. My entire world—my thoughts, my feelings, my senses—were full of him. I tasted the mint and hops on his tongue. I inhaled the scents of cinnamon and bergamot and ocean of his faint cologne into my airways. I felt the calloused palm on my waist and then lower against the exposed skin of my thigh. His dense muscles were drawn tight under his skin and the fabric of his t-shirt and he felt as strong as a citadel. The moan that had been building since he first backed me into the wall escaped. It had been so long since I’d had the touch of a man’s hand on any part of me, and I nearly wept at the pleasure of it.

Every square inch of my body felt sensitized, as if I’d been an unlit Christmas tree and I’d just been plugged in. I wanted to feel his hands all over, not just on that patch of thigh. I needed his touch in those secret places, those places I thought had calcified. I’d thought I’d been waiting for the smooth hands of an accountant but the longer, rougher fingers pushing the hem of my shorts up couldn’t belong to a man who worked in an office.

His tongue and mouth broke from mine to leave a hot, wet path from my mouth, across my jaw line, and down to my neck. My leg lifted of its own accord and he took it as a sign to hitch me up higher until both my legs either dangled off the floor or wrapped around him. I chose to wrap my legs around him and was rewarded with a thick hard column pressing into my sex. We both groaned at the contact and I could feel his sound against my neck. The reverberations sent minor shocks throughout my nervous system. Holding me up against the wall, he began thrusting against me rhythmically, every impact of his hips making me hotter and wetter than I thought I could get.

I gripped him tighter with my legs and dug my hands into his hair, using every bit of his body as leverage. He held me up with ease, as if I were a feather. One hand was under my right butt cheek and the other was exploring my left side, pulling out my T-shirt, only to find the tank underneath. Needing his mouth back, I tugged on his hair and he took the hint immediately. He fastened his lips over mine and we devoured each other, still rubbing our lower bodies against each other as the bass from the dance floor pounded the floor boards.

Whimpering, I begged in moans and small cries for more. A familiar but almost forgotten tension was winding its way from between my legs outward. All thoughts of storage rooms and hallways and strangers were lost in the swirl of bright lights bursting behind my eyelids.

“I got you, baby,” he growled against my mouth. “Just let go.” And so I did. I closed my eyes and let those long-dormant feelings wash over me, spreading from the inside of my legs to the nerve endings in my toes and fingertips and the very top of my head. And he kept grinding and grinding and grinding against me, whispering in my ear how I was the hottest thing he’d ever held, how he couldn’t wait to taste me, how he’d die if he couldn’t be inside me tonight.

CHAPTER THREE

Gray

I’D GONE INSIDE TO TAKE a leak and to look at the top shelf row of liquor to see what kind of celebration drinks I could buy the boys when I’d seen the little blonde bartender from the patio. Her hair was caught up in a high ponytail that swung like a rope down her back. I’d already caught myself staring at her several times throughout the night as the crowd at the bar, which was mostly dick, parted and closed like a peek-a-boo game. The glimpses they’d revealed weren’t half as interesting as the whole package. Standing about ten feet from me and caught in the grasp of another woman, the bartender had shot me a deer-in-the-headlights look. I couldn’t resist helping a sixty-year-old grandmother at the airport, and I had even less fight against the unspoken plea for assistance from a twenty-something beauty.

I abandoned my liquor hunting and headed over. I’d had no plans to lead her down the dark hallway and dry hump her to an orgasm because, as I told the Woodlands crew earlier, these types of bar hook ups were generally unsatisfactory. I’d thought to escort her back to the bar outside but when she paused and stared at me like she knew me, I felt a jolt. Suddenly I didn’t want to take her outside where there were other people—other men—who would look at her and want her. I’m not sure who turned down the dark hallway first, but it was the right place for me to taste her full lips and grip her long ponytail.

Her lips had felt as soft and suckable as I thought they would be. She tasted tart, as if she’d had a vodka lemon shot. The hot cavern of her mouth made me think of other hot, wet areas on her body and I wanted to explore all of them.

There wasn’t much thought in my head other than how kissing her wouldn’t be enough. At the very least, I needed to get my hand under those shorts or under her shirt. I had to touch more bare skin but her shorts only went up so far and under her shirt there was more damn fabric. I really wanted to rip those shirts up over her head and draw one delicious tit into my mouth.

Before I could get any closer to her, I’d felt a trembling in her legs and her breath had started to come in harsh, jagged pants. She was so turned on by just the kissing, just the press of our bodies together, that she was ready to come right then. And I wasn’t going to stop that. I pressed my hard-on with more force against her cotton-clad pussy and felt her explode.

Feeling her come apart in my arms just from kissing her made me feel like a giant, and it left me with a hard-on the size of California. Had I ever been a fool to say that a bar hookup wasn’t good? Maybe I just hadn’t had the right bar hookup. All my little rules about dating, hook ups, and women were somewhere in a puddle under my feet. There was only one thought in my mind now. I needed to find us some privacy—immediately. Desperate to lay her down on any surface, I pulled away from the wall, holding her against me. Her body was lax in its post orgasmic state. There was a door just to her right.

“Sam,” I whispered as gently as I could, not wanting to disturb her moment but desperate for some relief myself. “That room. Is it private?” Sam turned her head, still resting on my shoulder.

“Yes, storage room.”

I started for the door before she got past the word yes. “I need you bad, Sam. Once we’re inside, I’m going to strip off these shorts and stick my head between your legs and lap up all the juice your body just made for me.” She shuddered and clenched her legs tighter around me. She liked the dirty talk. I’d have to remember that. We got to the door, and I leaned down to open it, not wanting her to let go. “After I’m done eating you out, I’m going to—” I never got the rest of the promise out.

“Hey, Mrs. A.” A voice called from the end of the hall. “Mark’s asking for you.”

Sam jerked upright and pushed away from me. I let her drop to the ground as the words sunk in. Mrs. A as in Mrs. Anderson? I grabbed her left hand and raised it. Sure enough there was a fucking diamond on that hand and it was not a small piece of shit like some of the recruits bought at the local mall. “What the hell is this?” I asked, raising her hand between us. I never, ever cheated. I’d been on the other end of that shitty stick and wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy. Having discovered that I was making out with a married dude’s lady made me sick.

“It’s none of your business.” Her face paled when she saw the ring. Probably afraid that her dirty secret was going to come back to bite her in the ass. She tried to wrench her hand away but I had things to say to her.

“None of my business, my ass.” I got up right into her face. “You better hope your man doesn’t come in here tonight because I will not hesitate to fucking tell him that his woman has absolutely no morals. I do not appreciate being dragged into whatever sordid little thing you’ve got going on with your bar patrons. Next time you feel like cheating on your man, consider taking your ring off first. It’s a dead fucking giveaway.” I flung her hand away as if it was diseased. She might be. My skank of an ex had tried to climb back into my bed with syph between her legs. “Or better yet, just break it off and stop trying to climb every available dick you think might taste good.”

I stomped off before Sam could utter whatever excuses she was ready to vomit out. I was furious at her, but even more pissed off at myself. My dick was still as hard as steel, and it was aching from the lack of attention. It wanted me to run back to her, ignore the ring, and just let myself push inside what was probably a juicy pussy. She’d be a good fuck. Cheaters usually are.

If I’d taken a minute, just one minute, I could’ve easily checked out her ring finger but I was too busy staring at things like her lips and her chest and her ass. I was too busy fantasizing about grabbing that ponytail and wrapping around my hand while she rode me hard. The whole event just reinforced that bar hook ups were a shitty idea. Heck, I don’t think I’d mind sticking my dick in crazy so long as she was up-front and honest, neither of which applied to Sam Anderson.