Page 3 of One Naughty Night

Chapter 2

Jax cradles me against his side, shielding me from the slight winter nip in the air. His fingers weave themselves through mine as he guides us away from the club toward the hotel next door…and my solitary night of freedom.

He opens the door, ushering me in first, but I balk. “I’ll, uh, just wait outside,” I stammer. My intuition, or paranoia, tells me secrets are better kept if you don’t walk in together to get the room of corruption. His brows crease in question, but I offer a reassuring smile and brush a hand down his cheek. “Really, I’m fine. Just hurry.”

“All right,” he concedes, not hiding his reluctance. “Wait right here, I’ll be five minutes,” he says, releasing my hand and catching me off guard when he twists my way, caressing my cheek and pressing me up against the building for a single, ravenous but swift kiss.

Before I can even collect my breath, he’s rushing into the hotel office. Damn, he can kiss, mere seconds more than long enough for your mouth, tongue, and the tips of your toes to know exactly who’s in charge. His ass does departures splendid favors as well, his strides sleek and gracefully masculine.

My body slouches from the loss of his overbearing presence and I run my tongue over my lips, savoring his minty taste until his return. I’m quick to remind myself that no matter how amazing that brief touch felt, tonight is not about romance. There will be no second encounter for us, no get to know each other calls and dates—he’ll give me what I need, how I need it, and I’ll keep it tucked away in a place all my own, replaying it in my mind’s eye whenever I so choose.

It will be my splendid secret that can never be taken from me, no matter how in control anyone else believes themselves to be.

The winter wind off the rumbling ocean picks up, forcing me to wrap my hands around my middle to find warmth.

“You should have a coat.”

I turn to find a ridiculously tall, muscular guy with the sweetest smile I can ever recall seeing standing just a few feet away.

“You’re probably right,” I reply softly, ignoring the curious new prickle along my skin.

“And you’re probably cold. Here.” He moves closer, unzipping his jacket and slipping it over my shoulders before I have time to insist it’s unnecessary.

“Thanks,” I say with a smile, soaking up the gush of his potent scent that came with the garment. “I’m fine though, really.”

“I agree.” He smirks, letting his eyes do a rapid sweep over me. “I’m Zach Reece, by the way.” He offers his hand, at least twice the size of my own, thoughtfully, and that prickle turns to a zing when we touch. “And you are?”

Can I really make myself say “Barbie” again? His green eyes, blond hair, and chivalrous gesture all scream of goodness, an all-American gentleman worthy of simple truths—consequences be damned. “My name is Stormy,” I admit on a mumble, dipping my head.

“Yeah, I can see that. Gray eyes swirling with thought and hair as dark as the sky right before the storm hits. Your parents chose perfectly.”

I peer up, flattered and beyond impressed by how much deep thought he injected into what anyone else would treat as a flash, obligatory response. His awaiting smile reveals a dimple that I instantly picture myself licking.

Which poses a huge problem, since my dark and mysterious fantasy is inside getting us a room as we speak.

“So, Stormy, may I ask why a beautiful woman such as yourself is standing outside a hotel, alone and in the cold?”

“Well, I—”

“All set,” Jax says as he reappears, twirling the room key around the end of one finger, the presumptuous grin of things to come lighting up his handsome face saving me from divulging that which needs to remain unsaid.

But something about Zach—not better or worse than Jax…just completely different—has me but a breath away from gushing out every question to which I’d love an answer.

Jax stills, taking in Zach, the flush of my cheeks, and the coat around my shoulders, then slowly rubs his scruffy chin in thought. It only lasts a brief moment before his expression alters from suspicious and surmising to cunning and shrewd.

“Hey, man.” He greets Zach in total opposition of what I was braced for, stepping forward to initiate the manly handshake ritual. “Jesus Christ, you an NFL player or what? How big a boy are ya?”

“I don’t know. How big’s a boy where you come from?” Zach quips back, not unfriendly but certainly challenging.

“Nothing like you.” Jax laughs. “You gotta be what—”

“Six-four, ‘bout 240,” Zach saves him the calculations, concluding the strangest interaction I’ve encountered to date.

“Hmm,” Jax hums, turning to me. “You ready?” He dangles the key in front of my face.

How unfair is life? In a few days, I’ll “belong” to someone more so than ever, even further, permanently ensconced in “their world,” a fate I’d rather die than endure. And yet here I stand now, in this very moment, between what I consider the best of both worlds. Dark to light. Playful, mysterious, and unashamedly sexy as fuck to wholesome, gentle, and elusively sexy as fuck.

Jax is all tattoos and sin, and I can literally picture him fucking me, bent over a table, until I can’t walk. Zach oozes protection and slow love making before he takes our children he adores out back to toss a ball around.

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