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  “Wait,” she whispered, feeling more empowered by the second. “I just want it…naughty. Can you give me that?”

  When she lightly squeezed his penis, he made a strangled noise low in his throat.

  Then, before she knew what was happening, she got her wish.

  As if wanting to regain some kind of control, too, he whipped her around until her front was flush against the smooth wall. Just as efficiently, he took her hands and raised them, resting his own arms against hers, his chest against her back. She felt him fighting for oxygen, felt his arousal insinuating itself between her legs.

  Stimulated, she rocked back against him, and he threaded his fingers through hers. The texture of his rough palms over her softer skin was shocking, digging into a primitive part of her that banged out a jungle rhythm.

  “I didn’t think you’d be up for naughty,” he said against her ear. His words were hot, moist. “Not even when you opened your door to me.”

  I didn’t think so, either, she thought.

  “What did you expect?” she managed to gasp, cheek against the wall.

  Slowly, he slid his hands down her arms. Her dress stuck to her with emerging sweat, and his own perspiration mixed with the air, carnal, overcoming her, braiding into her.

  “From you?” he whispered. “I expected lemonade on a humid day.”

  He eased his hands to the front of her body, where his fingers taunted her breasts. Lucy’s legs gelled, but he held her up by inserting a thigh between her legs. She tingled there, her clit assuaged by the contact.

  “I expected,” he continued, squeezing her breasts, “root-beer candy from a sweets store’s barrel.”

  She couldn’t stand this: the teasing words, the building pressure thudding to get out.

  “And what did you get?” she couldn’t help asking, hoping he saw the new Lucy and not the old, drab one.

  I’m really doing this…

  He paused, as if in thought, then with a more forceful touch, he coaxed his hands down her ribs, her belly. Her muscles jumped, shuddering and breaking her down bit by bit.

  “I’m not certain what I’m getting,” he rasped, “but I’m intent on finding out.”

  With that, he got down to his knees, reaching under her dress at the same moment to drag her undies with him. At the whisper of air between her legs, Lucy shivered, exposed.

  And it was about time.

  As she stepped out of her underwear, she wondered what he was going to do. She suspected…wished…

  From below, he guided her to spread her legs for him, and she shakily obliged, leaning her arms fully against the wall because she knew she would wither any second.

  Slowly—damn it, so slowly—the cowboy traced his fingers up the inside of her calves, over the backs of her knees.

  Lucy flinched. She even winced, every cell pulsating in straining greed.

  When is he going to…?

  Frantic and trembling, she braced herself while he traveled his palms up the backs of her thighs and under her dress, giving him a view of her bare ass.

  He kept her skirt raised with one hand while caressing a cheek with his other.

  “Look what these long legs lead to,” he whispered, his tone battered.

  She’d never thought of her legs as long, just…gangly. And she’d never known that a man could comment so reverently about any part of her body.

  “You can’t even see anything in this room,” she said into her arm, which had come to cradle her head while she held herself up.

  Quaking now. Jeez, she was shivering so badly that she thought she might burst into a shower of static.

  “Maybe I can’t see all that well,” he said, “but I can sure as hell feel.”

  He traced his fingers under the crease of her cheek, then pushed up, as if he couldn’t get enough of her curves.

  Just when she thought she couldn’t take any more, he urged her to spread her legs wider, and he kissed the backs of her knees, then delved under her dress to worship the inside of her thighs. He licked her, no doubt tasting the juices that were now coating her skin.

  It felt as if she were being wedged open from her core outward. Split apart, torn and anguished. But in a good way.

  Such a good way.

  As his fingers parted her cheeks, her folds, Lucy stiffened, knowing what was coming now.

  Please, have it be coming now…

  His tongue made contact with her, and she cried out, slumping against the wall.

  But his strong hands kept her up as he deepened this particular kiss, his tongue laving her, seeking out her clit and circling it.

  Can’t believe this is happening…

  Just as she was on the edge of scratching at the wall with pent-up, drenched tension, he adjusted position, maneuvering himself faceup and bringing her down until she was on her knees, over his mouth as he lay back on the floor.

  By this time, her eyes had adjusted to the dimness of the room, and she watched the vague sight of him clutching her hips, then guiding her the rest of the way down to kiss her between the legs again. Spellbound, Lucy lifted her dress, wanting to see him loving her, even if it mostly meant conjuring the rest of the images in her mind’s eye.

  He pulled at her, sipping and taking his leisurely time, and she braced one hand against the wall, keeping her balance as she started tearing in half again. She churned with the cadence of his tongue, the sucking of her lips into his mouth.

  As she reared back her head, she lost herself in the seething crevice that her torn body created. Her mind went dark, numb and blank as she felt herself falling backward, not knowing what she was diving into as she spread her arms and parted her lips in an ecstatic smile she’d never believed herself capable of…

  Then, without warning, she blew apart, flying up, high, so high as she emerged from that crevice…

  A higher consciousness, a new birth.

  A new Lucy.

  As she rode the pain, the air, she groaned. It could’ve been for a minute. Maybe an hour…

  All she knew was that, at some point, he picked her up, his breath coming harsh and quick. She pressed against him, wrapping her legs around his waist as he fumbled with his wallet, then a package, then his fly.

  He knocked a lamp off a table, and she found herself sitting on the glossy surface, desperate for breath and for him, knowing that if he didn’t come inside her soon she was going to explode again.

  She helped him sheathe himself, then guided him to her beating sex—drenched and ready.

  He thrust into her, and she heaved in an excited gasp at his size, at his arousal filling her so thoroughly. Pumping, straining, he kept going deeper, and she arched against him, reaching one arm back to grab the edge of the table so she could take him harder, longer.

  He answered her churn for churn. Each jab dug into her deeper, pulling her out of body, inch…by inch…by…

  When she climaxed for the second time, it was as if she’d been let out of a cage, free to fly toward the sun until the tips of her wings were scorched.

  Then she fell once again, free, rushing toward the ground—

  As she tumbled off the table, the cowboy caught her, easing her the rest of the way to the floor, where he strained, then spilled his come with a final push.

  Then he collapsed at her side, and Lucy’s first instinct was to hold him close, to keep him inside her.

  But she knew better this time.

  Part of the fantasy was to let go.

  JOSHUA HAD FALLEN to pieces at his shattering climax. Then wonderfully, miraculously, as he began putting himself back together again, he finally found the man he had been looking for.

  The man he had lost back home.

  He grasped for a regular semblance of breathing, of existing. Yet the second his partner slid off his cock, he felt everything disappear.

  He wanted to reach for her, to grab her and hold on to the sweat-soaked serenity of the moment. He wanted to keep it all—the power, the electricity, the connection
that had just brought him back to life.

  But she had already moved away from him, smoothing down her dress in the dim light allowed by the curtains.

  When his adjusted sight focused enough for him to see that she had even gone a step farther, running her hands over the carpet while searching for her panties, his chest tightened.

  What had he expected? He’d all but asked for easy, quick sex, and he had gotten it. In spades.

  So why did it feel so hollow now that it was over?

  Why hadn’t the healing lasted?

  Joshua knew what he needed: more. He wanted to bang her again, to get back that fleeting feeling of being all man, all dominant male again.

  “Leaving already?” he asked.

  “I can’t leave. This is my room, remember?”

  He could barely see her easing the panties up her legs. Those long, beautiful legs.

  Just thinking of her body, her soft skin, her wet vaginal passage, made him stir. And this reminded him that he was still wearing the condom, so he rose to dispose of it.

  When he came back, his fly zipped but his emotions hardly as restrained, she was standing near the door, having flicked on the light switch. A broken lamp littered the floor, and he recalled having knocked it over in the heat of the moment.

  It shed dim, off-kilter illumination, breeding shadows from the ground up. The effect was unsettling, especially when it was coupled with the cool sheen of the brunette’s demeanor.

  She didn’t seem unfriendly at all. No, just…done. It took a moment for Joshua to realize that.

  His hunger—sorely fed and hardly assuaged—bit at him. He couldn’t believe there wouldn’t be more, couldn’t believe their encounter had obviously meant so little to her when it had been such an answer for him.

  He tried to shake off the ridiculous sentiments. Tried hard, because all it had been was a one-night stand. An easy fix for a problem much more significant.

  Picking his wallet up off the floor, he extracted enough to cover the cost of the lamp. “I’ll take care of the damage.”

  “No, don’t worry about it. I’ve got it covered.”

  She laughed, almost as if she couldn’t believe what had transpired and was just now acknowledging it. He realized that her earlier cool sheen might have been, in truth, an afterglow—a happy flush that sex had brought to the surface.

  But he wasn’t sure. Not with the way she was keeping her distance from him.

  “I wonder,” he said, attempting to lift the heavy awkwardness, “how many lamps a motel has to go through during any given week.”

  “I couldn’t even start to guess.”

  She caught his eye, then glanced away, her flush blooming like a stain. Embarrassed? he wondered. Maybe he’d been right about her not being the type to have this kind of quickie.

  So what had just happened?

  “Listen…” he started.

  But that seemed to be her cue to end any more attempts at levity. Tonight was what it was, no sense in pretending otherwise.

  She wandered toward the door, smoothing her hair back over an ear.

  As sure a sign as any. She’d gotten what she wanted and now it was time for him to leave. Joshua certainly didn’t believe in pushing a moment when a woman was being so clear, but, then again, that didn’t mean he wanted to go.

  More. He wanted more.

  Still, while she wasn’t looking, he sneaked the wad of bills under the crease of pillow on the bed nearest him, hoping it wouldn’t come off like he was paying her or something. He wanted to be responsible for that lamp—that was all. Then he made his way to the exit.

  When he got there, he hesitated, risking enough to stand only inches away from her. He couldn’t stop himself.

  “What’s your name?” he asked softly, maybe because he needed closure. Maybe because he couldn’t let go this time.

  For a moment, he thought he had her. Her eyes went as blue as a pool where two people might embrace, their bare skin slick and sliding while they came together. Her berry-stained lips parted, just as they had back in the gift shop, when he’d first seen that she wanted him.

  When he’d decided to pursue her.

  Yet then, something came over her, a second thought. A reconsideration.

  And any chance of getting more ended right there.

  “No names,” she repeated from earlier, clearly meaning it. “Not for us strangers.”

  Knowing that she was right, Joshua nodded, then left the room with her standing at the door, then closing it behind him.

  Yup, she was right about keeping their names out of it. So he’d just stop thinking about the woman with the deep blue eyes and mysterious smile. He’d stop thinking about what her friends might call her, too.

  He just wished knowing her name didn’t matter more than anything else at this moment.

  4

  BACK AT THE PARTY, Carmen had put her phone away, relieved that Lucy had called to say she was safe.

  “All tucked in for the night,” she said.

  Eddie was still standing by her side at the sink. “You two keep an eye out for each other, don’t you?”

  “Ever since we were little freshmen studentlings. But…well, that was ages ago.”

  Suddenly all too aware of the years she had on him—good heavens, seven—she shook her head, took a drink and put her beverage on the counter. Had Lucy been right when she’d asked earlier if Carmen just wanted to recapture her youth by coming to his room?

  Maybe Lucy was right. After spending most of college dating Malcolm only to lose all the time and emotion she’d invested in him, Carmen felt as if she truly could’ve missed something vital that all the other kids had gained. What it was, she had no idea, but here she was testing its waters now.

  A vintage Aerosmith song took over the boom box, and Eddie clasped her hand, rubbing his thumb over hers. Then he leaned in close, talking in her ear so she could hear over the music. He stirred her hair, warmed her ear.

  “You look a million miles away,” he said.

  Great, she was a real upper. Tonight was supposed to be about fun, plain and simple: making up for all the time she’d lost.

  “I’m just taking it all in,” she said, raising her own voice to compete with the lyrics.

  He gave her a long look, then a smile that made her blood purr.

  At the Quarters table, everyone cheered, and one of the guys stood—the kid from the Philippines—and gulped down his beer. All the others banged their fists on the table, urging him on.

  Eddie leaned over again. “Two days ago it was Richie’s twenty-first birthday.” He gestured toward the beer-swilling partier. “He was the last one to turn completely legal, and they’re all still celebrating.”

  He said it as if he was somehow distanced from the rest of the group. Hmm, curiouser and curiouser.

  Just as she was about to pursue the subject, he got a devilish gleam in his green eyes, then jerked his chin toward the bathroom.

  Carmen gave him an arch look. Earlier, when the subject of Seven Minutes in Heaven had come up, they’d traded flirty expressions, joking and almost daring each other to take up the game.

  Now, as he pulled her away from the sink area, her heart rate picked up speed.

  “Where do you think you’re taking me?” she asked lightly.

  He didn’t answer, just kept leading her toward the restroom.

  “You’ve got to be kidding,” she said, even though this was what she’d wanted. Right? This was what everything had been leading up to.

  Scenarios flitted past her mind’s eye, each one building in speed and urgency until she felt their culmination in the pump of her pulse. Him, tearing her halter top off…Him, latching his mouth to her breast…Her, grinding into him…

  By the time he’d closed the door behind them, Carmen was already seduced. A shiver of white heat bolted over her skin, flashing it with dampness. An ache to be touched.

  What would it be like to have a party fling, just as she probably
should’ve done in college?

  Then again, it wasn’t as if she could replay the past and make sure it went right this time. She couldn’t correct all the decisions she had made to be faithful to what she thought she had wanted back then.

  But she was overthinking.

  Easy, breezy sex, she mused. That’s all this had to be.

  “Seven minutes,” she said, backing away from him until her calves hit the bathtub. “Is that really all we get in here?”

  “Those are the rules.”

  Oh, and there it was again—that killer grin.

  Behind the closed door, the party sounds were muted enough to make it feel as if they’d gone into some private little world of their own. And when he secured the lock, it drove the point home.

  Carmen told herself to breathe, just breathe. Damn, shouldn’t she be more confident as an older woman? Mrs. Robinson sure was. Not that Carmen was quite that mature, but…

  Desire pounded to her head, and it felt as if she were processing everything in a vacuum. Maybe that’s why he seemed to take five hours to move closer to her.

  But when he finally arrived, he surprised her by pausing, stuffing his hands into his back pockets while he gauged her.

  Good Lord, she didn’t want him to see she was nervous. That’d be truly pathetic, a thirty-year-old one-night-stand virgin.

  “You ever done your time in Heaven before?” she asked, trying to regain her equilibrium.

  “Raised on the game.” Eddie looked terribly serious in a playful sort of way.

  “I remember reading Are You There God? It’s Me, Margaret when I was young. Didn’t she and her crush spend seven minutes in a closet in that book? I can’t recall very well. Or maybe you didn’t—” she gulped “—read it.”

  “No, I didn’t, Carmen,” he said.

  Of course, it was a chick book. The basic bible for adolescent girls. Why had she even asked?

  Because she was babbling. Her. Carmen Ferris, apparent wild child.

  Her heart kept doing roundhouse kicks to her chest and it only got worse as Eddie stepped nearer.

  Just a whisper away.

  “How much time have we got left?” she asked, trying to tease. But she didn’t sound very convincing. “Five minutes?”