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watched his features grow sharp, his eyes bright, and his lips press tightly together. Her breath caught
at the raw beauty of his desire.
Pleasure washed through her again as he released in a series of hard thrusts, and she knew why
she d wanted him inside her so badly. She d needed to see him lose control and know he was as
powerless to resist the attraction between them as she was.
He collapsed on top of her, squeezing the air from her lungs, and then rolled, taking her with him.
She felt his hand grasp the condom as he slid out of her. They were both breathing heavily, and sweat
slicked their bodies. She lay on top of him, listening to the wild pounding of his heart and feeling its
echo inside her.
A loud knock on the door made them both jump.  Room service. The words rang out in the silent
hotel.
Quin s arms tightened around her.  He better be gone by the time I get to the door or I m going to
kill him.
She eased to the side, and he rolled off the bed, heading for the bathroom.  I ll just be a second and
then I ll grab the food.
She sat up, very aware of her nakedness. Where had she thrown her dress? She found it on the other
side of the bed just as he came out of the bathroom wearing a robe. He handed another one to her, and
she took both into the bathroom and locked the door.
She stood, clutching the dress and robe, and stared into the mirror, unsettled and confused. Her hair
was everywhere, and the small amount of mascara she d applied had landed beneath her eyes. Now
what?
She didn t have her cell phone, so she couldn t text Lila or Jenna for suggestions, even if she was
willing to explain the events that had led her to this point. Her friends had drunk the fairytale Kool-
Aid within months of each other. Lila was so in love with her fiancé Jack, her eyes looked like
cartoon hearts, and Jenna had just gotten engaged, too. No help there.
How had she gotten so far off course? She d planned to show Quin she wasn t a pushover. Instead,
she d begged him to fuck her before the last minute of their bet had elapsed, an epic fail. But, wait,
there s more. Now that there was a locked door between her and Quin s panty-melting sexual
magnetism, her brain was working again. Or perhaps multiple orgasms had dulled her raging desire
for his body enough to let reason shine through. Either way, the humiliating truth was making itself
known.
She d set herself up to fail.
On purpose. In the most basic way a woman can. I shaved my bikini line and wore my best
underwear.
She shrugged into the thick, white terry-cloth robe and sank down into the padded chair next to the
vanity, covering her face with her hands. She d subconsciously engineered a bet to get them into bed,
and it had been easy to be aggressive because she d wanted to touch him. She d been thrilled when
he d conceded, not because he d leave Last Call alone, but because she wanted to have sex with him.
A wave of arousal swept through her, leaving her tingling, hot, and excruciatingly aware of the
extent of her self-sabotage. That fifteen minutes had been hers as much as his, but as soon as he d
offered to take control, she d gone flat on her back with her arms open and her legs spread wide.
She slumped in the chair. I ve got to get out of here. Even as the thought crossed her mind, she
knew damn well she wasn t going anywhere. If I wanted to leave, I would have put on my dress. The
thick terry-cloth of the hotel robe embraced her.
Why pretend to resist if she was going to sabotage herself? Even though he was the embodiment of
everything she hated in a man, an unapologetic player used to getting his way through brute force of
money, she wanted to spend tonight with him. So what if he had women across the country waiting for
him to call when he was in town? She wasn t going to become one of them. Maybe she hadn t set
herself up to fail; maybe she d set herself up to win. She d made it clear he wasn t going to get his
hands on Last Call and found a way to get his hands on her, guilt-free, all night.
She looked around the bathroom and saw multiple showerheads in a glass-and-marble stall, a
sunken tub, a stunning array of toiletries, and a mountain of soft-looking towels. Sounds from the next
room told her he was setting up the room-service cart in the bedroom. She heard music playing. What
was waiting for her at home? An empty apartment.
His world was so far from hers, it was like another galaxy. She worked twelve-hour days trying to
keep the café profitable, losing sleep, eating leftover sandwich prep, and barely taking time to shower
each day. Quin lived in luxury with five-course meals delivered to his suite and a water park in his
bathroom. Since she d technically won the bet, why not enjoy the spoils of war? The other half had it
pretty good; she might as well take advantage of it.
She hung her dress on the back of the door and used the bathroom. After washing her hands,
smoothing her hair, and arranging the robe to show the maximum amount of her minimal cleavage, she
opened the door.
&
Quin released a silent sigh when he saw she was wearing the robe. He d figured the odds of her
staying were fifty-fifty, no matter what she d said ten minutes ago, so he d begun laying out a feast to
entice her.
 What on earth is that? she asked, pointing at the room-service cart.
 Half warming oven, half refrigerator. It keeps the hot stuff hot and the cold stuff cold. I hope you
don t mind me starting without you. I m starving. He tipped a raw oyster into his mouth.
She made a face.  The oysters are all yours.
 You don t like oysters? How can you not like oysters? He d been in love with them since his first
taste. Complex, salty, lush on the tongue, like a cool breeze blowing in from the Gulf.  Try one of
these.
 Hell, no. She shuddered.  Slimy, snotty, and nasty.
 Sex in the ocean, he countered.  And proof of a regional dish on the Keystone menu.
 No self-respecting local chef would serve raw oysters with mango-habanero Jell-O.
 Aspic.
 Whatever.
Luc had said the same thing. In fact, his Cajun chef agreed with many of the points Betsy had made
about the menu, and he was sick of hearing it. He watched her take an empty bowl from the cart and
fill it with carrot bisque from a heated pitcher. She sat cross-legged on the bed next to him where he d
put the tablecloth from the cart and dipped her spoon into the soup, blowing to cool it. He wanted to
lean across the bed and trace her pursed lips with his tongue. When the spoon slid into her mouth, he
wanted to follow it. So he did, putting one hand on her bowl to steady it. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]