“It really isn’t important,” she said, swallowing the lump forming in her throat. “Because I’m not making a bet that includes me jumping out of a plane. Besides, we have drinks with Meagan and the crew. There’s no time for bets or anything else.” Really? Had she really just said “or anything else”? The elevator doors opened. “Home sweet hotel,” she said. “I want to change before we meet the others for drinks.”
They stepped out into an elegant lobby area of red oriental carpets and impressive artwork. Her nerves tingled just thinking being in a hotel room she’d been fantasizing about for hours—or rather, a hotel room with Blake in it.
She glanced down at her key. “1835.”
“I’m next door.” He motioned toward the hallway that led to their rooms. “If you want to change, we better get moving.”
They started down the hallway, her gaze traveling the luxurious corridor. “Hopefully our bags will arrive quickly.” There was a nervous hitch in her voice that Blake couldn’t ignore.
“You looked really stunned over the paparazzi issue. You do realize you’re about to be a big star, don’t you?”
“Don’t say that,” she chided quickly. “It’s bad luck to assume success. And I don’t care how popular season one was, season two could tank. Or I could tank. They could decide I’m too young or too old or too fat or too tall. Or I don’t resonate with the audience or—”
“Worry much?” he asked her.
She let out a breath. “I excel at it, yes.”
“You can’t survive this business like that,” he said. “You’ll drive yourself insane.” They stopped in front of her door and he motioned to it. “Just as I promised. I got you to your room safely, without being seen, and without taking advantage of you.” He leaned against the door. “But no one said you can’t take advantage of me.”
Her desire burned a little brighter. “I’m not drunk.”
“Are you giving me permission to take advantage of you?”
Blake’s words you can’t live like that resonated with her. She truly was a worrier, and she was about to let that worry cheat her out of a night with Blake. It was now or never.
A hallway door opened and Darla turned away, feeling like a child caught with her hand in the cookie jar. A bellman wheeled their bags forward from what appeared to be a service entrance.
“Saved by the bellman,” Blake said, pushing off the wall.
Darla turned back to him, determined to salvage her “now or never” moment. “Who said I wanted to be saved?”
5
DARLA WATCHED HIS DARK EYES, full of understanding and desire. For her. This wasn’t about television ratings or competition. It was just about a man and a woman, and she didn’t remember the last time she’d let herself experience such a thing. Actually, she wasn’t into strangers and casual sex, so she’d never done something like this. But then, Blake wasn’t a stranger. Not really.
“Ms. James?” the bellman asked from behind her.
“Yes,” she said, turning to greet the young man. “That’s me. Thanks for being so quick.” She stuck her key in her door.
“I’ll just grab my bag myself,” Blake told the kid, his attention capturing Darla’s for a moment. She thought she might combust from heat if he spent the next few hours looking at her like that. Everyone was bound to notice, too. She gave him a warning glare.
Blake’s lips hinted at a lift and his eyes danced with amusement. “Thanks for the promptness,” he said to the kid, passing him a tip before he retrieved his bag. He gestured toward the elevator. “I’ll meet you here in twenty minutes, if that works?”
She swallowed hard. “Ah, yes. Sure.” Was he serious or…?
He rolled his bag to his door.
Feeling more than a little out of sorts, she forced her attention from Blake and opened her door. The bellman carried her bag inside and she added to his tip. When all was said and done, the kid departed and Darla poked her head into the hallway. Blake was in his room, it appeared, his door firmly shut. She shut her own door and fell back against it. Was he being discreet or…no! She refused to believe Blake was playing her. She felt a connection with him, a level of comfort she never felt with another man so quickly, if ever. A knock sounded on the door and she jumped. The knock sounded again. Darla grabbed the door and pulled it open.
Blake stood there, tall and broad, still wearing his faded jeans and T-shirt, looking too sexy for her own good. “You gonna invite me in or leave me out here where someone might see me?”
“I have to get ready for drinks.” She looked at her watch. “We have fifteen minutes.”
“It was canceled,” he said. “Now can I come inside?”
She backed up and let him in, fearful he would be seen and eager for an explanation. “What do you mean drinks are canceled? I didn’t get a call.”
He stepped inside and shut the door, sliding her lock into place and turning to face her. A mixture of hot man scent and some deliciously right cologne washed over her, overpowering her with a spike in awareness. Of the man. Of the bed behind her—that she wasn’t going anywhere near until she knew what was going on.
“Meagan tried to call and text you, but apparently you don’t have good reception in the mountains. They’ve had some security issues at the audition site.” He leaned on the door as she had just moments before. “She had to cancel.”
“Oh, no,” Darla said, obviously alert, concerned. “What kind of security issues? We have to go and help out.”
“Wait. There’s more.” He read from his cell phone. “Blake. When Darla offers to come over and help us—and since I know Darla well, she will—tell her I said no. Sam gets cranky when too many people get involved with his things. I suggest both of you just get some rest and we’ll see you in the morning.” He glanced up at her.
“My God, she typed you a full memo in text message.”
“Yeah, she did,” he agreed. “But our bottom line here is that there is no meeting and no drinks with Meagan.” He reached for her and pulled her against him, his hand sliding down her back, molding her to his long, hard body. Her thighs pressed to his, her hips melded to his, making the thick ridge of his erection more than evident. “So, instead of a bet,” he murmured, “how about we negotiate more of a deal?”
“I’m not sure why that’s different but I’m not skydiving.” Her hands settled on his chest, his impressively hard chest, and warmth seeped into her palms. She couldn’t believe she was doing this, that this was really happening, that she wasn’t even trying to talk herself out of it. “Just for the record, if at any point before you leave this room and I tell you I will skydive, don’t believe me. I won’t be responsible for saying it. If you can live with that, then I want to know what your ‘deal’ is.”
“The idea that I might get you to agree, even if you change your mind later, isn’t a bad one.” He laughed. “But no skydiving. This is the ‘deal.’ For the rest of the night, if I can’t make you forget to worry about tomorrow morning, then my father will go on your show. I’ll give him the thumbs-up to embarrass the hell out of me, and believe me, not only will he do so and do it well, he’ll enjoy every second. My father revels in that kind of stuff. But if I succeed, then you give me my interview and we talk about the shoe incident and clear the air in the same public way this war started.”
“That’s big Texas talk and big Texas demands, if I ever heard them.”
His hand traveled a path up her back, to her neck, under her hair. “Sweetheart, talking isn’t what I have on my mind.” His bent toward her, his mouth a breath from hers, tickling her lips and so much more with promise. “Do we have a deal?”
If it was going to get him to kiss her, and sooner rather than later, oh, yeah, they did. “Sure,” she said. “We have a dea—” His mouth closed down on hers before she ever got the final word out.
* * *
BLAKE HAD INTENDED TO START slowly with Darla, to start with tender, seductive kisses, before exploring every inch of her slee
k, sexy body. Intended but failed. She wrapped her arms around his waist, her lush breasts pressing against his chest. And once again, when he’d have sworn it was no longer possible for a woman to do so, Darla seduced him, not the other way around. The instant Blake had set eyes on her again in the New York airport, and ten times over since, she controlled him without even trying. He was charmed by her, intrigued by her, and he was lost in the touch of her soft, yielding lips beneath his.
He deepened the kiss, his hand caressing her heart-shaped backside, which he’d admired more than a few times during this trip. A delicate, erotic little sound of her pleasure unraveled him, ripping through him like rocket fuel. Fuel for a simmering desire he’d been holding back, since the moment she’d fallen off her broken shoe and into his arms. Hell, he’d not touched another woman since, and now he knew why. He was tired of settling for sating a male urge, rather than truly feeling something beyond simple, short-lived lust. Finally, someone had made him feel something real, something worth staying for, something worth experiencing.
He turned her so that she was against the wall, his legs framing hers, his hands gliding over her waist to her breasts. His teeth scraped her bottom lip. “What are you thinking about?”
“You,” she added in a teasing voice, “and tomorrow morning when I begin the biggest career move of my life. So I’d say you still have some work to do to uphold your end of our ‘deal.’”
“Now you’re just being bad.” But dang, he liked it. His gaze held hers, his thumbs brushing over her nipples pebbled against her thin T-shirt. She bit her lip, her face etched with pleasure. “And I’m clearly not doing this bet service if you can mock me so easily.”
“I thought it was a deal,” she said, “not a bet.”
“Deal,” he conceded, shoving her shirt upward, then pulling it over her head and tossing it behind him. His gaze fell to her breasts, to the bra that, somehow, so fit her. “I knew it would be pink.”
She crinkled her nose at him. “You did not. And if you did, you shouldn’t have been thinking of my bra in the first place.”
“No?” he asked, pulling it down to tease her pretty rose-colored nipples. “I’ll be better next time.”
“There won’t be a next time,” she said breathlessly, her teeth scraping over her bottom lip. “We’re competitors. We don’t belong in bed together and this is against my better judgment.”
He glanced at her. “Yet I’m here.”
“We have one night and then we’re worlds apart,” she agreed. She leaned into him, her hand sliding down his crotch, caressing the hard ridge of his erection. “I wasn’t going to let that pass me by, but we better make this count. There’s no do-over.”
They weren’t competitors. Her career was going places he’d long ago decided he didn’t want to go, but to tell her that would only remind her of the pressure she was under, and that would defeat the entire purpose of their “deal.” “I plan on making it count,” he said and placed his hand over hers, over his pulsing erection. “Just as I plan on making you forget anything but how bad I can be.” He turned her around to face the wall.
“Blake—” The objection died on her tongue as she tried to turn and he stopped her.
“Stay where you’re at,” he ordered. His hands settled on her waist, his cock against her backside.
“I want—”
“To be in control,” he finished for her, leaning into her. He pressed his lips to her ear, even as one hand popped her bra clasp. “And sweetheart, if that’s what you want, I’m all yours. But you know what I think?” He slid the bra straps forward until she shrugged out of them, then filled his palms with her breasts, his teeth nibbling her lobe. “You’ll overthink what that means. You’ll worry that you aren’t doing it right. You’ll worry that I’m like the studio and wonder if I think you’re too young or too old, or too something, when all I’m thinking—” he turned her back around, wanting her to see the truth in his eyes “—is how damn perfect you are and how damn lucky I am to be with you tonight.” And he meant that. This wasn’t just about their obvious physical attraction. Somehow he had to show her that.
“Blake.” This time his name was a whisper rather than a command, her voice and her lovely features etched with vulnerability.
“Believe me,” he said, brushing a silky strand of hair behind her ear, knowing he had to earn her trust. “And, Darla. What happens here stays here. I just want to make sure you know that. This is our time, our experience and our secret.” He dipped his head, brushed his mouth over hers. “You have my word.” His fingers trailed over her jaw, her neck, over one of her nipples. His gaze swept over her body, then lifted. Their eyes collided, the air sexually charged. One minute they were staring at one another, the next, they were kissing, touching, her soft hands sliding under his shirt, pushing it upward.
Blake tugged it over his head and before he even tossed it away, her mouth was on his chest, her teeth grazing his nipple, her fingers working the button on his jeans. Had any woman ever felt this good? Every inch of his body was aware of her. He wondered what she was thinking, what she was feeling beyond desire.
“No, sweetheart,” he groaned, capturing her hand before she worked the zipper down. “Not yet. I want you way too much to rush this, and I’ll be damned if I let you get away from me without making sure you remember tonight.” And that she would give him a chance for another night, which he was pretty damn sure wasn’t going to come easy and he already knew he wanted. She might justify their bedroom adventure as here and gone, but he wouldn’t be here if that’s what this was, if there wasn’t more to this. She pushed to her toes and kissed him, and the instant her tongue touched his, he was a goner. He lost himself in the honey-sweet taste of her, the feel of her skin against his. Quickly, she unzipped his jeans and pressed her hand inside his boxers, her slender fingers wrapping around his shaft. Blake moaned and pulled away from her, squatting to help her take off her boots. He had to slow things down, otherwise it would be a “wham, bam, thank you ma’am” experience that he was certain as Sunday would haunt him the rest of his life.
“Now, where were we?” he said, her boots gone now, and his, too. He ran his hands up her legs as he stood, to settle on her hips. “Oh, yeah. We were talking about how you’d agreed that I’m in control so you can just relax and let me take you away.”
“We didn’t agree to anything of the sort,” she said, swallowing hard as he worked the front of her jeans.
“Pretend.” He tugged her jeans down and noticed the blond triangle of neatly trimmed curls that came into view. He glanced down and then up, and playfully tried to put her at ease. “No underwear?”
“I don’t like panty lines,” she said, stepping out of her pants without hesitation.
“Of course,” he said, wrapping his arm around her to comfort her. “I hate panty lines.” He gently tweaked her nipples, then soothed them with his thumbs.
“Aren’t you the funny man?” There was a breathless quality to her voice that told him he was getting to her, and he liked it. He liked it a lot.
“It’s not my intention to be funny,” he assured her, kicking her jeans aside. “In fact, why don’t I show you just how seriously I’m taking your pleasure right now?” He dropped to one knee, settling his hands on her hips. “Do I seem like I’m trying to be funny?”
She wet her lips. “No. Funny isn’t the word that comes to mind.”
He pressed his lips to her stomach. “Then what word comes to mind?” He kissed her again then ran his tongue around her belly button. Her belly quivered. The vulnerability it showed made his chest expand, tighten. She was like a delicate flower, and a sense of protectiveness toward her surprised him. He didn’t want to keep her at a distance, which defied everything he’d taught himself about self-preservation. He glanced up at her, aware she’d yet to reply. “What are you thinking?”
“Am I supposed to be thinking right now?”
He smiled against her stomach, pleased with that answer. I
f she wasn’t thinking, she was letting go; she was trusting. “Not if I can help it.” He slid his fingers into the slick heat of her sex, his cock pulsing at the intimate touch.
She made a soft sound, squeezing her thighs around his hand. “We really should move to the bed before I fall down.”
“I won’t let you fall,” he promised, his lips traveling over her soft, silky skin, his teeth grazing her sexy hip bone, the curve of her waist.
“If you keep doing what you’re doing,” she whispered, “I’m not sure you can stop me.”
His fingers delved past the slick folds of her sex. He sought the sweet spot he knew would drive her wild. And he wanted to drive her wild. He wanted to see her let go of her control, to relinquish her prim and proper persona fully—for him, with him. “I want to taste you, Darla.” He lifted one of her legs over his shoulder, his fingers explored her more intimately, his thumb flickering over her clit. “Any objection?” He leaned in and licked her clit, glancing up at her, arching a brow.
“You don’t really expect me to say ‘no,’ do you?”
He chuckled, licking her again and again until she gasped and her head fell back against the wall, her dark lashes sweeping her ivory cheeks. Blake suckled her swollen nub, stroking her with his fingers, still seeking that sweet spot that would drive her wild. He knew he’d found it when she moaned deeply and laced her fingers into his hair. The more he licked, the more he delved and stroked and teased, the firmer her fingers tightened on his hair. She rocked her hips, pumping against his fingers. He felt her stiffen, heard her suck in a breath. She went still—and he knew she was on the edge ready to tumble, one lick away from orgasm. He suckled her instead, drawing out her pleasure, then swirled his tongue around her nub. Her hands flattened on the wall a moment before her body jerked, hips lifting against him. Spasms spiraled around his fingers. His body reacted instantly, his cock a hard ridge against his stomach, ready for her the next time she came.