A Stranger's Touch. Tori Carrington

would.

      She shamelessly jutted her hips against his, absently wondering what felt better—the fire licking through her veins, making her aware of every pulse of her heartbeat, or him. The long, thick ridge of his erection pressed against her swollen flesh, and she shivered, deciding that there was no longer any differentiating between the two. His actions fanned the flames, provoking even bolder reactions from her.

      His fingers seared her bottom, tunneling under the edge of her panties and cupping her. Dulcy reached for the front of his jeans and the button there. Her fingers brushed something, and she swallowed hard, realizing that the tip of his arousal was right there, peeking from the waist of his jeans.

      Dear Lord…

      She skimmed her thumb over the velvet tip, rubbing the bead of moisture over him, then shamelessly lifted her thumb to her mouth, tasting him. She blinked to look into his eyes. The sight of his enlarged pupils, the sheer desire on his face, enhanced her own skyrocketing feelings.

      The elevator door bumped against her arm. Dulcy grasped the gaping edges of his shirt and pulled him inside the mirrored enclosure. The doors immediately slid closed, but when the elevator started to drop, Quinn reached behind him and pulled the emergency button, stopping it from going anywhere.

      One of his fingers traced the length of her fissure from behind, coaxing her right leg up in order to allow him freer access. Dulcy hooked her foot around his calf. She nearly collapsed as the same finger found the pulsing bit of flesh at the apex of her thighs. She gasped as the finger dove into her dripping recesses.

      Forgotten was her own quest as she grasped his shoulders, afraid she might faint from the headiness of it all. She broke contact with his mouth and rested her cheek against his bare shoulder. Through heavy-lidded eyes she watched their reflection in the smoky wall mirror. Somewhere in the depths of her mind, she thought she should be shocked to find herself standing there, her blouse open, her engorged nipples peeking out from the top of her bra, her leg hiked up revealing more than was decent and Quinn’s dark-skinned hands branding her pale flesh. But the image only served to turn her on more.

      “Reach into my back pocket,” he said savagely into her ear. “Now.”

      Dulcy slid her hands down his back and into both pockets, moments later tugging out a foil packet. In one swift movement, he freed her of her panties and undid the front of his jeans. Not wanting to let go of him, Dulcy put the corner of the packet between her teeth and ripped, praying she hadn’t damaged the latex. She moved to sheath him, but he took it from her fingers.

      “Oh, no, darlin’. If you do that, we’ll never get a chance to use it.”

      He covered himself with the latex condom, then thrust her against the back mirror of the elevator. Dulcy braced herself against the cool surface even as he circled his hands to her bottom and pulled her legs up to rest on either side of his hips. She crossed her ankles behind him, then sighed as he entered her in one, long, thrust.

      The flames that licked through her veins exploded to engulf her entire body. Her breasts throbbed. Her stomach tightened. And the sensation of his erection filling her seemed, oh, so right and made her hungrier for more.

      She tilted her hips, taking him in even deeper. He groaned and thrust again, moving her back up the smooth mirror even as she steadied herself with her hands. He thrust again, each stroke edging up the chaos swirling inside her stomach, further tightening her nipples. She moved her head restlessly from side to side, able to do little more than anchor herself to accept his long, deep thrusts. She caught their reflection in the glass again, the vision chasing the air from her lungs. His legs were slightly bent to balance their weight, his dark shoulders glistened with sweat, her breasts swayed with each long stroke.

      She swallowed hard, thinking that long was the key word. Long…and hard…and thick. His dark hair fell over his brow, half concealing the fierce expression on his face as he plunged again and again into her swollen, welcoming flesh. She’d never felt so naughty, so elemental…so mind-blowingly sexy as she did when he grasped her hips tighter, grinding against her, and forcing her right over the edge into oblivion.

      A HALF HOUR LATER, Dulcy paced the length of her hotel room, then back again, barely seeing the patterned bedspread that matched the draperies that matched the wall hanging that went with the lamp. Her breath came in irregular gasps, her muscles felt oddly electrified, and despite the thirty minutes that separated now from the erotic moment in the elevator, she was still on fire, her body hungry for a nameless something that only the stranger who had awakened the hunger could give her.

      What had she done?

      She glanced at the packages she’d tossed onto the bed, then at the clock, then at the telephone. She was distantly surprised neither Jena nor Marie had come after her yet. Then again, for all she knew they’d caught one of the elevators while she and Quinn had been stopped in theirs on the sixth floor, and were already in their rooms. She stalked to the connecting door and listened but couldn’t hear anything. Not prepared to face either of her friends if they were there, she opted against opening the barrier.

      She moved to the other side of the bed and the phone there. The red light was ominously dark. But just to be on the safe side, she punched the button to retrieve her messages, only to be told by a cold, automated voice that her voice-mail box was empty.

      She hung up the receiver again and stared at the clock. It was after one o’clock. She didn’t care. She needed to talk to someone. And the perfect someone for her to be talking to right now was Brad.

      She picked up the telephone receiver again, punched the button for an outside line, then followed with his number. Ten rings later, she hung up the receiver again, then sank down onto the bed, rubbing the heels of her hands against her eyes.

      What had she done? She groaned. Oh, she knew what she had done, all right. She had effectively mauled the most dangerously enticing man she’d ever seen in her life, in a hotel elevator. Tempted the man of her fantasies. Welcomed him into her flesh. She clamped her eyes shut even farther, until she saw stars. One minute she’d been congratulating herself on making it through her bachelorette party intact. The next she’d been living the made-up fantasy she’d shared with Jena and Marie earlier in the night.

      Well, it hadn’t been completely made up, but the elevator part of it had been. But, oh boy, what she had been missing out on with that little addition.

      “This is crazy. Absolutely, stark raving, lunatic mad.”

      She could still see Quinn’s sexy grin as he emerged from the bright blinding light of orgasm to stare down at her. Then reality had dawned and her eyes had widened—and his sexy grin had turned into a distinct expression of disappointment. Dulcy couldn’t have moved fast enough, far enough as she shakily tried to put herself in order while she released the emergency button.

      They’d reached his floor first. “I’m in room 613 if you change your mind,” he’d said, just before the doors closed.

      Was it possible to love one man and want to marry him, but want a completely different man only eight days before her wedding?

      Well, that was certainly a stupid question, wasn’t it. For if there was one thing she had just proven, it was that.

      Pushing from the bed, she stormed into the bathroom and turned on the shower full blast. Refusing to look at herself in the mirror, she stepped back into the other room to where her overnight bag rested on the table, and had to take out nearly everything else before she found her nightgown. For several moments she stood there, staring down at the familiar material—the familiar, boring material. The expensive, light blue cotton nightgown with the little satin ties at the throat. The sound of the shower echoed in the bathroom. But she could concentrate on nothing but the steady pulse of her heartbeat. The smell of her sex, their sex, filling her nose. The throbbing of her womanhood and the hunger that remained. She knew she should undress and head for the shower.

      Instead she moved toward the door. Whatever happened, she knew she had to see this thing through to its natural conclusion. And that meant having sex with Quinn until the hunger that raged inside her was