Big Sky Seduction. Daire Denis St.

he knocked. “Hey? You in there?” When there was no answer, he turned the knob, but there was no one there.

      Huh. He scratched the same damn spot. Maybe she’d gone for breakfast. He wished she’d woken him up first. They could have ordered room service, had breakfast in bed. He would have liked to see her first thing in the morning, sex-messy, ravenous...

      Hot.

      He’d have liked to kiss her midbreakfast, tasting the flavor of bacon, eggs and coffee in her mouth, her skin warm as he reached beneath the covers. He’d have taken the tray away and made love to her again.

      Sounded like a damn fine way to begin the day.

      After pulling on his briefs and dress pants, he found his suit jacket thrown over a chair and located his phone inside. She’d given him her number, hadn’t she? He scrolled. Yep. There it was, her whole name, middle name, too. He tapped a message—Where’d you go?—and barely sent it before he heard the sound of a key card sliding into the lock and the heavy hotel door opening.

      With a grin, Dillon went to meet her. “Heya, darlin’. I just sent you a message.” He leaned down to kiss her but Gloria turned her face to the side.

      Pulling back, he took a better look at her. Her face was scrubbed of all makeup and her hair was pulled back in a simple ponytail. She was wearing some workout clothes that looked a couple of sizes too big. The result was that she looked young, fresh and innocent. Nothing wrong with that. It was the expression she was wearing that was all wrong.

      Her face was pale. Her pretty lips pressed together. Her light eyes dark, as if the pupils ate up all the blue.

      “I didn’t think you’d still be here,” she said.

      “Why?”

      “It’s late.” She looked at her phone. “Nine thirty.”

      “Nine thirty? Holy shit, you really tired me out.” He grinned.

      She frowned.

      “What’s up?”

      “I think you should go.” Her gaze was on his face but she wouldn’t meet his eyes. Then her gaze traveled down, stopping at his chest before going lower. Red appeared out of nowhere, staining her neck and cheeks, making her glow as she struggled to raise her eyes. “Look, about last night. It was...”

      He took a step closer and touched the red in her cheek. “Pretty frickin’ amazing.”

      She let him touch her for a split second before stepping out of range. Shaking her head she said, “It was nothing.”

      “Nothing?” He dropped his hand.

      “It was just sex.” She bit her lip. “I probably had too much champagne.”

      He fell against the wall, his shoulder making a thud. Studying her close, he asked, “You telling me you regret last night?”

      With narrowed eyes she said, “I’m not sure regret completely sums up the entirety of my remorse over last night.”

      Holy shit. What the hell? “So when you were crying out, coming all around me, you didn’t like that?”

      Her eyes were large, the same way animals looked when they were frightened and searching for an escape route. “I didn’t say the sex wasn’t good.”

      “Uh-huh?”

      “I just...” Her lips parted as she breathed audibly through her mouth. “We don’t like each other.”

      “Uh-huh?”

      “At all.” She waved between them. “This was just a by-product of that line between anger and passion, you know? Because you drive me crazy.”

      He nodded. “You did mention that once or twice. Like when I had my tongue in your pussy.”

      She fell against the wall, breathing hard. Kind of like last night but different. “Stop.”

      “What’s this really about?”

      She gazed up at him, pleading. “It was a mistake. Okay?” She gulped air as if it was in short supply. “So, let’s just forget it happened and...” She took a long deep breath in and exhaled audibly. “Move on.”

      Holy hell. She was ditching him. Just like that.

      “It’s not like there’s anything between us.”

      He moved away from the wall, taking a step toward her. Then another. “Really?”

      “Really.” The word, breathy and soft, told him otherwise, as did her wide-eyed gaze as he closed the distance between them.

      With a hand on the wall above her head, he leaned right down. Her lids fluttered and she tilted her face up, as if she wanted him to kiss her. “This sure as hell feels like something,” he whispered.

      “It’s not,” she panted back.

      “Felt like more than something last night.” He wanted to touch her face because there was that blush, spreading like a wildfire up from her chest into her cheeks and he needed to know how it felt.

      “It wasn’t.” She licked her lips in between ragged breaths.

      He leaned down and for a second—maybe not even—their lips touched. Then she ducked beneath his arm and scurried to the other side of the small room. “This will not happen again.”

      “Why?”

      “I already told you.”

      “None of that made sense.”

      She closed her eyes for a second and when she opened them, it was as though she was a different woman. Her back straightened, her eyes narrowed and pretty lips thinned. “You don’t even live in Chicago. Where do you live? Wyoming?”

      “Montana.”

      “Right.” She made a hand gesture that said, You see? “You’re what? A rancher? Farmer? What?”

      “A professional bull rider.”

      She pointed. “Exactly!” She motioned to herself. “And I’m an interior decorator and professional stager.” She forced a smile. “I bet you don’t even know what that means.”

      “You make houses ready to sell.” He said that last bit with no inflection because the tiny woman was being condescending and he didn’t particularly care for it.

      “Okay. So you know what I do. Doesn’t matter. We have nothing in common.”

      He arched a single eyebrow, thinking about their amazing compatibility in the sack.

      Her eyebrows drew together and a little crinkle deepened between them. “Life isn’t all about sex, Dillon.”

      No. But good sex was a good indicator that life could be pretty damn good with someone...

      Wait a second. What was he thinking? He raked a hand through his hair. She was doing him a favor right now. He didn’t want forever, especially not with a bossy little fireball from Chicago. He just wanted to share some passion with someone of equal passion. After last night? He thought he’d found it. Clearly she was looking for more. That should be a red flag right there.

      The woman bent down in front of him—a spectacular sight—gathering up his belongings: his shoes, his shirt, his tie, his jacket. Once she was satisfied she’d got it all, she shoved the bundle at him. “Here.”

      He took the clothes. “You gonna help me dress like you helped me take my clothes off last night?” God, he felt like being shitty right now.

      Tilting her head to the side, she said, “I’m pretty sure you can manage.”

      He dropped the bundle except for his shirt. “You gonna watch?”

      “Nope.” She stalked past him to the door. Before opening it, she called over her shoulder. “Be