Up All Night. Joanne Rock

look pretty damn pleased with yourself, Ms. Moore,” he remarked as he scooped up their clothes and draped them over the back of the couch. “Are you thinking about what a sucker I am for garters?”

      “I was thinking how good you look naked.” She’d never had a man in her life for long on an intimate level, and her couple of trial runs with guys who were more friends than lovers had been less than inspiring. So seeing vitally attractive Devon prowling around her suite was a luxurious treat foreign to the De-Luxe CEO, even though she was normally an expert on pleasure seeking.

      What fascinated her now was the obvious interest he—all of him—paid to her compliment.

      “You’re making it tough for me to give you any recovery time with that kind of talk.” He paused in his straightening long enough to check out the CDs she’d brought along. Pressing the random option, he stalked toward her as a Strauss selection hummed through the speakers.

      “Who needs recovering?” Staring at him was giving her hot flashes, her whole body clamoring for more. “Tonight is a one-time indulgence for me so I’ve got to make the most of every second.”

      “One-time?” Frowning, he stretched out over the bed, completely invading her personal space in an unmistakable message as he covered her. “Are you going back home tomorrow?”

      “No.” Her breath caught in her throat to feel him on top of her, even with a sheet and a thin blanket in between them since she’d burrowed under the covers, less confident in her naked body than he seemed to be in his. Although judging by the way he’d touched and kissed her, maybe she didn’t have any reason to worry. “I’m here all week.”

      She hoped he wouldn’t ask her the specifics about her reasons for staying in town. Baring her body had been enough of a step for her tonight without baring her soul, too. She didn’t know what he’d think of her agoraphobia, this man who lived for the next thrill. But she would rather not risk their heated connection with the mundane details of real life just yet.

      “You’re here all week and you’re limiting this to a night?” He bent to swirl his tongue in the hollow at the base of her throat. “I obviously didn’t do my job before if you can turn your back on us so fast.”

      She swore she could feel the effects of his tongue the whole length of her body. Tremors of pleasure skimmed all over her skin as he slid under the blankets with her.

      “Hey, what is this?” He paused to peer down at the hot pink bed sheets, then run an appreciative hand over the silky smooth finish.

      “Egyptian cotton. Insanely high thread count.” She loved these sheets and had sent them ahead to the hotel to ensure her comfort and peace of mind.

      And because the only way she could travel was to bring snippets of home with her to give her brain familiar things to focus on, like her music.

      “You treat yourself well, don’t you? The gardenias, the candles, the sheets—none of it feels like a hotel room to me.”

      “Some of us find our thrills closer to home.” Flipping back the sheet, she showed him the cashmere blanket she’d brought in her suitcase. Okay, her trunk. When you traveled with big issues and even bigger blankets, your bags tended to be on the large side.

      “I’ll be damned.” He ran a palm over the soft blanket and his gaze narrowed. “You’re a hedonist.”

      “Guilty.” Better he think that than know the whole truth. Besides, she did like to indulge herself.

      Releasing the blanket, he straightened the sheets again and pulled her close. “Do you have any room in your life for things that aren’t all soft and smooth?”

      He was ramrod hard against her, the heat of his skin practically singeing her.

      “That can be pleasurable, too.” Her voice was whisper thin, her whole body molding around his, heat pooling between her legs.

      He drew the sheets up over their heads, sealing out the world and consigning them to a hot pink tent. Good thing she wasn’t claustrophobic or she’d be sprinting for the door. But the close quarters actually soothed her, narrowing the big, bad world down to just the two of them. The sound of their ragged breathing intensified in the muffled quiet, the music from the CD fading inside their refuge.

      “I’m going to change your mind about one night,” he warned her, his head ducking to her neck where he kissed his way down her throat. “Tonight we can stay close to home, but before the week is out I’m going to take you down to the Steel Pier. There might not be a roller coaster, but maybe we can convince someone to crank up the Ferris wheel and stop us right at the top.”

      Her heart paused for a two-count and then picked up speed at the thought.

      “You wouldn’t be so wicked.” She’d have to psych herself up for days just to get back in her car for the drive home. The Steel Pier on a crowded Atlantic City boardwalk was out of the question for someone with her mental disposition.

      “In the name of making your heart beat faster,” he traced his fingers over her right breast, “just like it is now, I’ll be as wicked as I please.”

      She knew he’d probably run before then, as soon as he found out about her very large emotional baggage, but she couldn’t help savoring the idea of a risk she’d never take. Just because she wasn’t brave enough to put herself out there in new and potentially scary situations didn’t mean she didn’t dream about them. Fantasize that she could take chances and live on the edge the way Devon Baines did.

      For now, that was enough.

      She sank her fingers into his dark hair to steer his kisses lower. As long as they were playing games of self-indulgence and wickedness, she would show him exactly what she wanted.

      His heated kisses had made her breasts ache for direct contact. When his mouth found her, nipping, licking, she threw her head back with the pleasure of it. She undulated beneath him, seeking the best angle, the most heat and pressure from his lips. But the more she satisfied the ache in her breasts, the greater the unrest building between her thighs. She craved his touch, and even more she craved his kiss.

      There.

      But she was not ready to be that wicked. Not yet. Perhaps if she demonstrated her want by example, tasting him the intimate way she wished to be tasted…

      She explored his body with shaking fingers, her nervous system overloaded with sensory impulses and overwhelmed by sex. Devon’s back narrowed into his waist, rippled with unexpected male muscles along the way. His obvious strength surprised her for a man she imagined must work behind a desk with computers and—She didn’t begin to know what engineers worked with.

      “I want to touch you.” She breathed her request into their haven, the sheets cloaking them in silky luxury.

      “The feeling is mutual.” He licked a kiss into the dip of her navel and she flinched with the erotic feel of his tongue there. Swirling. Teasing.

      A bolt of desire flashed white-hot to her core and she could almost imagine what it would feel like to receive his kiss right where she needed him most.

      “But I want—” How to say it? Words evaporated from her head as he nipped a soft bite along her abs.

      “I think I know what you want.” His dark promise sent her eyelids fluttering as she gave herself over to whatever he wanted to do.

      He seemed so damn sure of himself, so much more at ease with the intimacy than she’d ever been, she figured it wouldn’t hurt to simply close her eyes and hang on tight. That’s what one did with the best rides, right?

      And then he shifted lower still, his hands sliding beneath her thighs to spread her legs. When he huffed a breath of sultry warm air over her mound, she thought she’d fly apart then and there. The deep intimacy of the act combined with the fact that she’d completely exposed herself to him, sent tremors through her limbs.

      Not unlike the moments before