Page 28 of The Man She Loves to Hate

He responded by thrusting into her hand as he yanked the covers off both of them. Then he removed her hand and kissed her palm before kissing his way down her body. He paused to flick his tongue over each nipple and her belly button before settling between her legs.

“Trick.” Whatever excuse she was about to make about being late was lost on a sigh. She rested her hands on his head, tangling her fingers in his messy hair. The room was dark thanks to the heavy curtains being pulled. Her alarm was off. It was too early for anyone to call with an emergency. She further reasoned that she made her own schedule, and she could do whatever she damn well pleased. Her brain tried to insert a to-do list into the mix, but the man between her thighs must have sensed he was about to lose her. He doubled his efforts, effectively erasing any coherent thought from her head.

Mere minutes later, an orgasm slammed into her without warning, wringing a cry from her lips.

“You’re so fucking hot.” He bit the inside of her thigh and soothed it with a kiss.

She ruffled his hair, thinking to herself that it was Trick, not her, who was hot. With his dark hair a mess, his five o’clock shadow scraping her sensitive skin, and those hooded eyes that tempted her to laze around all day with him, he was sexy as hell. Add that up with last night and what he’d just done to her? Forget it. He was her ultimate fantasy man.

“How many more do you want?” Her fantasy man’s gaze was on her face when he slid his tongue over her clit.

“Do you charge by the hour?”

“By the orgasm, in your case. It doesn’t take an hour to start you up, Peaches.”

“Ugh.” She covered her face in her hands. “More proof I don’t know what I’m doing when it comes to one-night stands.”

He shifted positions so quickly, she was face-to-face with him in a blink. “What are you talking about?”

“You’re my first.”

“Your first.” An alarmed expression crossed his handsome features.

“Not my firsttime. My first one-night stand.”

“Oh.” Relief, and then he shook his head. “That’s not what this is, Rylee.”

“Of course it is. I mean, I know it’s morning instead of night, but we’re within a twenty-four-hour window.”

“I’m in town for a few more days.” His eyebrows drew together over his nose. “You’re not escaping me that easily. I’m your partner, remember?”

“That was your term, I believe.” She kept her tone light, but she was surprised to hear he wanted more than one night. “I’m going to be busy with the final preparations, you know.”

“You’re also going to be getting busywith me.” She liked the hint of possessiveness in his voice way too much. “How else can you expect to work off the stress that builds on any given day. He gripped her thigh and massaged it gently. Don’t you want to keep your heart healthy? I can help with that.” He pressed a kiss between her breasts, right over her fluttering heart. “Last night, tonight, tomorrow, and the wedding night makes this afour-night stand.”

“I’m not sure we can include the wedding night. I’m usually ready to collapse by then. Don’t expect any acrobatics.”

He kissed her nipple succinctly and then looped her leg around his hip. “You like to point out your limitations. When are you going to realize I’m far more capable, patient and talented than your country-club boyfriend?”

Oh, she’d already realized that. She played with Trick’s unkempt hair, loving the way it stubbornly flopped to one side, refusing to be tamed. A good metaphor for him. Where her ex-boyfriend had been as tame as a pony at a children’s birthday party, Trick struck her as a man who couldn’t be corralled. Plus, what was the harm in a four-night stand? They were already in Royal together—in the same hotel, no less. It would be silly to stop sleeping together, especially since he didn’t want to stop. Frankly, neither did she.

“So, you’re not done? With me,” she couldn’t help pointing out, a hint of disbelief in her tone.

“Peaches.” His grin was feral, infectious. “I’m just getting started.”

Trick was a lighthearted guy, but it still surprised him when he began whistling his way through the lobby of the Bellamy. That was new.

He passed the tapas bar, smiling as he recalled last night. He had hoped the evening would end with Rylee in his bed—or his in hers, he hadn’t been picky—but the resulting night he’d spent having sex with her, laughing with her, and confessing his secret motivation for changing careers had been unexpected.

And not in a bad way.

After they’d sorted out that one-night stand dilemma, he’d made love to her again, effectively silencing any argument she might have made that she would be late for work. She worked too much. Her focus was always on others and not on herself. She deserved a break. He’d talked her into giving him an hour. Incredible sex plus a long hot shower had eaten up that hour up and then some. She’d admonished him, but the smile on her face had never gone away.

He’d promised to make up for lost minutes by picking up coffee, and then he’d dashed down to his room to get dressed. She’d assured him she could be ready in fifteen minutes and would meet him in the lobby. He knew she was organized and punctual, but fifteen minutes was a feat that remained to be seen.

There was a fancy coffee kiosk adjacent to the lobby where an eager barista awaited his approach. He’d expected more people to be in line, but perhaps the Bellamy’s residents had taken advantage of the in-room coffee makers instead.

Their coffees in to-go cups, one in each hand, he was angling for a sofa when the elevator doors pinged and opened. Out stepped the woman he hadn’t known he’d been dreaming of until he’d set foot in the great state of Texas.

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