She wanted to push her fingers deeper, increase the pressure where she needed it most, and feel herself explode to thoughts of it being Carson’s hand strumming her.
This thought shocked her to her core, and she froze. She was in trouble, deep trouble, because her plan to stay safe was based on not getting attached to a man. She further reminded herself of this as she stepped out of the tub and dried off, then put on her silky camisole and pajama bottoms.
Her reminders were fleeting because all it took was the soft feel of the silk on her raised nipples to cause her thoughts to move immediately back to Carson.
His hands on my nipples, pulling them, then putting his tongue on them. That’s what I want.
Despite being worn out from the emotional roller coaster of her day, Sienna thought sleep would elude her as she crawled into bed with her rapid thoughts and ideas. With her body still humming from her orgasm, she drifted off quickly, though, to thoughts of more. More Carson.
Unfortunately, her body wasn’t in agreement with her thinking. The Carson of her dreams was on top of her, his head buried between her legs, then sliding back up her body and plunging his hardness deep inside her.
CARSON COULDN’T sleep when he got back to his room. She was all sizzling sex and natural beauty with something else he couldn’t put his finger on, and she had stood right next to him. Somehow over the last few weeks, Sienna Flower had become something more than an obsession for him.
An addiction? He couldn’t stop going to the Tunnel, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to stop.
The “dirty” dancer with sparkling eyes stole all his fantasies since he first saw her. Christ, he had turned down a night of hot, no-strings-attached sex with Lucinda the night before because he couldn’t get Sienna out of his head.
Tonight when she came over to him, he didn’t even know what to say. He lost his words over a woman, which was about as unusual as Sienna walking the club floor on a weekend night.
Actually, fucking rare, as in it never happened to him. Ever. And from what everyone said, Sienna Flower never walked the floor on Fridays, and she definitely didn’t approach patrons alone.
Yet she had walked right out into the crowd and stopped at his table, waiting for him to say something, make the first move. And he simply said, “Hi.”
Smooth. Real smooth moves, idiot.
Carson had really wanted to ask her to dinner. Somewhere nice. Go to a quiet place and stare at her. Have her all to himself, not in a room full of men who were all fantasizing about her. He wanted her to have only eyes for him while sharing cocktails, and then ravage her afterward.
Fucking ravage her. Every inch of her.
What did all this mean? Did he want to date her? Have a relationship with her?
She’s a stripper. She takes off her clothes for money. And I don’t date.
Christ, he was hard just thinking about her standing next to his table, leaning up against the chair. He had never wished to be a damn chair before in his life. Her little nightie-thing with the pink thong peeking through it had controlled his thoughts from the second she walked up next to the empty seat at his table. He’d never wanted to touch a woman so badly, and he couldn’t stop thinking about who else had touched her.
He needed to forget about who else had touched her, because the thought made Carson want to kill them.
What the hell was he thinking? How could he become addicted to a stripper? Let alone, ask her out to coffee on a little slip of paper like he was in high school? Fucking fool.
He was a good-looking dude; he knew that. He didn’t need to pay someone to fuck him, but she didn’t have sex with men for money. She made an honest living stripping.
This was what was rolling through his head when the text came through. He could tell she was obviously on edge with her curt text message, but he was still happy as all fuck to get it. He’d bet that when she sent the text, she probably hoped he wouldn’t reply. Oh, but he did.
Carson was ex-FBI and he knew how to read a person. He knew that if he didn’t respond quickly to her text, there would be no second chance with Sienna. He knew enough from watching Sienna dance (and googling her) that she was a loner, stayed to herself, and let no one in close. But she was texting him.
I am going to get her in bed and fuck her right out of my system.
Then he was going to wrap up his current case, spend some time in the Bahamas, and come back and only take well-vetted jobs. He’d agreed to coffee with Sienna, but in reality wanted much more. And he was unsure about whether he could get it.
Do I really want her?
And if I have her, will I be able to let her go?
The plan was set to meet the next day, and now Carson was even further away from sleep as he lay on his king-sized hotel bed. His hand roamed down his own abdomen and he gripped himself hard. For a man who prided himself on his lasting power, it didn’t take long to get himself off with his own hand.