A couple with a teenage son stepped onto the elevator, eyeing them. It had to be obvious what they’d interrupted. It was to Wade, in any event. Trina diverted her gaze from the other couple, her chest heaving as she sucked in silent breaths.
The kid watched them as the elevator made its way up. The parents looked away in silence.
Trina licked her lips.
Wade felt the need to wipe his.
The door opened on the floor of the hotel’s view restaurant and let the family out.
It was Wade’s turn to twist Trina into the wall of the elevator.
Her hands were in his hair, her body molded to his, their lips fused together.
This time, when the elevator announced an arrival to a floor, Wade glanced up to see the penthouse suites level. Instead of breaking her off, he lifted her up and encouraged her legs to wrap around his waist.
He felt her purse slip from her shoulder and catch on her arm as he walked her to the door of their room. Trina’s teeth caught on his neck like a vampire searching for fuel. He pressed her against the door, probably too hard, but she didn’t stop.
Wade found his wallet and slid the electronic key from behind his credit card. It took two swipes for the door to unlock. Once behind the private door, he dropped his wallet, she dropped her purse, and he filled his palms with her ass as he carried her to the bedroom.
His mind focused briefly, wanting to ask if she was sure of this moment, but her teeth grazed against the lobe of his ear as she moaned.
The bed caught his knees. Wade controlled his fall on top of her as the bed cradled her back. The stability offered Trina the ability to push her hips into his. God help him, he saw bright sparks of pixie dust at the thought of sliding into her. The warmth inside his belly reminded him of his teenage years and the inability to control his body.
Ice.
Cold.
Aunt Mavis.
Jesus, he needed to get this together.
He sucked in a breath and slowed everything down.
Trina sighed with him; her fingernails ran up his back and tugged at his shirt.
Wade captured her lips and tasted the mint of her morning toothpaste before he let them go. She lifted her chin, and he kissed her neck until her shirt stopped him.
The smooth texture of her waist was warm against his palm as he inched higher. He was about to ask if she wanted this when she leaned forward and helped him remove her shirt.
She wore a plain white bra, her olive skin a stunning contrast he could sample forever.
“Sorry,” she muttered. “I wasn’t planning . . .”
He kissed the top of one breast, silencing her protest; his thumb traced the edges of her bra.
“Oh, God.”
Her head fell back.
He was kissing her, caressing her, and already she was lost . . . he felt like the God she was calling out to and wanted desperately to deliver everything she needed . . . wanted.
Wade pushed her nipple from her bra and pulled it between his teeth until the hardness resembled a large nut.
“Wade,” she called and her hips jolted.
Ice.
Winter.
Texas was hot in the winter.
Her hands found his ass and squeezed.
The moisture at the top of his cock told him to slow down.
Wade captured her hands and pulled them above her head, holding them there. “Stay,” he demanded.
His eyes met the golden depths of hers. “Please,” he added.
Her hips surged, but her hands stayed.
Wade used his lips and tongue to trail a way to her pleasure.
She was wearing cotton pants that slid off easily when she lifted her hips. Wade tossed them to the floor, along with his shirt, as he kicked off the sneakers he didn’t normally wear. He was never so happy to not be fighting with a pair of tight boots when he returned his tongue and lips to Trina’s hip.
“Sorry,” Trina said, her hips reacting to his touch.
“You have nothing to be sorry about.” He could sense her need as his own.
“Granny panties. I didn’t think . . .”
Wade wanted to laugh, didn’t dare. Plain white, nothing special, yet everything he could ever want. “Hello, Nana.”
Trina chuckled and relaxed once he shifted her undies aside and said hello with his tongue.
He liked this part, and yet seldom had the opportunity to linger for long . . . until now. She tasted like honey. As much as he knew that was a metaphor, he couldn’t help but think it was true. Trina opened to him, her back arched, her foot pressed into his spine as he searched for the part of her that drove the sadness from her eyes. When he found it, he worked it, ignoring his own body until long after her nails left marks, and her honey changed and tasted like sangria. She pulled his hair, forcing him away.
Even as she caught her breath, her hand searched him out.
“Please,” she breathed. “It’s been too long.”
Artic.
Ice.
Her hand cupped him through his jeans.
It took two seconds to kick them off and feel her beautiful fingers taking in the length of him.
She chuckled. “Do they grow everything big in Texas?”
He used her laughter to slow things down as he buried his head in her shoulder. “That’s a line.”
“Guilty,” she said as she bucked her hips and rolled him onto his back.
The levity was his short reprieve before he felt her hair cascade against his thigh.
He was smiling, confident, and then the warmth of her mouth covered him, and Wade’s eyes rolled to the back of his head.
Yes . . .
He was going to lose it . . .
Ice.
Aunt freakin’ Mavis has a really warm . . . oh, God.
He pushed her away. “Not yet.”
Trina chuckled as she crawled up his frame and straddled her hips with his.
“Wade?”
He opened his eyes.
The heat of her hovered over the length of him.
“I have an IUD. I’m clean since—”
He broke off her words with his lips.
Wade pushed her away when she started to melt. “I have a condom in my wallet.”
“Are you not . . . ?”
“I’m good, darlin’. I just don’t want you to worry.”
Even though the shift in thought dampened the mood, Wade twisted Trina to the side and rolled out of bed.
He grabbed his forgotten jeans off the floor to find them devoid of his wallet before he remembered the fumbling of the room key.
Trina lay sprawled on the bed in the middle of the day, one leg bent in a pose worthy of any skin magazine he’d ever used as a kid, while Wade scrambled from the room to the front of their suite in search of his wallet.
He half expected her to be asleep when he returned.
Instead, she sat up on her elbows like a goddess, with her granny panties half on and half off the bed, the sparkle in her eyes.
What a beautiful goddess she was.
Trina’s gaze washed him up and down, lingering briefly at his cock.
“I want to taste you again.”
He twitched and all but jumped into bed.
They were arms and legs . . . lips and tongues, and no sooner did he manage to open the condom and cover the length of him than Trina was pulling him home.
She was tight. Snowdrifts on the Alps or he was going to explode tight.
She moaned, long and slow. Then, and only then, did she slow down and let him catch up.
Wade set the pace, his hips and hands . . . lips and tongue, everything moved in slow motion. “I have you,” he told her, no longer having to think about Alaska to give this woman what she wanted. All he had to think of was her.
The glory of being the one to make her call his name stroked his ego in ways he hadn’t felt before. When she moved faster, her nails digging deep, he kept his own tide back until the gentle squeeze of her pulsated and made him lose control one final time.
They were a heap of hot, sweaty, gasping flesh in the middle of the afternoon.
Wade held her tight and wrapped a free leg around her as he came to rest at her side. He’d like to say he hadn’t had so many encounters in his sexual life to compare this one to the next . . . but he’d be lying. This one left him dazed. World-changing and life-altering dazed.
“Wade,” Trina said, her breath slow and hot on his chest.
“Yeah, darlin’?”
“Was that—?”
He pulled the comforter over the two of them, felt his body slip from hers. “It sure was, hon.”
She snuggled in, and God bless America, Trina fell asleep before he could close his eyes.
Chapter Twenty-Two
The glow of the setting sun spilled through the floor to ceiling windows of the penthouse suite. Trina’s eyes fluttered open and reality seeped in. She wasn’t alone. Wade slept soundly beside her, his arm was her pillow, her leg draped over his.
She smiled.
The memory of their lovemaking swirled like a hurricane in her head. She’d attacked him, flat-out threw him against the wall, and didn’t let up until she was done . . . twice.
God, she felt good. Although she should be embarrassed by her behavior, she couldn’t bring herself to care. She’d been reckless, and Wade had been responsible. She would have gladly accepted him into her body without protection, which was stupid when she stopped to think about it now, but he resisted.
What had he said again? Oh, yeah, so she wouldn’t worry. And she would have. Wade “Country Star” Thomas had the opportunity to sleep with beautiful women all over the world. While he didn’t seem the type to take advantage of that every night, she’d be crazy to think he didn’t dip often.
Thanks to him, she wasn’t worried. Besides, condomless sex was reserved for exclusive relationships. That wasn’t something on the table this early in the dance.