Strike to the Heart(4)

We exited the restaurant, but it wasn’t dark. New York City was never truly dark, even in the earliest hours of the morning. There were always flashing signs and headlights. A glow sat over the city, giving slight illumination to everything.

Zane stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and kissed my hand. “I have a room. A suite. Come with me.”

I wanted to. I couldn’t believe how much I wanted to. But that niggling sense of caution was clanging in the back of my head. I didn’t even know this guy and, though he seemed normal so far, I didn’t want to be stupid.

Zane kissed my cheek and nibbled down to my neck. “We can catch a cab.”

I pulled back. “I’d be lying if I didn’t say I was tempted. But I don’t know anything about you. Hell, I don’t even know your name.”

He looked startled. “You don’t?”

“What do you mean?” I thought back, but I couldn’t recall him saying his last name.

Zane laughed. “You really don’t know?”

“You said your name was Zane.”

“It is. Zane Ryan. It doesn’t seem familiar?”

“Uh, no? Should it?”

“Listen, I don’t want to sound like a jerk and say everyone should know who I am, but I’m somewhat well-known.”

Confused and uncomfortable, I mumbled, “Okay.”

“You have your phone? You can Google it.”

I dug in my purse for my phone. Seconds later, Zane’s picture loaded under the headline Mandalay Bay MMA Fight Takes in Record Pay-Per-View Box Office. “You’re a fighter?”

“Yeah. Is that a problem?”

Was it a problem? Yeah, probably. I didn’t know, but I said, “No. I don’t really follow …”

“Mixed martial arts?”

“Yeah, I’m sorry.” I looked at his face, but my eyes slipped to his broad shoulders and down his arms. A fighter. That explained the muscles.

“I guess you’re not a fan then.” He sounded genuinely disappointed.

“Of yours or MMA?”

“Either.”

I laughed. “Okay, you got me. I don’t have anything against it. I just haven’t followed the sport.” The lie rolled off my tongue. A guy who made his living fighting wasn’t my idea of safe and stable. It didn’t fit with the promise I’d made to myself to stay away from reckless types, but it totally fit with my pattern of picking guys who were all wrong for me.

After having my heart crushed by Alex Armenti, I’d promised myself I’d show better judgment when it came to picking men and never watch Formula 1 racing again. Reckless alpha males were strictly off limits.

“Shall I drop you off at your hotel?”

I smiled. “No.” We weren’t contemplating love here. It was lust—pure, unadulterated, rolling-around-in-the-sheets lust. I was only in New York a few weeks and then I’d be off to Japan. It wasn’t likely I’d run into Zane again. There was nothing to prevent me from jumping his hot, sexy bones except my own inhibitions.

“I’m glad.”

“I want to see the rest of your tattoo.” And I did. The stylized edge of a thick line at his cuff hinted at more. I wanted to trace the design with my tongue and ride him like a cowgirl. That reminded me—no rodeo riders either. But tonight wasn’t about love, it was about greedy desire.

~ * ~ * ~

Jo

Zane’s suite was gorgeous—expansive with a great view. The furnishings were stark—white carpet, white overstuffed furniture, and bright red throw pillows. I walked through the living room and stopped to fiddle with a crooked lampshade.

“I have wine if you’d like some,” Zane offered.

I shook my head. “No, I had some alcohol earlier and I probably shouldn’t have.”

“In training, right?”

“Yes.” Zane was teasing me, but I knew he understood. He was an athlete himself.

“Well, when you’re in training, flexibility is important. And cardio. Lots of cardio.” Zane’s voice deepened and turned inviting.

I closed my eyes and smiled. “Are you offering to help me?”

“Absolutely. This is your year. Anything I can do to help …” Zane’s lips skimmed up my neck.

I shivered and turned into his arms. Our lips met and I moaned. He felt so good—so hot against me. I arched into him. It had been too long since I experienced need, want, and passion. It all swirled within me now.

Zane’s hands made their way to the front of my body and cupped my breasts. My nipples hardened under his fingers, and a bolt of pleasure echoed through my belly.

Zane swung me up into his arms and I gasped. I was heavier than I looked, but he carried me as if I weighed nothing. We headed for the bedroom.