Chapter Four

She stared up at him, cheeks flushed, lips swollen, hair messy, and he’d never seen a more beautiful woman than Scarlett, in bed with him, gasping for air, looking three seconds from either punching him, running, or kissing him until he forgot everything else in this world except her and making her scream his name. His fake name.

Her grip on him tightened, but then she let go. For a second, disappointment hit him hard. He’d scared her off. Said too much. Been too aggressive. Scarlett had seemed like a girl who appreciated a man who took control, but he must have read her wrong.

Just as he was about to push back off the mattress, gather his shit, and go, she shoved her hand inside his boxers, closed her palm over his cock, and squeezed. “Bring. It. On.”

The feel of her skin on his like that…shit.

He was going to have to use every fucking ounce of control he could muster to keep his cool. There was something about Scarlett, and how she made everything into a challenge of sorts, that turned him on too damned much. She was a challenge he needed to win.

One he would win.

This night was just that. A night. But he’d give her something to remember him by for the rest of her goddamn life…even if it killed him.

He pushed off the bed, shoved his boxers down, and rolled a condom onto his aching cock. She watched him, mouth parted, eyes wide, resting her weight on her elbow. After the condom was firmly in place, he crawled up her body and melded his mouth to hers, slipping between her thighs again, thrusting his fingers inside her and twisting them just right to make her scream.

And then he did it again.

And again.

She screamed, and he swallowed the sound, teasing her nipple as he fucked her with his hand, bringing her right to the edge of the abyss, then pulling back. She moaned and hit his arm, and he laughed. Being with her…

It was fun.

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had fun…especially in bed.

There was something about her that brought out a playful side that he’d almost forgotten existed. He wasn’t complaining. He loved his life. But he’d forgotten how to have fun.

And he hadn’t realized that until tonight.

He broke off the kiss and slid down her body, leaving little love bites as he went. Her shoulder. The curve of her breast. Her rib. Over her belly button. The inside of her left thigh. When he ran his tongue over the edge of her panties, she groaned, buried her hands in his hair, and pushed his head south. “Chris. Please.”

Some small part of Mark stiffened at the name that wasn’t his coming from her lips, but he kept quiet, because she’d been very clear that she didn’t want to know him. Instead, he put his mouth to better use. With a hard, quick tug, her panties were gone. He slid his hands under her perfect ass, lifted her up, and rolled his tongue over her core.

She dug her heels into the mattress, tightened her knees on either side of his head, and lifted her hips, straining to get even closer. His stomach tightened, his cock ached to be inside of her, but first he needed to see if she tasted as delicious as she smelled. Slowly, he closed his mouth over her swollen flesh, sucking on her gently enough to make her feel good, but not so gentle that it wouldn’t drive her crazy. He dragged the side of his tongue over her slowly, and damn it, she did taste good.

Like heaven.

She cried out, rocking against him wildly, her nails digging into his scalp as she fisted his hair roughly. As he fucked her with his mouth, she moved against him with abandon, and it was as intoxicating as her taste. She rolled her hips in a circle, and he scraped his teeth against her, giving her that edge she needed. Tensing up, she cried out, her knees squeezing his head slightly as she collapsed on the mattress. He slid back up her body, buried his face in her neck, and positioned himself at her entry. “Hold on tight, Scar.”

She did. She wrapped herself around him securely, and it was the best damn feeling in the world—second to only one other thing. He shifted, placed his hands under her ass, lifted her up, and slid inside her in one smooth, hard stroke. As he did, he made sure to rub against her clit, and she tensed, eyes wide, and came again. She closed around him, and she tightened her grip as he bit down on the side of her neck, sucking as he pulled out then thrust back inside her with crystal clear precision. Sweat broke out on his forehead as he held himself back.

He needed to make her come one more time before—

“Chris?” she said, her breathy voice crashing over him like a tidal wave.

He shifted his hips, driving inside her again. After she moaned, he asked, “Yeah?”

“Fuck. Me. Hard.” She cradled his face tenderly, and she dug her heels into the sides of his ass hard at the same time, mixing pleasure with almost pain. “Now.”

Something inside him snapped, and he stopped holding back, stopped trying to take his time. He just fucking lost it, slammed his mouth down on hers, and moved inside her with an animalistic need that he couldn’t fight or deny even if he wanted to.

She clung to him, her hands roaming lightly over him like she was trying to memorize him by touch, driving him insane with her almost non-existent strokes. He did the same, since this would be their only night together. Her hips. Her thigh. The soft swell of her breast. She was so smooth and soft, where he was hard and rough. He couldn’t get enough of her.

Every thrust, every drive, sent him closer to the edge. It had been so long, too long, since he’d been like this with a woman, and he wanted to bring her with him one last time. Lifting her up slightly, tilting her just right, he slammed into her again, and again, and again, until she came, her walls squeezing him torturously tight. Groaning, he thrust into her one last time, his own climax hitting him like a bullet, sending him flying into the sky and back.

Letting out a soft groan, he collapsed on top of her, making sure to keep the bulk of his weight off her. Her damp flesh clung to his, her nails were still buried in his back, and her breaths rose and fell in tandem with his own. That was…Jesus.

That had been fucking amazing.

She let out a shattered breath. “Wow.”

“Yeah.” He rose up on his elbows, smiling down at her. She looked so damn beautiful, lying there underneath him with red lips and rosy cheeks. “Wow.”

She swallowed hard and shifted underneath him. “So…” Tapping his arm, she gave him a shy smile. “That was fun.”

“Oh. Right.” Here he’d been thinking about how nice it would be to stay there, buried inside her, and maybe go for a round two…and she was wondering when he’d get the hell off her. Wincing, he pulled out of her body, rolled off the bed, and stood, all in one fluid motion. Dragging his hands down his face, he stared at her. She was perfection in the human form. Soft skin. Rosy nipples. Skinny waist. Generous hips. But more importantly, she’d reminded him what it felt like to be alive. She’d given him that. He’d fucked a lot of women. He had no idea how many. He didn’t keep count. But he’d never forget this. Never forget his Scarlett. It was a strange feeling. “That was…I…”

She sat up, tugging the blanket up and biting her lower lip. It was a shy thing, a modest pose, even, but on her…it looked sexy as hell. Especially since her red hair was a wild, untamed mess around her head. “I know. Me, too.”

At a loss for words—what the hell was he supposed to say after that—he smiled and pointed over his shoulder. “I’m going to wash up, and then I’ll go.”

She stared at him blankly. “Okay.”

Was it just him, or did she look disappointed when he mentioned leaving?

He rubbed the back of his neck, shot her another smile, and headed for the bathroom. Quietly, he shut the door behind him and let out a few choice curses under his breath. He was out of his comfort zone tonight. Normally, he would have found nothing wrong with fucking Scarlett and leaving her naked in her bed alone, because that’s what he did.

But he didn’t want just one time with Scarlett.

He wanted another taste of her, and the magic she wove to make him forget why he wasn’t supposed to be falling for some girl in a damn hotel bar. He wasn’t free to take risks on women who might not want to date a guy with a kid, and he wasn’t the type of guy to be okay with a girl not wanting to be a part of his kid’s life.

Ginny was fucking amazing.

Any woman would be lucky to meet her.

Scarlett, as much fun as she was, would probably run in the opposite direction if he told her he was the single father of a three-year-old girl. He’d seen it happen enough times to know how that conversation would end. It was why he’d stopped trying to actually date and stuck to casual sex. First, she’d smile. Then she’d say how cute it was that he was raising a daughter on his own. And how sad she was for his loss. Then she’d mention how brave he was to embark on that world of pink bows and braids—which he could fucking rock, thank you very much—without a wife by his side. And then…

He’d never hear from her again.

She’d ghost him.

They had to keep it as it was, with fake names and no real details about one another, so they didn’t ruin what they had with one another with reality. After taking care of the condom and chucking it in the trash, he washed up. Hands on the edges of the sink, he stared at himself in the mirror, breathing unevenly, and thought of the woman back in her bed, waiting for him to leave. He would go. He’d walk away without giving her his name, or anything real about him.

But, damn it, he didn’t want to.

He shut off the water, dried his face, tossed the towel on the floor under the sink, and opened the door slowly. The lights were off, and she lay on her side, facing away from him. He bent down and searched the floor in the darkness for his boxers, trying his best to be quiet so he didn’t wake her. If he could just get enough of his shit together to—

“Stay the night?” she asked softly. So softly he thought he might have imagined it at first. “Hold me close? I don’t want to be alone right now.”

He hesitated.

That was a whole other thing than a mutual agreement to appease one another’s needs, so to speak. But…he’d agreed to be here for her, for whatever she required, for one night. That night wasn’t over yet. And even though holding her as he slept felt way too damn intimate for a one-night stand, she would be out of his life tomorrow, and this intimacy of the softer variety would be in the past. It had been a hell of a long time since he’d held a naked woman in his arms as she fell asleep. Clearing his throat, he dropped his boxers on the floor, and walked over to the king sized bed. “Of course.”

As he climbed in behind her, she snuggled back against him, and something weird happened in his chest. A warmth spread through him, something he wasn’t familiar with. It was like holding this woman in his arms made him…happy. What. The. Actual. Fuck?

“Thank you,” she whispered. “Chris.”

That warmth? Yeah. It spread at her soft words. He wiggled closer, spooning her, and kissed the back of her shoulder. She was still warm to the touch, and as naked as he was. “No. Thank you. I needed that as much as you, if not more.”

She glanced over her shoulder at him. He couldn’t make out many details in the dark, but her eyes were wide open, and she stared at him curiously. “Are you happy now?”

He thought about it. “Right now? Right here? Yeah. I’m pretty damn happy.” He hesitated, then kissed her shoulder again, just because he fucking felt like it. “Are you?”

She took a breath, then nodded, not speaking.

When she didn’t say anything, he kissed her shoulder again, using his teeth to bite gently, because her soft ass was pressed against his cock, and damn it all to hell, he wanted another taste. They’d promised each other a night…and the sun wasn’t up yet.

This time, a small moan escaped her. He started to shift closer, to roll her underneath him, but then she asked, “Does it make you feel bad that you’re happy right now?”

“I—” That was a tricky question. Tina was dead, and had been for a long time. She wasn’t coming back. But guilt…ah. That was an emotion he was all too familiar with. He drowned in it on a daily basis, every time his baby girl woke up without her mother at her side. But he didn’t feel bad for sleeping with another woman. For wanting another woman. Sex was sex. It was chemistry, and biology, and a release of tension. That’s it. “No.”

“Me, either,” she whispered, rolling to face him. They locked eyes in the darkness, and she reached out tentatively, brushing his hair off his forehead. “This feels too nice to be wrong.”

He didn’t say anything.

Couldn’t.

Something stuck in his throat, choking him.

So instead, he rolled on top of her, cradled her small, perfect face in his hands, and kissed her tenderly, trailing his thumb over her soft skin as his mouth ravished hers. Some things weren’t worth articulating. Some things were better shown than said. So he showed her just how much tonight meant to him. Each kiss, each caress, was a sentence he’d never say to her, because this would end between them before it even began.

And then, in the morning, when the sun started to rise…

He walked away.

Just like he promised.