Chapter Ten

Seriously. Who is this guy?

Wes and Jeremy were fourteen when they started hanging out. Annie never gave him a second glance. She was a senior and he—he wasn’t even shaving yet. He was her little brother’s little friend.

A boy.

Not the man standing in front of her, at least a head taller than she was, his hand braced on the elevator wall as she leaned against the rail protruding from it. Not the man whose mouth was inches from hers, so close they were probably fighting for the oxygen molecules between them. That ridiculously sexy five o’clock shadow was enough to convince her that he had made it past puberty—and then some.

He wanted to kiss her now, right here, to make sure she didn’t want to back out? Annie was the one leading him to her room, the one with one bed. She was the one convincing him to blow off whatever guy code existed between him and her brother for one night of whatever this was.

Either he was an example of the utmost in chivalry, or he just wanted this as badly as she did. So why the hell wait?

She grabbed his tie just below the knot and tugged him past those last few inches.

“What do I say, Wes?” she whispered, echoing his question. “I say show me what the hell you’ve got.”

If there was magic in words other than the ones the professionals put to paper, it was in everything he said to her tonight, and everything left unsaid yet spoken with this kiss. She felt a tender ache in her chest as his tongue slipped past her lips, his movement deliciously slow and driving her mad all at the same time. His hips pressed to her belly, and she cursed her broken shoes that would have given her the advantage of extra height. Now she moaned softly against him, rising on her toes in an attempt to slide up his hard length.

“Christ, Annie,” he whispered. Then his hands were on her hips, and he was lifting her so she now sat on the small railing. There was no way she could sit there on her own, but he pushed her knees open and hiked her skirt up to the top of her thighs, holding her there with his weight, his erection firm as she throbbed against him.

“Is this what you want?”

His voice was rough in her ear, and the only thing she could do was squeak out a small yes.

His hand slid up her thigh, his thumb skimming the seam of her panties. Oh God, did I wear good underwear? Annie thought she’d had her mind made up about Wes before he’d shown up tonight, so much so that what she had on under her dress hadn’t crossed her mind. Because no way in hell was the evening going in this direction when she’d convinced herself he was Ethan, the not-a-romance hero.

But now it was, and come heaven or hell, she did not want him to stop. She did, however, need to do a panty check before things went any further. But Wes’s lips were on her neck, hot and full of need, and one of those thumbs had just slipped under the panty seam, and Annie lost her train of thought as he swirled that thumb over her wet, swollen center.

She cried out softly, thankfully quiet enough that she still heard the ding of the elevator reaching its destination.

Wes withdrew his hands so quickly that she nearly toppled off the railing, but he caught her in his arms and even had the forethought to smooth down the skirt of her dress so her—yep—pink, Lydia Bennet YOLO boy briefs would not be on display for all hotel patrons to see. She supposed she’d have some explaining to do later, but for now she had to focus on staying upright.

The doors opened to the fifth floor and a young couple waiting to head downstairs.

Scratch that. It wasn’t just some random couple.

“Annie,” Brett said, and Tabitha smiled uncomfortably beside him. “You’re on the fifth floor, too? Of course.”

His expression was pained, and Annie could only imagine what she and Wes looked like. Her lips felt swollen from his kisses, and her lipstick had probably gone the way of scary clown at this point. Wes’s stubble had rubbed against her jaw and neck, which had surely turned her pale skin a bright red.

“We’re room five-eleven,” Annie said, wondering what the karma gods had in store for her—or Brett and Tabitha.

Brett closed his eyes and shook his head. “We’re five-thirteen.”

“Next-door neighbors!” Tabitha cried with a grin. She must have quickly realized the circumstances were horrific rather than fortunate because her smile fell almost as quickly as it had appeared.

Annie stretched her arms and feigned a yawn.

“Well, we better get to our room. I’m beat after all that dancing. But you two enjoy the rest of the wedding.”

Wes gave the other couple a silent nod, and Annie grabbed his hand—the one that had just snuck inside her underwear—and led him out of the elevator. She needed him behind closed doors again. And fast.

“Don’t you guys have overnight bags or something?” Brett called after them. She could hear the twinge of jealousy in his voice, and she wasn’t going to lie to herself. She enjoyed it even if she had no intention of winning him back.

She waved at the other couple over her shoulder and simply yelled back, “Don’t need ’em!” stifling a giggle as she did.

“I think you just won the breakup,” Wes said as they made it to the door.

Annie glanced back toward the elevators, but Brett and Tabitha were gone. She shoved her clutch under her arm. With both of her index fingers, she grabbed Wes by his belt loops.

“Actually, I consider that little interruption quite a setback for the team. The only way I’m winning anything tonight is if you finish what you just started in that elevator.”

He grabbed her purse and withdrew the room card, inserting it into the slot on the door. Then—click. The door opened, and he backed her inside, kicking it shut behind him.

“Whoa,” he said. Annie turned to follow his gaze.

“Whoa is right,” she added as they both set their gazes on the mammoth bed covered in a bright blue duvet and enough pillows for four people.

“Pretty sure the slogan on the website was A blissful honeymoon in every room!”

“Annie Denning,” he said, spinning her to face him again and walking her slowly toward the bed. “I will finish and start again as many times as you want me to.”

She swallowed. “Sounds blissful,” she said, her voice a throaty whisper.

Her legs hit the bed frame, and the mattress was so high she had to hoist herself onto it with her hands. She reached for his palm and pulled until it rested on her thigh. Then she dragged his fingers up, up, until they found where they were only minutes ago.

“More, please,” she said.

His jaw clenched, and his muscles ticked.

“Are you sure, Annie? I don’t want you to have any regrets in the morning.”

She nodded, then dropped to her back on the bed and kicked off her boots. To avoid any further discussion about regrets or her goofy underwear, she simply slid the briefs down her legs and let them fall to the floor.

“More,” she said again, the word slow and drawn out. “Please.”

She took his palm in hers again, placing it gingerly against her mound. He climbed up next to her so they were both sprawled width-wise across the giant bed, propping himself on the elbow of his free arm, the other waiting.

Waiting for what?

“Show me,” he said, his voice gravel rough as the tip of one finger gently slipped past her opening.

Annie breathed in sharply.

“Show me what you like,” he added.

So she did, her palm flat atop his, guiding him down slowly as he plunged deep and explored inside her. Then she slid his hand up toward her stomach until he had left her completely.

“Two fingers this time,” she whispered, and he kissed her as he obeyed, letting her set the pace as he filled her once again—his movement slow and deliberate, her hand still leading his. Long, slow, agonizingly wonderful. She’d never felt anything like it before.

“Annie,” he said softly. “This might be one of the sexiest things I’ve ever done.”

She let out a small giggle, but they still moved in tandem. She’d read the book, the one with the spectacular sex scenes, and now she’d met one of Ethan’s exes in the flesh. She wondered how much truth really did bleed into fiction.

“Really?” she argued. “Just looking at Oksana has to be the sexiest thing anyone has ever done, men and women included. And now that I know she’s Natasha?” She threw a hand over her mouth, but the words came out anyway. “Now that I know she’s Natasha, I’m killing the mood while you are doing perfectly lovely things to me.”

He shook his head.

“Annie.” He kissed her neck, and she let out a quiet hum. “I’m not letting you ruin this for yourself. This?” He tilted his head up and watched their hands perform their slow dance. “Doing this with you? It’s the fucking sexiest thing a girl has ever asked me to do.” He kissed her again. “No. Scratch that.”

See? She was right. Oksana wins at sexy.

“It’s even better because it’s with the most beautiful woman I’ve ever had the privilege to touch.”

This time, as their hands traveled back toward her belly, he paused to spread her wet heat where she ached for it most. Her back arched at the unexpected pleasure, and she decided to ride the wave instead of arguing her point further.

“Let me finish what I started, Annie.”

And that was that. Wes took the reins, pumping his fingers inside her and sliding his body down the length of hers to let his mouth take care of what she needed on the outside.

Her eyes rolled back in her head, but Annie was sure she saw stars as she gripped the bedspread and bucked against Wes’s extremely talented hand and mouth. His tongue circled her swollen clit while one of his fingers found the place to make her burst at the seams. She cried out when she finally couldn’t take any more, her arms splayed at her sides and her legs dangling over the edge of the bed.

Wes looked up at her from where he had just performed his magic and grinned.

“If you ever argue with me again about how sexy you are, Annie Denning, I’m going to have to do that again.”

She let out a soft whimper, one she hoped conveyed that she was going to need a nap before anything like that happened again. But she had enough energy for him.

“I really, really should repay you,” she said dreamily. “I mean, I want to.”

She pushed herself to sitting, her limbs like Jell-O, but she was anything if not determined. She reached for him and urged him toward her.

He didn’t argue, didn’t say another word as she pushed him gently to his back and undid his tie. Next went the buttons of his shirt, and with each one she grew greedier, less gentle, until she tore the last one free and it popped off completely and flew to the floor.

“I’m sorry!” she said, wide eyed, but then started laughing.

“Don’t be.” Wes’s voice was low with an undeniably sexy rasp. “I admire your enthusiasm.”

That was all the encouragement she needed before flicking open the button of his pants and tugging them and his boxer briefs to his ankles. He kicked off his boots, and then his garments were no more.

She sat above him and his proud length, her throat bobbing.

“I take it all back,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

He propped himself on his elbows, his brows furrowed. “Take what back?”

“All those things I said about your sex scenes being too good. That Ethan’s—talent had to be you compensating for something.”

He tilted his head back and laughed. “You never said that.”

She nodded. “Yeah, I did. Just not to you.” She wrapped her palm around him, stroking him once from root to tip, and he groaned. “I’d say I stand corrected.”

And with that her lips were on him, tongue swirling as her mouth followed her hand down to where it had started and back up again, her palm now slick against his erection. He hissed, and she smiled before she sank over him again, and again, and again, savoring the taste of him with slow, determined movements until her name fell from his lips like it was some sort of revelation.

And it was. He was.

She’d had her mind made up about him the second he walked into her bookshop. But now? Now she climbed up next to him and rested her head on his shoulder as he lay grinning, satiated—and she had been the one to put that smile on his face.

They were both spent and sprawled on the bed. And as her eyes fluttered shut, the same thought continued to dance around in her head.

Who is this guy?

And who was she when she was with him? The answer was what scared her the most.

Herself.

The whole night Annie had been 100 percent Annie, and she’d never felt more comfortable in her own skin.