hour and waited for the Mounties to show up. Isn't there a
law about sex in a public place, indecent exposure, whatever? She had to admit,
the risk of discovery added fuel to the roaring lust fire burning between them.
How many times did he make her come, five, six? And where was he during some of
that heated, hot, animal sex? She tried to speak to him and he didn't answer.
He just-pounded away, worked her nub and sucked on her breast. Her fingers moved
over the faint mark he left. It burned and throbbed like it was alive. Just
like her whole body, alive in a way she did not think possible.
What did he mean by that parting statement, “never felt that with
any woman, ever.” Not even his wife? Those words alone kept her awake all night.
Yes, lots to talk about, like the split condom. She thought she could feel his
release, hot and thick rushing into the deepest parts of her. She thought she
imagined it. She wasn't on the pill and her periods were irregular, so it was hard
to gauge if she was ovulating or not. Now she had more worry and sleepless nights.
It would be just her damned luck to get pregnant from a wild, one-night stand.
No way. She shook her head. She was not going
there.
She stood before her open
closet. She had no idea if Tristan was going to serve her dinner. He never
mentioned it. She had better have something to eat before she left. What to
wear? Perhaps she could wear something easy for quick, naughty sex, like a
dress and no underwear. Dare she? Tristan awakened her inner wanton, that's for
sure. A front clasp bra was also in order as she was too large to go without
one. Hell, she would show up naked at his door if she could.
As Katrina moved her
few outfits along the pole, another thought clenched her heart. Maybe he was
having her to his house to let her down gently. No, a man like Tristan would do
it in a public place. He would walk away with that cool, indifferent look on
his face, the way he walked away from the woman on the dance floor at the pub.
Would he move on to the next conquest? She must've imagined what existed between
them. He was a womanizer by his own admission. She shook her head. No, there
was more here. How she knew she wasn’t sure. She had no vast experience to draw
on. She only knew what her heart told her. She held up a white cotton summer
dress with small green leaves in the design. This would do.
Two hours later as
she drove down the private gravel road leading to Tristan’s house, she marveled
at the scenery and the breathtaking view. There were only a few homes on this
hidden drive and all were large waterfront estates that reeked of money and
opulence. Tristan’s was the last. The
property had a circular driveway that led to a lower level two-car garage
surrounded by perfectly manicured lawns and shrubs. It was an old Victorian era
home that had seen a few remodels complete with wraparound porch and multiple
balconies. The house even had a widow’s walk overlooking the ocean. Holy hell
he was rich, though the Benz convertible was a dead giveaway. She turned off
the engine. Tristan stood in a large picture window and gazed at her with arms
crossed and brows furrowed. The room had
windows that wrapped around to the other side of the house. He was waiting for
her expectantly, or so she imagined. Katrina sat for a minute to catch her breath. He hadn’t moved, just
continued to stare at her with an intensity that had her nerve endings
sparking. He was wearing a v-neck sweater of light gray wool and it hugged
every muscled plane of his upper torso. Why did she have the sudden urge to
break the damned big window and jump his very fine bones?
Taking a deep breath,
she climbed out of her Chevy Malibu rental and walked toward his front door.
Finally, he moved from the window. He
had the door opened before she reached the front entrance. He stepped outside
and moved toward her with a steely purpose. Cupping her face, he lowered his
head and kissed her, really kissed
law about sex in a public place, indecent exposure, whatever? She had to admit,
the risk of discovery added fuel to the roaring lust fire burning between them.
How many times did he make her come, five, six? And where was he during some of
that heated, hot, animal sex? She tried to speak to him and he didn't answer.
He just-pounded away, worked her nub and sucked on her breast. Her fingers moved
over the faint mark he left. It burned and throbbed like it was alive. Just
like her whole body, alive in a way she did not think possible.
What did he mean by that parting statement, “never felt that with
any woman, ever.” Not even his wife? Those words alone kept her awake all night.
Yes, lots to talk about, like the split condom. She thought she could feel his
release, hot and thick rushing into the deepest parts of her. She thought she
imagined it. She wasn't on the pill and her periods were irregular, so it was hard
to gauge if she was ovulating or not. Now she had more worry and sleepless nights.
It would be just her damned luck to get pregnant from a wild, one-night stand.
No way. She shook her head. She was not going
there.
She stood before her open
closet. She had no idea if Tristan was going to serve her dinner. He never
mentioned it. She had better have something to eat before she left. What to
wear? Perhaps she could wear something easy for quick, naughty sex, like a
dress and no underwear. Dare she? Tristan awakened her inner wanton, that's for
sure. A front clasp bra was also in order as she was too large to go without
one. Hell, she would show up naked at his door if she could.
As Katrina moved her
few outfits along the pole, another thought clenched her heart. Maybe he was
having her to his house to let her down gently. No, a man like Tristan would do
it in a public place. He would walk away with that cool, indifferent look on
his face, the way he walked away from the woman on the dance floor at the pub.
Would he move on to the next conquest? She must've imagined what existed between
them. He was a womanizer by his own admission. She shook her head. No, there
was more here. How she knew she wasn’t sure. She had no vast experience to draw
on. She only knew what her heart told her. She held up a white cotton summer
dress with small green leaves in the design. This would do.
Two hours later as
she drove down the private gravel road leading to Tristan’s house, she marveled
at the scenery and the breathtaking view. There were only a few homes on this
hidden drive and all were large waterfront estates that reeked of money and
opulence. Tristan’s was the last. The
property had a circular driveway that led to a lower level two-car garage
surrounded by perfectly manicured lawns and shrubs. It was an old Victorian era
home that had seen a few remodels complete with wraparound porch and multiple
balconies. The house even had a widow’s walk overlooking the ocean. Holy hell
he was rich, though the Benz convertible was a dead giveaway. She turned off
the engine. Tristan stood in a large picture window and gazed at her with arms
crossed and brows furrowed. The room had
windows that wrapped around to the other side of the house. He was waiting for
her expectantly, or so she imagined. Katrina sat for a minute to catch her breath. He hadn’t moved, just
continued to stare at her with an intensity that had her nerve endings
sparking. He was wearing a v-neck sweater of light gray wool and it hugged
every muscled plane of his upper torso. Why did she have the sudden urge to
break the damned big window and jump his very fine bones?
Taking a deep breath,
she climbed out of her Chevy Malibu rental and walked toward his front door.
Finally, he moved from the window. He
had the door opened before she reached the front entrance. He stepped outside
and moved toward her with a steely purpose. Cupping her face, he lowered his
head and kissed her, really kissed
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