Fiery Nights by Lisa Carlisle

existed until this
moment. He groaned in appreciation as I kissed his neck, his ears, his chest.
    He relaxed against the wall as I explored his body with my
hands and lips, both traveling down his torso. His chest, his abs, so defined I
could feel them through his fitted black T-shirt. His pants.
    My fingers danced along his waistline, tentatively wondering
what lay within. Then this brazen vixen within me who had been in seclusion for
far too long undid the top button of his black pants. One finger ventured
inside. Tristan moaned again and ran his hands through my hair.
    The vixen took over as I slid against his body, kissing his
torso as I moved down.
    “Oh God, Maya,” he said. But then he stopped me. “No. Not
here.” He pulled me up by the arms and I was facing him again. Then he said,
“But damn it, I want you.” He cupped his hands on my ass and lifted me off the
ground and I wrapped my legs around him. He turned us and pinned me against the
brick wall, rough enough that I exhaled audibly on impact.
    He kissed me harder than before, more intense. Now it was
his turn to explore me with his lips and hands. He squeezed my butt as he
explored my neck with a very skilled tongue. A tongue that made me moan in
appreciation and wonder what else it could do.
    He ran his tongue down over the tops of my breasts and I
silently thanked the gods for picking this number that allowed for some
cleavage.
    I looked around quickly to make sure nobody was walking this
way. And for people who just might happen to be in the buildings who just might
happen to look outside, well, I didn’t give a damn right then. Besides, it was
late. Nobody should be working at this hour.
    “Tristan, this is so fuckin’ hot,” I said. “Just take me.
Right here, right now. Up here against this building.”
    “You want it, baby?” he asked, kissing back up to my neck,
my sensitive area behind my ear. Could I even respond at this point? “Now?”
    “Uh-huh,” I managed.
    “How bad?”
    “Bad.”
    “You want me?”
    “Oh God, yes.”
    “Even with my—issues.”
    I tossed my head to one side against the wall. “I don’t care
about your issues right now. All I know is I want you.”
    Tristan pulled back and said, “And what about tomorrow, when
you realize how much of a freak I am?”
    “I don’t understand that just yet,” I admitted. “But we all
have something we’re hiding. Something we think makes us so different that
nobody could love us.”
    “Even you?”
    “Even me.”
    “Oh baby, now I’m even more curious. What could possibly
make you unlovable?”
    “Let’s worry about that tomorrow.”
    “You sure?”
    “Definitely.” I nodded.
    Then with a swoop, he threw me over his shoulder. I let out
a yelp and he smacked me on the ass.
    “What are you doing, Tristan?”
    “Taking you home with me. And throwing you on my bed. Not
some cemetery, not against a building—but in my bed. Where you belong.”

Chapter Four
     
    When we stumbled into Tristan’s loft, unable to keep our
hands off each other, the only thing I noticed was a bay window facing the
Atlantic. His lips captured mine and demanded more while his hands claimed the
most sensitive parts of me.
    Through this dance, he led me through the loft. Somehow I
knocked over a plant on an end table.
    “I’m so sorry!” I said, breaking free of our embrace to tend
to the destruction.
    “Leave it,” he said and we tramped through the spilled dirt
over to his bed. True to his word, Tristan threw me on the bed.
    “Ooh!” I said.
    “Too rough?”
    “No. I liked it.” I melted into the soft black comforter.
“You’re right. This feels much better than the dirt.”
    “At last, we made it back here,” he replied. “No cemetery,
no brick buildings, no potential strangers peering in on us. I have you here
now, alone, in my apartment.” He pulled off his shirt and I admired a chest
that exceeded what I felt under his shirt. “And I’m not letting you go any