The room was lit by only one small light. In a quick glance over his shoulder, Jessica took in the shadows created by the light dancing seductively on the walls. She barely glanced at the rest of the room, so mesmerized was she by this man. One thing she was now certain of, he was alone.

Licking the wetness from her lips, she accepted the towel, the intimacy of sharing it hard to ignore. Rubbing her hair, she stepped tentatively through the doorway.

His eyes, dark and mysteriously sexy, followed her path. He stood directly in front of her and didn’t seem inclined to move. Arm reaching over her shoulder, he pushed the door shut.

The action put him so close their faces came mere inches apart. The towel was forgotten. She could feel him even without ever physically claiming to touch. His scent, a woodsy, clean smell wrapped around her, enhancing the feeling of invisible touches.

Their eyes locked. Slowly, he took the towel from her hand and wrapped it around her, holding it on either side of her body and cocooning them together. “I’m glad you decided to come inside, mi Hermosa.”

She gulped. He had said something complimentary in Spanish. She knew that much. And for some reason, it really got to her. Someone else could have said those words and they just wouldn’t have set her on fire the way they did from him.

Soft, sexy and incredible arousing, his voice danced along her nerve endings. She reached for words, struggling to speak coherently. “I’m still not sure I should be here.”

“No?” he asked, his eyes searching her face. “I think you want to be here.” He let the towel rest on her shoulders and ran a finger down her cheek.

The touch should have scared her. The whole situation should have. Instead, she felt oddly exhilarated; in fact, she had never felt so alive and eager. Eager for what? was the question. A question she definitely wanted answered.

A tiny little light flickered in her mind. Maybe this man, this incredibly alluring stranger, held within him a means of escape from her past. Alone in a hotel with a man she hardly knew wasn’t her style. But then neither was divorce.

Circumstances had delivered her here, alone in a motel room, with a man as sexy as any of her best fantasies. Looking into this man’s obsidian eyes, she began to wonder if he could take her beyond her insecurities.

This seemed a rare opportunity to find a new her. And damn, she needed a new her. She hated how her ex had made her feel. In her professional world, she knew how to put on a show. How to seem strong and secure. But when it came to intimacy between a man and a woman, the past didn’t let go. Insecurity ruled.

A knowing look slipped into her stranger’s eyes. He repeated his words, an edge of understanding now in his voice. “Yes,” he said softly. “You want to be here.”

For the first time, in far too long, everything woman in her was awake and alert. She wanted this man. She didn’t know his name, didn’t know a thing about him, but she wanted him. “I have to be here.”

One corner of his mouth lifted, and his finger slid down her neck. “Not so. You have choices.” He paused a beat. “You’re in no danger with me.” His eyes, which had been following the path of his finger, lifted to hers. She felt his hand settle around her neck, gently touching her. “Whatever you want, you can have without fear. Comprendes?”

She didn’t know what to say. His face was slowly descending, and her moment of decision was upon her. If she kissed him, she would want more. Did she want to? Could she abandon reason and fall into this man’s arms?

Head swimming in confusion and desire, she couldn’t think. Just knowing his lips were about to be upon hers, she felt her nipples harden and throb. Wet and now aroused, they pressed against her bra, begging to be touched. The feeling sent a wave of heat across her skin and settled with a not-so-subtle impact between her thighs.

She wanted this. She wanted him.

His lips lingered above hers, breath mingled with her own, teasing her anticipation. And she understood the purpose. Understood his hesitation was a question.

Yes or no?

Thoughts, fears and a few remnants of logic raced through her mind. It was her body, though, that held the answer. Desire and physical need was controlling her, not rational thought. She let her purse slide off her shoulder, onto the ground. Then, she inched forward ever so slightly and pressed her lips to his.

Her decision was made.

It was a gentle kiss, lips pressed to lips.

He leaned back and looked at her and then whispered something in Spanish before feathering kisses on her lips. One, two, three… and then he dipped his tongue into her mouth. She felt the light brush of it against her own. She whimpered.

Jessica’s eyes fell shut and he slowly, perfectly, seduced her with his kiss. Hands at her sides, she longed to touch him. He closed the remaining space between their bodies, bringing them thigh-to-thigh and hip-to-hip.

Proof of his arousal pressed against her stomach. A thought, provocative and arousing, danced in her head.

He was hard for her.

It was an empowering realization. This sexy man wanted her. She had aroused him, made him hot for her. Suddenly, a one-night stand, no strings attached, felt liberating.

Her hands went to his waist, and the feel of his skin under her palms ignited the need to feel more. She touched him freely then, feeling the flex of muscles under her palms.

She wanted him. Really wanted him, like she had never wanted before. What was so wrong with that? It had been so very long since she had felt such need, such heat. Maybe she never had. He deepened the kiss, and a heavier fog of desire built, threatening to consume her.

No, she had never felt this kind of arousal before. It was as if a magnetic force pulled her to him, making her yearn to feel his body next to hers.

And they had only just begun.

His power to make her ache in places he didn’t touch was nothing short of amazing. This was new. This was incredible. This couldn’t be missed.

To hell with her conservative, good-girl lifestyle. For once in her life, she wanted to let go and feel. If her ex-husband had made her feel these things…she shoved the thought away. Thinking of him, her past, might mess with her head and rattle her confidence and cool the desire her Zorro was so effectively building.

Instead, she sank into the kiss, sliding her palms up his back. Giving into the need to be closer to him, she pressed her chest to his, her nipples aching sweetly as they brushed against him.

He held her close, touching her face, her hair, her neck. Gentle caresses etched with sensuality and tenderness. This was not a man who acted as if he wanted only sex.

He was a man intent on making love.

And she was intent on experiencing all he had to offer.

He pulled back slightly, softly wiping the wetness from her bottom lip with his thumb and then taking her hand in his. “Come, mi Hermosa, you are going to catch cold. We must get you out of those wet clothes.”

Heart racing at mega speed, she let him lead her across the room. When they were in the bathroom, standing at the sink, he turned her to face the mirror. He stood so close to her, she could feel his hardness pressing against her bottom.

What would he do next? Nervous anticipation laced with excitement had her trembling ever so slightly. Not knowing what to expect from him should have frightened her. Instead, it seemed to heighten the excitement.

Using the towel, which he still held in one hand, he began drying her hair. “I noticed your hair back at the bar.”

Her eyes lifted, locking with his in the mirror. “You did?”

“I noticed a lot of things,” he said, tossing the towel on the counter.

Her eyes widened. “Like?”

One of his hands spread wide on her stomach. “There is loneliness in your eyes.”

“I choose to be alone,” she said defensively.

His hand inched its way upward and then stopped. “I have no doubt.” He studied her lips as if he wanted to kiss her and then slowly raised his eyes back to hers. “But not tonight.”

She digested his words. He was right. Not tonight. Tonight she wanted to be with him. But she didn’t have the courage to say it out loud.

His hand began inching upward again. She could feel anticipation building in her stomach and in the tingling between her legs. Where was that hand of his going?

Courage. She repeated the word several times in her mind, even as she fought through her sensual fog. “No,” she said softly. “Not tonight.”

Jessica wondered if he knew how much it had cost her to say those words. To admit she wanted to be here. How much she had to overcome to stay. Here. With him.

Somehow, she thought he might. His body knew hers in ways no one ever had. Could he read her so easily through and through?

His mouth settled at her temple, pressing lightly as his hand moved up the line of buttons on her shirt.

He unbuttoned it slowly, using both hands and then sliding the wet material off her shoulders. Tossing it on the counter, as he had the towel, he looked at her in the mirror.

Jessica stood facing her own reflection in a lacy black bra. She was covered, but not. Her attention shifted to him. She watched him in the mirror. His hands and eyes moved over her shoulders. The darkness of his skin against hers stirred something inside her.

“Such fair skin,” he murmured and then lifted his eyes to hers, clearly thinking the same thing she was. Their differences aroused him as well. Holding her gaze, he reached for the clasp at her back and unhooked her bra.

Nervously, her hands went to cover her breasts, holding the material in place. His hands slid up her back, warming her skin with their caress, as they returned to her shoulders. “It’s your choice,” he said.

Nerves and old fears were haunting her. Her ex-husband’s harsh words about her sexual performance, and even her body, were like demons in her head. But she wanted this man. He made her feel sexy and adventurous.

And she wanted to be all that and more.

Wanted it with all her heart and soul. The ghost of the past was destroying her, and she wanted them gone. “No,” Jessica said, though her voice quivered. “I don’t want a shirt. I want this.” Her hands dropped, and she shrugged out of the bra. Moments later it lay with her shirt.

She didn’t look in the mirror, averting her eyes downward, as she took a deep breath to calm her nerves. She could feel him looking at her.

“You are truly lovely.” His fingers ran down her neck, but still she didn’t look up. “Such full, beautiful breasts. And your nipples…” He stopped speaking, and she looked into the mirror, locking eyes with him. She could see the depths of his arousal in his eyes.

He looked down at her nipples. “They are very aroused, are they not?” He looked back up at her. “Because you are cold or because you are thinking about what I might do to them?”

She wasn’t used to talking about this type of thing. Her ex’s words raced through her head. Boring, sexless. “I’m…not cold.”

One of his hands ran the length of her hair, and his lips nuzzled the sensitive spot behind her ear. “Meaning, you are thinking of what I might do to you?”

Her lashes fluttered. “Yes,” she whispered.

“Open your eyes, mi Hermosa.” She forced herself to comply, meeting his gaze. “Now. Tell me what you want me to do to you. Wht is your desire?”

Three

Tell him what she wanted him to do? She’d never told a man what to do during lovemaking. She clenched her teeth at the words and corrected herself. This was sex. Just sex. The thought of telling this man what she desired, both scared and excited her. She swallowed and wet her lips. “I…I don’t know.”

His eyes narrowed in reprimand. Bringing his mouth to her ear, he nipped her earlobe ever so gently. “Yes, you do. Tell me.”

Their eyes locked in the mirror yet again. His face was still low, cheek pressed to hers. She could smell him, enticingly male with a hint of spice. Her senses were so alive she could still taste him, even though it had been long minutes since they kissed.

There were so many things she could do with this man. “I want…”

“You want what?” he asked as his hands moved back to her stomach. “Tell me. You want what?” He repeated the words.

“Touch me.” Jessica’s voice was barely audible.

“I am touching you.”

“No.” She swallowed, no, gulped. “Touch my…breasts.”

He didn’t so much as hesitate. His hands cupped her breasts, taking their weight and ever so softly kneading. But he didn’t touch her nipples, and she knew it was on purpose. He was teasing her and it was working. Her nipples ached, begging for relief. For satisfaction.