The bed’s only a few feet from the door, and the back of her knees hit it. My body bent at the waist, my mouth continues to taste and tempt as she lowers herself to the bed so that she’s sitting and I’m standing. And fuck, I thought I was doing pretty damn good on restraint until she unzips my cargo pants and her chilled hands slide inside. The contrast of her cold hands on my rock-hard dick paralyzes me momentarily because, damn, it feels fucking fantastic.

And shit, I’m a guy who’s all about foreplay. I love teasing a woman with my fingers, tongue, toys, and anything on hand so that I can bring her to the brink of coming, then ease back some so that she begs me for more in that strained moan women have that calls to the animalistic part of me, before I dive back in to make her body tighten and pussy pulse. Only then do I usually jacket up and slide into the wetness I’ve helped create.

But right now? I’m all about the endgame. So when her hands begin to stroke me with a measured pressure that’s equal parts strong and slow, I straighten up, let my head fall back, and lose myself in the sensations that are pulling me way too fucking quick to the edge.

The best part is this is a one-night stand. I don’t have to worry about misconstrued intentions or even speaking at all because we both know what we’re here for. And with my thoughts fractured a thousand different ways, this is perfect. Just what I need. A night of sweaty, gritty sex without promises. A hot and willing woman who will most likely evade my gaze when we pass each other in the lobby, and that’s just fine with me.

I lose myself to her touch, but the tension builds so goddamn fast. It pains me to put my hands on my shoulders and stop her as I step back. “Fuck,” I say, part groan from her stopping the motion, part verbal acknowledgment of what she’s doing to me.

And if the smirk on her face, the flush of her cheeks, and her budded nipples weren’t enough to taunt me, the laugh she emits does just that. I meet her eyes then, and it’s a mutual exchange of our consent of what’s about to happen despite her continued commentary on how much she dislikes me.

A split second passes, and then both of us are stripping off the remainder of our clothes in a riotous frenzy. I move to the cheap dresser in the room and pull out a condom, feeling like time is of the essence. When I turn around again, I’m staggered by the sheer beauty of the woman waiting for me. BJ is lying back on the bed, the lean lines of her naked body looking like an ocean of flesh and curves that I can’t wait to sink into. She’s let down her hair so that it fans in soft waves around her head like a black halo against the sheets.

“See something you want, Pulitzer?” I startle at the nickname. It throws me for a second until I refocus on her open invitation. Her confidence is so damn attractive and confusing all at once, but who the fuck cares because the trim strip of hair on her pussy calls to me so that my mouth waters and my dick begs for the feeling of her beneath me.

When I walk to the edge of the bed, I have the satisfaction of watching her eyes widen as they travel down to take in my cock, and while I’m above average, it’s still a stroke to my ego to see her reaction. “I have a lot of wants, so right now I’m going to take the one thing I need. You think you can handle me?”

Her laugh is deep and rich and drowns out the sounds floating up from the street. It turns into an unexpected giggle that sounds like such a contradiction to her haughty remarks when I grab her ankles and pull her down in a sharp tug to the end of the bed. The heat of her pussy presses against my upper thighs and holy fucking hell, all coherent thoughts leave me because the sexual need within me takes over.

I grip her hips and pull her toward me at the same time I bend my knees so that our bodies meet in the most carnal of ways with her backside a few inches off the mattress. I grab a pillow from behind her with one hand while holding her up with the other and slide it beneath her ass. The minute she relaxes her hips, I line my dick up at her entrance and rub my head through her wetness, so damn turned on by her being aroused and ready that my balls tighten in anticipation.

My gaze travels up the length of her torso to where her hands are palming her breasts, the dark pink of her nipples visible between her spread fingers. Her teeth bite into her lower lip, and she looks up to me beneath thick lashes so that all I can see is the gleam in her eyes.

When I brush my thumb over her clit and stroke it a few times, adding friction as I push into her, the sensation of taking her is so intense, it makes the motion of my hand falter, and we each release a moan as we absorb that first-time connection.

“So good.” My voice is a low moan, and I’m so lost in the feeling of her hot pussy wrapped tight around my dick that I forget the first part of the sentence, intending to tell her you feel, but at this point, fuck correcting myself because I can’t think straight. She’s wet, I’m hard, and I’ll take this welcome back. I slide slowly all the way in, root to tip, and hold still so that she can adjust to me. My head falls back in ecstasy as her muscles grip me tightly, a silent urging to stroke her clit again.

And then I begin to move.

Desire roars to an inferno inside me with each slow withdrawal and then sharp plunge back into the depths of her pleasure. My God. Between the moan that falls from her lips, the way she lifts her hips up each time I thrust back in that squeezes around my cock, and the feel of her wetness at the top of my shaft that teases me… fuck. It’s like a goddamn roller coaster of sensation that’s climbing up to that inevitable drop I know is coming, but I’m trying to close my eyes and fight the release.

“Right there. Yes!” She draws out the moan in that throaty voice of hers that sounds like satisfaction.

I pick up the pace. My balls ache so damn bad and my dick swells to the point of pain. I try to hold back so that I can bring her there first. Make her writhe and moan and milk my cock to help me reach mine. But when I look down at my thumb on her swollen clit, her tits jiggling with each thrust I make, her hands at her sides gripping the sheets, and the mist of sweat on her chest reflected in the moonlight, the mixture of her beauty and the intensity of the act itself pushes me to work at this a little harder.

In order to please my partner, I usually try to hold out as long as possible. That’s just not gonna happen this time. No fucking way, because the minute I hear BJ moan out that she’s going to come, I lose sight of everything else in the room.

Usually I take pleasure in watching my companion ride that high that seems so goddamn intense for a woman, but this time I don’t have the wherewithal for that. She tenses around me and pulls me to the edge hard and fast. My vision goes white, then black, as the ball of energy churns in my gut and branches out to my limbs like the beginning of a lightning rod. The combination of her crying out and me pressing her legs back so I can get as deep as possible drives me to the point of no return.

I climax with a hard groan as the electricity bursts through me, my nerve endings singed, my muscles tensed, and my body riding that sexual high. My dick is so goddamn sensitive that her muscles’ contracting causes me to pull out quicker than usual.

As I gaze down at her lying on the bed, a blanket of hair framing her flushed cheeks, and her body still quivering, I smile shyly with awkwardness at her and get a smile in return, but it’s the look in her eyes I can’t read. She looks conflicted, guarded, like she wants to tell me something but isn’t speaking up.

I shrug away the feeling because my fingers are still gripping the flesh of her thighs and my dick’s coated from her pleasure, so does it really matter what the hell she’s thinking? Maybe she’s just uncertain what to say, because what’s considered polite conversation when we’ve just fucked after meeting for a whole twenty minutes max?

We both startle when the ring of my cell phone cuts through the uncomfortable silence. And I swear I catch my sigh of relief before I blow it out; although I’m relieved to be saved by the bell, I want to mitigate any inevitable discomfort between us.

A gentleman would ignore his cell, and normally I’m just that. But in light of the situation and the fact that I’m waiting for a call from Rafe, I’m going to take the convenient out. When I glance to the floor where my phone sits faceup, I can just make out his name on the screen.

“Sorry. I can’t not get this.” I feel like such a dick, but it doesn’t stop me, and I squeeze her inner thighs in a show of regret. “I’m sorry,” I murmur again, meeting her surprised eyes as she unwraps her legs from around my waist. I take a step back, and I quickly avert my eyes as I toe the edge of embarrassment.

She murmurs something about understanding that I’m not sure I believe as I pick up my phone and head toward the bathroom to try and get some privacy in this tiny room.

“Dude. Do you have any clue what fucking time it is?” I ask the question to save face on why I sound winded, but then I look at my watch and realize it’s two o’clock in the damn morning.

“No. No damn clue, but you picked up awfully fast, so I know you’re not sleeping.” His statement hangs on the line like a question, but I just ignore it.

“What do you need, Rafe?” I glance over my shoulder to see BJ lying on the bed but covering herself up with the sheet. Shit. Well, I guess I can look on the bright side; more sex might be in my immediate future. That’s never a bad thing.

“Got your new photographer lined up. Name’s Bo Croslyn. I set it up for you two to meet in the normal place,” he says, referring to the hotel’s one pseudo–conference room all of us correspondents have taken over as our place to do official business when we need privacy and we’re not out in the field.

I knew this phone call was coming, knew I was going to get a new photog, but for some reason having it actually happen makes me feel like I’m betraying Stella. Ridiculous.

“Experience?” I ask as I take the condom off and toss it in the trash can next to the toilet. The line fills with silence while I turn the faucet on and clean up. “Rafe? What are you not telling me?”

“Nothing abroad just —”

“Nothing abroad?” My voice escalates. “Are you fucking kidding me? You’re sending me a goddamn newbie? Some fresh-faced kid that’s going to get himself killed… or better yet, get me killed. What the —”

“Calm down. That’s not what —”

“This. Is. Calm.” I grit the words out. The false calm from the whiskey and the orgasm that were like a salve to soothe the invisible wounds is now gone. “Jesus H., man. After Stella… after how that went down, you’re gonna do this to me?”

“It’ll be fine. You’ll be fine. Bo’s pictures are killer.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of.” I catch a fleeting glimpse of BJ in the mirror, but I don’t turn to look because I’m so damn busy being pissed at Rafe.

“That’s not what I meant, Tanner.”

“I know what you meant.”

“Just wait. I think you guys will really click.”

“I don’t need you to bullshit me. I really don’t. The only click I need from Bo is the damn camera’s.”

Rafe chuckles into the line, but I know he’s just humoring me. I don’t have a damn leg to stand on since I’m the one who begged to be back here.

“Oh wow. I didn’t realize how late it was there. I’m so sorry,” he says, feigning apology to change the subject.

“Uh-huh.”

“Meet Bo at ten a.m. I’m late for a meeting.”

“Rafe —” The rest of my comment dies on my lips when the line goes dead. Fucking hell. Seriously?

I slam my fist against the cheap bathroom counter, but I haven’t even been here long enough to have any products on it to rattle. Something about the thought hits home. Why? Because I’m back and it’s all so different but the same too. I toss the phone onto the towel there, brace my hands on the Formica edge, and let my head hang down for a brief moment to rein in my frustration.

“I’m sorry about that,” I say as I walk back into the room. My steps falter when I take in the empty bed and my clothes as the sole items strewn on the floor. My immediate reaction is to stride toward the door, call her back, and apologize. Hell yes, it was a one-night stand, but my mother raised me to respect women.