I have never been kissed like this before.

His other hand drops to my hip again to pull me tight against him. And then it’s like we’re frozen like that, right there in the hotel lobby, with my mouth pressed tightly to my gorgeous stranger. Lip to lip, breath to breath, a flick of a tongue across the other’s.

And then suddenly the last shred of my sanity pulls me out of the fantasy free-fall. And I’m pulling back, my face hot, my body alive, and my mind exploding in a million different directions. He’s looking at me with this amused and yet animalistic wild look in his eyes. And I know I’m drunk, and probably just made a complete fool of myself, but I also just don’t care.

In fact, it feels pretty damn good not to care, for once.

“So, goodnight, stranger.”

The door starts to close as I bite my lip and step to the back of the elevator car, my eyes locked on him as he stands there, his eyes burning right into me.

“Night, princess.”

And then the doors shut, and I’m alone with my racing heart.





5





Natalie




I sit up in the bed, blinking groggily at the morning light piercing through the open shades. I grimace at the cotton taste in my mouth and the sweaty feeling that comes from sleeping in your clothes on top of the sheets.

So, that happened.

“That” being me insanely kissing a stranger in the lobby of a fancy hotel lobby like a crazy person.

Or a drunk person, as the case may be.

I groan at the memory, grimacing at the morning-after regret of letting my inhibitions run wild like that. What happened was reckless, and insane, and totally out of character.

And amazing.

The rush of feeling his lips on mine - the spike of adrenaline at the boldness of kissing him like that - lances through me like a drug, jolting me out of bed. I glance briefly at my phone, squinting at the dozen missed calls from my mother and from my sister, which only means Vince told them about me skipping out.

I’m willing to bet he’s omitted the part about him boning his secretary.

Yeah, what I’m sure are vitriolic, panicky voicemails can wait. I’m still wearing my dress from the night before, and I fumble for the straps, letting it slip from my body as I stumble across the plush carpet of the room.

God, those eyes.

Those lips, those hands on my body, that voice like oiled leather, and that smile like the promise of something wicked.

I flick on the coffee machine as I pad to the bathroom and start the shower. I step under the hot water soothing the aching in my head. I let my hands push through my hair under the spray, letting the heat and the pounding rhythm of the water seep into my skin as I try and make sense of the last twenty-four hours of my life.

I want to groan - to hide away and bury my head in the pillows of the hotel bed over my ridiculous behavior from the night before. But even thinking about it has the thrill of my recklessness teasing coursing through my body. My stranger - Austin, that’s his name - is like no man I’ve ever interacted with. In my world of finance types, and garden parties, and suits and ties and polish, the gruff, stubble-chinned cowboy with the tattoos and the t-shirt and jeans sticks out like a sore thumb.

A wickedly attractive, boldly forward thumb.

There’s that look - the way he looked at me like no man ever had before. That piercing, hungry, amused look - cocky with a touch of arrogance. It’s supreme confidence, but with the swagger and the boldness to back it up.

And that kiss. I can feel the sizzling heat from it lingering on my lips, teasing through my body as the steam and the water drape across my skin in the hotel bathroom.