Ann Major - Wild Enough For Willa

“So am I.”

She stared at him. Her eyes lit up, as he’d known they would at the mention of his fortune.

“You have to help me. I have to get out of Laredo away from Brand—tonight.”

“No way.”

“I can’t let him find me.” For an instant she looked on the verge of panic.

He remembered his old friend, the pregnant law student who’d felt she had to run away from Baines.

As this girl studied him, she seemed to regain a bit of control. After a while, she even forced a slow, sexy smile. “What if…if I was the kind of woman you think I am…and you want me to be…the girl of your most lurid comic book dreams?”

He sucked in a breath. Here we go.

“We’re alone. In your hotel room.” Her gaze drifted suggestively to the bed. “What if I’d do anything? Absolutely anything? Would you help me?”

Anything. Pictures of women playing in provocative love games flipped in his mind. The pictures changed. Every face, every lewd position was of her.

Heat spiraled inside him. “One minute you play a whore, the next a virgin. Don’t tempt me unless you mean it.”

“Or the big tough, rich guy will grab me?” She trembled, hugging herself. Her blue eyes grew even more enormous. Then she licked her mouth with her tongue. “Anything,” she purred.

The imaginary pictures of her flipped again. He had a fleeting sensation of shame. She was in some sort of trouble. What kind of heel took advantage of a desperate woman, even a whore, who needed his help?

A man who came from the gutter. A man who used every opportunity for his own gain. A saint would have been tempted by her, and he was no saint.

She was so damn pretty she made every male sense knife sharp. His bones melted. His weaker nature won. Down in hell his name on that list blazed brighter. “Anything?”

She nodded.

“What do I have to do?”

“Money. And I need a ride north.”

“How much money?”

Her eyes locked on his. “A lot.”

“Undress.”

“Cash…before I—I begin—”

“Strip first.”

Meekly lowering her lashes, she gulped in a deep breath. For courage, he thought. Then she slanted her eyes at him as her fingers fumbled with the sash of his robe.

“Take your time,” he said with a touch of irony.

Untying the rope of blue cloth, she coiled the sash between her fingers.

He appraised what he could see of her body, watched her fingers stroke blue cloth. “So, I was right about you?”

Her wounded eyes stung him. She flung the sash full-force at his face.

That temper of hers turned him on. He caught the sash, recoiled it and plunged it inside his pocket. “Take it all off.”

She paled.

He grinned. “Act like you’re having fun.”

She brought a hand to her throat protectively. “You better hope I’m never in the position to exact revenge.”

“You said anything.”

“A gentleman would help a lady for nothing.”

“Gentlemen are an extinct breed.”

She gave him the once-over. “How right you are.”

“Nor does the term lady apply to any female in this room.”

“Ha! Someday I’ll make you regret this.”

“You blame me…for your idea!”

“It’s always the man’s fault.”

“Right,” he said.

With a little shrug, she flashed him an infectiously warm smile, covering it with fluttery fingertips. Then she squared her shoulders and blew him a kiss. The next thing he knew she winked and began to hum a ribald burlesque tune.

While he watched, she mimicked a stripper’s high-stepping strut, moving fast as was her custom, peeling the terry cloth back and giving her full, shapely breasts a little jiggle for him.

Lust arced through him. He began to burn.

His response paralyzed her. Her quick steps faltered; her humming paused in midnote. Her outstretched leg hung suspended in the air. She stared at it in openmouthed astonishment as if she were terrified to find it there.

Long seconds passed in which each was too aware of the other. Then she recovered, threw her head back, cupped her breasts as if to offer them to him.

She looked so damn cute, so eager, holding her breasts like that.

Available. She was like a fantasy in a dream. Only she was real.

She let the robe slide from her slim, rounded shoulders, down the length of her voluptuous body. His heart thundered.

His sea-gray gaze flicked over full, soft breasts, her narrow waist, and the fullness of her hips…and those incredible legs that went forever.

She blushed, as if stunned by what she was doing, and then quickly averted her gaze to the blue pool of terry cloth at her feet. Her modesty only enhanced her charm and beauty. He wanted to grab her, take her.

“You won’t say no again…just when things get interesting?” he rasped, taking a step toward her. When her smile froze, her fingers falling from those voluptuous lips, and she shrank back an inch or two instinctively, he softened his tone. “You didn’t answer me.”

She bowed her head, her cheeks crimson in shame. “I won’t say no…if you make me go through with this.…”

His eyes narrowed. He moved in for the kill, took her chin in his callused hand before she could escape. “How much?”

“W-what?”

He studied her slender neck, her swollen mouth. “How much do you charge…for this little dance…for all the rest?”

He loathed himself when she looked from him to the bed and began to shake. Then he saw the tears glistening in her eyes. “A thousand dollars,” she snapped. “But you have to take me with you…tonight.” Her strangled voice was so low and hot with that temper of hers he could barely hear her. “Like I said, I need a ride.”

“You’re gonna get the ride of your life.”

Hot color crept up her throat, warming the skin beneath his fingertips.

“You like thinking of me as an object, a toy you can play with, don’t you? But if you give me the money…and help me…” She shut her eyes. “I—I’ll try not to let myself care what you think.”

She was so soft. His blood pumped at an alarming rate. His breathing was so shallow and quick, he couldn’t get enough air.

“I want my thousand dollars now.”

“A thousand dollars. You’d better be good. You’d better do—anything.”

“Oh, dear.” Then she said, “You got it!”

He pulled out his wallet, counted ten bills and laid them across her open palm. She took her time, folding them. In slow motion, she set them down one by one on the table.

That done, she lifted her gaze from the ten green bills. Squaring her shoulders, she faced him, wild emotion flaring in her pale face. “Go ahead,” she whispered, fighting to keep her voice steady. Her body went stiff.

Instead of seizing her as a girl in her business, no doubt, expected, he knelt at her feet as if in worship, his fingertips starting at her toes. Tracing the arch of her narrow foot, he noted how she quivered, goose-flesh springing beneath his lightest touch. When his hand reached the top of her thigh, he forced her legs open.

“My, my…a natural blonde.”

His gaze climbed, fixed on her face. “I have a thing for blondes.”

Her eyes were closed. Was she pretending he was someone else? Brand maybe? Or imagining this wasn’t happening? What was she thinking? He had to know. She had to know she was with him. For some inane reason that was vital. More vital than sex itself.

“Open your eyes,” he commanded.

Her cheeks flamed. Her black lashes fluttered reluctantly.

“Are you sure about this?” he demanded.

Her eyes clung to his in mute desperation, but she nodded.

“Smile, then.”

Her bottom lip wobbled, but she tried. Dear God, she tried. Despite her smile, a tear trickled down her flushed face.