Sara Stone - Command Performance

“I have one more question.” Hunter stood and walked around the table to offer his hand. He’d recovered his light, playful tone, but his gaze remained intent. “Did you drive here?”

Maggie placed her hand in his. “My car’s parked in the lot.”

“Great. My hotel is five minutes from here. Unless you’d rather go to your place?”

“No, we can’t go there.” On her feet and steady, she pulled her hand free and turned to pick up her purse, hoping he hadn’t seen the panicked expression flash across her face. She couldn’t take him home with her. She needed the freedom to walk away in the morning, or tonight, if things didn’t go as planned.

“Marriott it is,” he said playfully. Maggie felt her panic ease. “May I have your keys?”

She led the way to her rented Toyota, rummaging through her bag. She’d gone for sexy shoes, but opted to keep her sensible holds-everything-but-the-sun purse. Including the condoms Olivia had given her. She stumbled as her hand brushed the box.

“Easy.” He took her elbow and guided her through the crowd. Maggie kept her eyes on the exit gate. She felt her face flush and knew if she looked at him now, he’d see the pink in her cheeks. All from a box of condoms. But, oh, the promise they held.

From the corner of her eye, Maggie saw a pair of tall blonde women in strapless tops and painted-on jeans checking out Hunter. Judging from their near-perfect bodies, the blondes did not have a linguine Alfredo problem.

Hunter released her elbow and pressed his palm flat against the bare skin on her back. He drew her closer until her hip brushed the side of his body. Instead of moving away from him, she leaned into his touch, enjoying the way her skin tingled. Half an inch lower and he would have touched the fabric of her shirt, but no, he’d opted for the intimate she’s-mine touch.

“Honey, you’re a helluva lot prettier,” he murmured.

She glanced up at him and followed his gaze to the blonde Barbie look-alikes. “Thanks.”

He smiled down at her. “Find your keys?”

“Right. The keys.” His hand stayed firm against her skin, guiding her through the gate as she turned her attention back to her bag. But she could barely focus. Not when he was touching her. She’d never been so aware of a man, never had her imagination fast-forward to where his fingers would go next. Higher or lower?

The sounds of the car show faded as they made their way through the parking lot. “They’re in here somewhere. I can drive. I know where the Marriott is—”

His hand fell away and she instantly missed the feel of him as he allowed her to step in front of him. Five minutes and they would be at the hotel. Five minutes and he’d be touching her again. If only she could find the key...

Warm breath tickled her neck and Maggie lost her train of thought.

“I’m going to kiss you now,” he said. Soft fingertips swept her hair out of the way and then...lips. Soft, full lips.

Oh, God. Oh, my. Oh, yes...

She melted. His arm snaked around her waist, drawing her back against a hard wall of muscle. Sensation rushed down her body, settling into a warm ache as her knees went weak. He’d hit the perfect spot. He’d found the one place on the back of her neck, halfway between her shoulder and her hairline, that drove her mad with desire. Twelve months with Derrick and he’d never kissed her there, never turned her body to liquid need.

She pressed into the hard, muscled planes of his body, arching her back until her bottom rubbed against his crotch. She felt the hard evidence that he was just as turned on as she was. And feeling that, she wanted to be wild. She wanted to lose herself in a sea of excitement and desire. Her body was so alive it felt foreign. Was this really happening? To her?

Hunter sucked gently at the nape of her neck, keeping his hand pressed against her waist. Higher, she thought, move your hand higher. If he didn’t touch her breasts soon, her nipples would burn holes in her shirt. Forget the hotel, she wanted him here. Now. Against the car.

As softly as he’d pulled her to him, he let go. She steadied herself against the driver’s side door as her need slowly fell from an I-want-to-get-naked-with-you-in-the-parking-lot eleven to a nine.

“How about I drive,” he said, his voice like gravel.

“Good idea.” She managed to reach into her bag, her fingers searching, her mind unfocused from his kiss...and bingo. She withdrew the car key.

Like a man on a mission, he took her hand and quickly led her around to the passenger side. He unlocked her door and held it open as she slipped her giddy, excited body into the seat. But in the quiet car, away from him, her driving need faded and doubts seeped in. Maggie closed her eyes and clasped her hands together on her lap. She’d been seconds away from begging him to take her in the parking lot after a single kiss. What would happen once they were in his hotel room? Alone?

She didn’t say a word as he drove to the Marriott and turned into the parking lot. Alan Jackson’s “Gone Country” filled the car. Not country, she thought. Crazy. Out of control. She’d picked up a strange man at a car show, planned to have sex with him and told him as much. An hour ago she didn’t even know his name.

Her right hand reached for the door, her fingers gliding back and forth over the electric lock button. Crazy. Plain and simple. Her plan, which had sounded brilliant earlier, now seemed insane and maybe even a little dangerous. There was a reason sane people went on dates, shared meals and engaged in hours of getting-to-know-you small talk. It was so they didn’t fall into bed with a sinfully handsome man without knowing anything more than his name and occupation, that he liked nachos and could change a tire.

Oh, and he was a Ranger.

Maggie stole a quick glance at him and realized she knew more than what he’d revealed during their brief time together. Hunter Cross appeared to be a first-class gentleman and clearly knew his manners. He’d stood and held her chair. He’d opened the door for her. And he knew where to kiss her.

The memory of the kiss made the aching return. But was that enough? What if they got up to his room, she took off her clothes and he refused to wear a condom? She couldn’t just walk out of his hotel room the next morning wondering if he’d gotten her pregnant or worse.

He put the car in Park near a side entrance. She kept her gaze fixed on the red exit sign above the hotel door, her hands shifting in her lap. She interlaced her trembling fingers and then released them.

“Maggie?”

“Hmm?”

“It’s okay if you don’t want to do this. I’ll say good-night and let you drive home. Or we can go inside to the hotel bar and have another water. Your call.”

“No, I do.” Interlaced fingers drummed against opposite hands. “I want this.” I want you. Badly.

“Honey, your hands haven’t stopped moving since we got in the car.”

She released her grip and forced her fingers to lie still on her thighs.

“Nervous?” he asked gently.

“Yes.” Fingernails digging into her jeans, she turned to him. “I think I left out a few important questions back at the fairgrounds.”

He rested his arm on the center console and grinned. “I don’t have a favorite color, but I love homemade lasagna.”

“That’s great, but I need to know more.” The words tumbled forth as if she’d opened a floodgate, but she kept her eyes locked on her hands. “Like your medical history, and maybe a few references. And if you’re allergic to latex.”

He reached over and took her hand. His fingers wrapped around her palm and she felt the fear wane. She glanced up at him. If he was offended, she couldn’t tell from his gentle smile.