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 her
self 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.
“Maggie, I won’t hurt you,” he said seriously. “You have my word. I have condoms with me and I plan to use them if you’re still interested. I swear on my father’s grave that I have a clean bill of health. I just spent four weeks in a VA hospital followed by two months of inpatient therapy. They ran every test in the book and I’m clean.”
“Why?”
“Gunshot.” It was his turn to look at the exit sign.
“Oh, God.” This was quickly becoming more complicated. Of all the men in the car show refreshment tent, she had to pick an injured Ranger. Depending on the extent of his injuries, the man sitting in the driver’s seat of her rental car might never return to active duty.