Midnight Encounters (2 page)

Maggie dodged a rowdy group of teenagers loitering on the city sidewalk, and then waved at the hot dog vendor she passed every day on the way to work. Her apartment was only a few blocks from the bar, but she and Tony avoided going there. They always met in a hotel, where they could have fun all night long and then go their separate ways in the morning.

Another perk—not sharing an awkward breakfast together the morning after.

She reached the Lester Hotel a few minutes later, headed straight for the counter, and said she wanted to check into room 312. The clerk, a very scrawny, very bored looking young man, replied in a monotone that the room was already occupied.

“I know…he’s expecting me,” she said, her cheeks only warming slightly. She didn’t care what this desk clerk thought of her. “There should be a spare key for me.” The guy turned around and stared at the dozens of keys hanging off the hooks on the wall, then plucked one with his long, bony fingers. As he handed her the key, she desperately wanted to offer to buy him a hot dog, or a cracker, anything to put some meat on those protruding bones.

Sex first, feed the check-in guy later.

Thanking the kid, she made her way to the elevator and rode the car up to the third floor. She and Tony had visited the Lester before, so she knew her way around and found the room quickly. Her breasts grew heavy as she stuck the key in the lock and turned it. God, she needed this. With her college exams coming up in a few weeks, not to mention the billiards tournament the bar was holding next month, she’d soon be up to her eyeballs in work.

If she wanted to play, tonight was it.

As she let herself into the room, she was instantly engulfed by shadows. She blinked and waited for her eyes to focus, while she tried to figure out the reason for the dead silence hanging over the room. No, wait, not dead silence. Her ears perked as the sound of light breathing floated from the direction of the bed.

“Oh, don’t do this to me, Anthony,” she chided softly, dropping her purse on the table beside her and turning to lock the door. “I see you three times a year, at least have the decency to stay awake.” No response.

A slow grin spread over her mouth as she took another step forward. She was tempted to flick on the lights and maybe stomp her foot to jar Tony from his slumber, but that wouldn’t be fun, would it?

Instead, she reached for the hem of her black baby tee and pulled the shirt over her head. She unhooked her lacy bra, and it fell onto the carpet, followed by her short denim skirt, skimpy panties and the heels on her feet.

She shivered as the cool air met her naked skin, then she crept toward the edge of the bed, still grinning.

Tony was about to get a hell of a wake-up call.

“C’mon, Tony,” she murmured, “you only flew in from Nassau. Don’t plead jet lag.” She was answered by a husky male groan.

“Ah, so he’s alive,” she teased, reaching for the corner of the flower-patterned blanket.

With a quiet chuckle, she slid under the covers and pressed her body against Tony’s, fighting back a moan as his warm, rock-hard chest pressed against her bare breasts. Her nipples instantly hardened, the tight buds springing against the soft feathering of hair on that glorious chest.

She swung one leg over his muscular thighs, hoping the heat from her aching pussy might jumpstart his sluggish brain into action, but he remained motionless. The room was still bathed in darkness, and though she could barely see his face, it was obvious he was in a seriously deep sleep.

“I see how it is,” she said, starting to grow annoyed. “Fine, you want me to raise you from the dead?

How’s this?”

She placed her hand directly on his crotch, a little surprised when she didn’t find the cotton barrier of his briefs. Since when did Tony sleep in the buff?

Not that she minded.

As a lazy heat began dancing through her veins, she dragged her index finger along the length of his shaft.

Like his chest, it was rock-hard, and…bigger? No, it couldn’t be.

She ran her finger over the tip of his cock, felt the drop of moisture there, and smiled as another groan broke through the silence. Finally. Signs of life.

His massive erection told her he’d be getting into the swing of things soon, and she was right. The second she squeezed his shaft, one powerful arm slid out and pulled her closer. She found herself crushed in his embrace, his cock still in her hand, while a pair of warm lips sought hers in the darkness.

His kiss stole the breath from her lungs and made her gasp against his hot mouth. There was nothing soft or gentle about it, just a greedy devouring, the hungry thrusts of his tongue, the sting of his teeth as he bit her lower lip.

Oh dear God, when did Tony start kissing like this?

And why hadn’t he done it sooner?

The intensity of his kisses caused her to drop her hand from his throbbing erection, and all she could do was lose herself in the delicious sensations his mouth and tongue created in her body. Limbs turning to jelly. Moisture pooling between her legs. Nipples so tight it was almost painful.

A fire hotter than she’d ever experienced slowly swept over her. Crackling when he bit her lip again.

Hissing when his hand cupped a breast.

And then he slid one finger into her sopping wet pussy and she was shocked to feel the ripples of an impending orgasm rising to the surface.

She clamped her teeth down on her bottom lip, trying to stop herself from climaxing. It was too fast, too soon.

How is this possible? her overly-aroused brain demanded.

She’d slept with this guy dozens of times before, so why was her entire body swarming with unfamiliar—but totally incredible—sensations?

She pried open her eyelids, hoping if she let their gazes lock, she might make sense of it. She squinted, blinked as she searched his face in the dark, and then wondered why his features seemed more…rugged.

Her gaze drifted lower and settled on his arm—was that a tattoo? When had Tony gotten himself inked?

And why wasn’t he tanned? He’d just come from the Bahamas, so really, he should have a—

“What’s the matter, sweetheart?” came a sleepy voice.

The husky sound that filled the room made her sit up as if someone had shoved a ten-thousand-volt wire up her spine.

Why didn’t she recognize his voice?

As a steady stream of panic rushed up her throat, she stared down at the dark head beside her, and repeated his question in her disorientated brain.

What was the matter?

In one very swift, very startling moment, Maggie knew exactly what the matter was.

She was in bed with a complete and total stranger.

Ben woke up with jolt, sucked out of his dream the way dust bunnies get sucked out from under the bed by a hungry vacuum cleaner. The shrill female yelp stung his ears, pleasure draining from his body like bathwater.

Christ, that dream. It even rivaled the one he’d had back in the ninth grade, where he’d fondled Cindy Mason’s Double-D’s. No Double-D’s in this one, but a pair of delectable C’s, and a female body with more curves than a lush valley. A hot mouth with an eager tongue. A tight wet pussy—

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry.”

The mortified voice thrust Ben into a fully conscious state. As he quickly collected his bearings, he glanced over and saw that it was all real. There was a gorgeous redhead in bed with him, as naked as he was—and she looked horrified.

“What the fuck…?” He blinked a few times and finally forced his hand to reach for the lamp on the nightstand.

A pale yellow glow fell over the hotel room as he directed his gaze to the stranger next to him. She had green eyes, really nice green eyes, despite the fact that they flickered with deep alarm. Her cheeks were as red as her hair, and when he looked farther south, he saw that a crimson flush had spread over her very perky, very bare breasts.

The redhead caught him staring and let out another yelp, quickly pulling the bedcovers up to her chin to shield her nudity. Her domination of the blanket, however, left him fully exposed and a faint pang of embarrassment tugged at his gut when he noticed he still had the boner of all boners.

What the hell was going on here? He had no clue who this woman was, only that she was the sexiest sight he’d ever seen. Aside from those magnetic emerald eyes and knockout figure, she had high cheekbones, a dainty nose and a sensual mouth that was just a little bit crooked. He liked it, that small imperfection. It made her all the more…real.

He just wished she’d stop biting her bottom lip and wipe that deer-in-headlights expression off her flushed face.

“I’m so sorry,” she said again as she edged toward the side of the bed, still clinging to the blanket. “I must be in the wrong room.”

He opened his mouth to answer, but for some inexplicable reason the power of speech completely eluded him. What the hell was he supposed to say anyway? No problem, thanks for giving me this stiffy?

As he watched her stumble off the bed in her blanket-toga, his confusion gave way to suspicion. Was she really in the wrong room? Sure, the skinny dude downstairs could have screwed up with the keys, but how likely was that? A much likelier possibility would be that this redhead was…damn it, was she
press
? Had she purposely snuck into his room and tried to seduce him in hopes of getting a juicy story to sell to the tabloids?

Oh shit.

Ben scrambled to cover himself with one of the flat pillows on the bed, then narrowed his eyes as the redhead scurried around the room, collecting items of clothing.

“Who are you?” he demanded in a tone that said he meant business.

She faltered for a moment, a black T-shirt clutched between her fingers. “What?”

“Are you a reporter?”

“Why would I be a reporter?” She appeared frazzled as she stared at the shirt in her hands and then shot him a pleading look. “Could you…could you just close your eyes for a minute while I get dressed?” Oh, so
now
she was all prim and modest? She sure hadn’t been that way when she was stroking his dick.

Deciding he was entitled to a little peek, he pretended to close his eyes while watching her through slitted eyelids. He got an out-of-focus glimpse of her scrambling to hook up her bra and his cock twitched with disappointment when her full breasts were finally covered. Would asking her to come back to bed be inappropriate?

Probably.

“Okay. I’m dressed.”

Yes, she was. But the tight T-shirt and short denim skirt that did amazing things to her legs only confirmed she looked just as good clothed as she did naked.

“I’m mortified,” she murmured. Then, looking as if she was offering a scrap of meat to a feral lion, she stepped forward and handed him the blanket.

He took the flowery material and draped it over himself as she continued to ramble on. “I was supposed to meet…a guy. He said this was his room number and I…I guess I got it wrong. I…” She began to stutter, “I don’t usually break into strangers’ hotel rooms, I promise. I just…” She finally drifted off, her cheeks growing redder by the second.

Strangers?

The word hung in the air, bringing with it another hefty dose of confusion. She didn’t recognize him?

She actually
didn’t
recognize him?

He wasn’t conceited enough to think that all the women on the planet knew who he was, but his face had been splashed on every entertainment show in the country for weeks now. Even the elderly couple who did his dry-cleaning had heard of him, and they hadn’t been to the movies since the fifties.

“I’m just going to leave now, okay?” she continued, jarring him from his thoughts. “I…I can’t apologize enough for…
this.
”

She swallowed, and then let out a flood of words that had him struggling to keep up. “I, uh…I work at a bar called the Olive Martini and it’s near the corner of Broadway and 47th and if you’re in the neighborhood, you can pop in and the drinks will be on the house.” She sucked in a gust of air. “I know a free drink doesn’t make up for…um,
this,
but it’s all I can do.” She clamped her mouth shut and looked at him with wide, shameful eyes, as the humor of the situation finally settled in with full force. A complete stranger had just slipped into his bed, kissed the hell out of him, brought him to a level of hardness he’d never known, and now she was offering him free drinks to make up for it?

Laughter lodged in Ben’s throat as he tried to formulate a sentence that might make the situation seem a little less absurd.

He never got the chance.

With an awkward smile and another look of terror, the redhead hurried for the door, just as a flash of pink from the carpet caught Ben’s eye.

“Wait,” he called as she reached for the door handle. “You forgot your—” She slid out and closed the door with a soft click.

“—panties,” he finished.

Maggie tore down the street in a full-throttled run, sucking in the night air as if an overdose of oxygen would erase the pure humiliation sticking to her throat. She glanced over her shoulder, half expecting to see the sexy stranger she’d just mauled chasing after her. Nope. All she saw was the slow rush of people flowing out of one of the theaters, chattering about the show they’d just seen.

She knew her dark-haired hunk wasn’t in the crowd because…hell, because lethal good looks like his would be impossible to miss.

How was it possible for someone to be that attractive?

Once he’d turned on the lights, she’d had to slam her mouth closed to avoid drooling all over the hotel room carpet. He had the kind of looks you only saw on Calvin Klein models these days—cobalt blue eyes, straight white teeth, dimples that melted your insides. But with a bit of an edge, which showed in the way his scruffy brown hair curled under his ears and in that tribal tattoo inked on his biceps. He had bad boy written all over him, which she found incredibly sexy, and all she knew was she’d better thank her lucky stars she’d gotten out of there.

Who knows what she would’ve done if she’d stayed even a second longer.

Probably fucked his brains out.

“Excuse me, coming through,” Maggie called as she wove through the same group of teenagers she’d passed on the way to the hotel.