One Night of Scandal

Releasing him, Darcy stretched one hand toward the arm of the couch where she’d left her purse. She swiped the leather bag by the strap and dragged it closer, then rifled inside until she located the small zippered pouch that housed her first aid travel kit. And her condoms. She was a grown woman living in the twenty-first century—condoms were a necessity.

Reed’s expression turned reluctant as she proudly handed him the foil packet. “This still feels wrong.”

A part of her agreed, but she couldn’t derail the crazy train they’d boarded. Besides, she’d already experienced two mind-blowing orgasms. At this point, a third wouldn’t make much of a difference.

Clearly Reed agreed. In a speedy motion, he peeled off his shirt, momentarily distracting her with his spectacular bare chest. Sleek golden skin and perfectly contoured muscles assaulted her vision. And oh God, he had tattoos. Several of them.

She ran her fingers over the black and red boxing gloves inked above his left pectoral, then traveled down to his hip, to the three rows of dates done in simple black calligraphy. She didn’t ask what the dates meant. She was too distracted by the flash of green that caught her eye when he turned slightly. A lethal dragon spanning one side of his back, so vividly realistic that she shivered.

Reed rolled the condom on, his blue eyes smoldering as he stepped between her legs. Goose bumps broke out on her skin when he fisted his c**k and rubbed the tip of it over her folds.

“I’m going to f**k you nice and slow,” he rasped. “I’m going to make every second count, so neither one of us ever forgets how good it is.”

Her entire body trembled with need, her legs widening on their own accord in anticipation of what was to come.

Reed’s gaze stayed glued to hers as he dragged the head of his c**k up and down her slit, taking his time, lazily bringing it to her entrance before gliding right back up. Neither of them spoke. Neither of them moved, except for his skillful hand on his cock, teasing her to oblivion.

Darcy had never wanted anyone so badly. She stared into his bottomless blue eyes, holding her breath, fighting the urge to beg again. She was so wet her juices now glistened on the condom, but still Reed held back.

His expression glittered with lust, the rugged planes of his face tight with passion. His tongue came out to moisten his bottom lip, his broad chest rising as he drew a breath.

Time stopped. So did the movement of his hand.

“Reed. Please,” she whispered.

He made the sexiest sound she’d ever heard. Half growl, half moan, all man.

Ever so slowly, he guided his erection to her opening, then kept it there. He didn’t slam in. Didn’t thrust his hips. Only a fraction of an inch deep, a hint of what was to come.

Frustration seized Darcy’s throat. Oh God. She might actually die if he wasn’t inside her in the next three sec—

The loud knock on the door stopped Darcy’s heart. Reed froze, his c**k still poised millimeters from her core.

They stared at each other, rooted in place, utterly silent.

Another knock echoed through the living room. “Ms. Grant? Are you home? We’re here to check your fire and CO detectors.”

Oh crap. She’d forgotten all about that. Her landlord had specifically ordered everyone on her floor to be home today for the inspection.

She didn’t answer, glancing at Reed in a panicked plea for help, but the evil gleam in his eyes told her he was the wrong person to ask.

A second later, he slammed his c**k so deep she cried out in pleasure-laced shock.

Oh f**k.

Oh hell.

Oh f**king hell.

Reed was buried inside her, filling her completely.

And there were who knew how many fire inspectors standing right outside the door.

Her cry had clearly been heard because the male voice grew louder. “Ms. Grant?”

White dots swam in Darcy’s field of vision as her inner muscles clamped around Reed’s cock. The deep penetration and delicious stretch felt so damn good she couldn’t move, let alone speak.

But she forced herself to respond to the worried inquiry. “Yes, I’m home,” she called out in a wobbly voice. “I’m…here. In here. But I just got out of the—”

Reed eased his hips back, then drove inside her again.

“Shower!” she croaked. “I’m not…dressed…and—” her voice lowered to a hiss, “Oh God, don’t stop. Please don’t stop.”

Reed didn’t stop. Chuckling quietly, he thrust into her with long, hard strokes that made her vision go blurry again.

“Can you…check the other apartments first and then come back?” she practically wailed at the door. “I won’t be long… I—”

Reed gripped her hips and started f**king her in earnest.

Darcy bit her lip to contain a moan. “I’m almost done—I mean, dressed! I’m getting dressed.”

There was a beat, followed by a cheerful reply. “No problem. I’ll start at the other end of the hall and make my way back to you.”

She registered vague sounds—the soft thud of footsteps, low male voices in conversation, another knock from somewhere farther down the hall. But her attention was elsewhere. Every thought, every frantic heartbeat and ragged breath was focused wholly on Reed. His c**k moving inside her, warm hands gripping her hips, sexy lips brushing her ear as he bent down to whisper into it.

“I promised you nice and slow, but circumstances have changed. Hold on for the ride, baby.”