Temptation 101...

Newly crowned psychologist Justin Maxwell is celebrating his last night as a stripper before he starts his career. Then he spies her in the audience—Grace Cooper. He’s wanted her for years, but as his student, she’d been off-limits. Now Justin has only one goal: sweet, irresistible seduction.

Grace is through skirting around her fierce attraction to Justin. She’s leaving Seattle in two weeks, so why not allow herself one mind-meltingly hot night with Justin? But no pleasure comes without cost. And indulging in their insatiable desire for each other could cost both of them their futures...

“You don’t hide very well, Ms. Cooper...”

Her breath hitched. “Maybe I wanted to be found, Mr. Maxwell.”

“Did you now,” he murmured.

“I bit my lip when you pulled me around.” His mouth was so close to hers their lips brushed, featherlight, as she spoke.

“I apologize.”

“Don’t.” Her pulse thundered. “Kiss it and make it better.”

Tipping her chin up, he closed the distance between them.

Their lips slid together like two puzzle pieces clicking into place, solid and secure. Tongues touched, tentative yet growing bolder. Hands roamed, slow but desperate. And in no time at all, she was lost to the moment.

Seconds turned into minutes as he caressed her face, her neck, the upper swells of her breasts. He treated her like a sensual feast. Short breaths skated over her skin. When he slipped a hand under her shirt and deft fingers found one nipple, she gasped his name and let her head fall back.

Hunger. All she could think was that he made her hunger for him. Deprived of such sensual sensation for so long, she couldn’t do anything more than follow his lead in the moment. She knew she needed to get her feet underneath her, and she would.

Dear Reader,

Welcome back to the world of Beaux Hommes, the hottest and most exclusive all-male revue in Seattle. It’s Friday night, the place is packed and the music’s just cuing up. You’re in for a real treat, because the men who dance here? They know just how to crank the patrons up when they take it all off.

Writing the second book in this trilogy was an exciting challenge. It takes our hero out of the strip club environment for part of the book and places him in his first post-university job—the one he’s dreamed of for so long it’s become as familiar as a well-worn pair of jeans. He’s comfortable with the opportunities he’s created for himself. There’s no doubt in his mind he’ll be successful if he sticks to his five-year plan. Nothing is going to derail him from giving back to the same community service that saved his life all those years ago.

Enter the heroine, who just happens to be the conductor on the hero’s train to contentment. She’s not about to settle for his cautious plan when she finally finds herself in the arms of the one man she’s craved for so long. Nope. Content just won’t cut it, and settling isn’t in her vocabulary.

This is a story of heartache and hope, but it’s also about the power to be more than the sum of your past—whether you chose it or until you worked up the bravery to claim those things that always seemed out of reach. Particularly love.

Fondly,

Kelli Ireland

Wound Up

Kelli Ireland

www.millsandboon.co.uk

From stable hand to a name on the door of a corporate American office, KELLI IRELAND has been many things. (Never a waitress, however. Thank-you cards for her sparing the unsuspecting public from this catastrophe can be sent in care of her agent.) Writing has always been her passion, though. And writing romance? An absolute dream come true. Her theory is that a kiss should be meaningful regardless of length, a hero can say as much with a well-written look as he can with a long-winded paragraph and heroines are meant to hold their own. She’s no Cinderella, and Shakespeare wrote the only Romeo and Juliet, so Kelli sticks to women who can save themselves and tortured heroes who are loath to let them.

Kelli and her husband live in the South, where all foods are considered fry-able and bugs die only to be reborn in bloodsucking triplicate. Visit her online at lkelliireland.com anytime.

To Heather Tebbs, who has never met a challenge she couldn’t conquer.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Dear Reader

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

1

2

3

4

5

6

7

8

9

10

11

12

13

14

15

16

17

18

Extract

Copyright

1

THE METRO TRANSIT belched a nauseating exhaust cloud as it pulled away from the curb. The transit authority might have a clean-fuel initiative, but Justin Maxwell couldn’t breathe. He wiped his tearing eyes at the same time a luxury coupe sped by the bus stop and blanketed him in a sheet of gutter water.

Drenched and sputtering, he cursed. The first thing he was going to do when he started his new job next week was start saving to buy a car. It didn’t have to be a sports car. It didn’t even have to be a new car. Hell, he couldn’t afford new. Just something with a roof, and doors and windows that didn’t leak. Anything that kept him from having to take public transportation through the rotten Seattle weather.

No more crowding under bus stops to get out of the rain. No more shuffling through the bus’s packed aisle to find space to stand. No more leaving his house an hour and a half early in order to make all his connections across town.

Hoisting his duffel over his shoulder, he trudged up Broad Street, cut across Third Avenue and slipped down the alley behind Beaux Hommes.

The front of the all-male revue was decidedly posh. From the back, though, the building looked like nothing more than unimpressive cinder block, barred windows and steel doors. Very industrial chic, if he ignored the rancid smells of the Dumpster and old restaurant grease from the Chinese place across the alley.

He jogged up the steps to the third door and entered his digital pass code. The keypad beeped, the lock clicked open and Justin slipped inside, heading for the locker room and the showers. No way could he hit the stage with the film of grime covering him.

Deep voices and masculine laughter echoed down the hall. As he shoved through the swinging door, he was met with shouts of welcome followed immediately by some serious ribbing about his grungy state.

“Hey, I can’t help it if I’m better dressed on a bad day than the rest of you are on your best.” He dumped his bag in his locker and began peeling off his wet clothes. Since he’d started at the club, he’d always been particular about the way he presented himself. It came from the lean years when clothes were too small because there hadn’t been money to replace what he’d outgrown.

He was not that kid anymore.

Levi, a longtime friend and the club’s lead dancer, sank onto the nearest bench and evaluated him dispassionately. “What the hell happened to you? You look like you’ve been rolling around in the alley. Brawling or balling?”

Justin snorted and scrubbed his hands over his hair, flinging water everywhere. “Neither.”

“That’s too bad.” Levi stretched, lines of thick muscle quivering before he relaxed. “A little action before the show never hurts.”

“Says the least discriminating man I know.”

Levi stood, whipped his towel off and snapped it across the back of one of Justin’s now-bare thighs.

He yelped and spun around. “You suck, Levi.”

The dark-haired man grinned. “Only if they return the favor.”

Justin shook his head and laughed. “I’m grabbing a quick shower. What’s my rotation tonight?”

“You’re fourth. You follow Nick. I follow you.”

“Our resident shrink won’t make any money shaking his junk after me,” Nick called.

Justin laughed. “Right. Because your man boobs are bigger than mine.” And they were. Nick was as tall as Justin at six-two, but he was a solid twenty pounds heavier and it was muscle stacked on muscle.

Nick stuck his head around the end of the lockers and made his pecs dance. “Don’t hate on me because I’m built better.”

Shrugging, Justin grabbed his shower caddy and slammed his locker. “Anyone can build a body, brother, but there’s not a damn thing you can do about that face.”

The room erupted in laughter, Nick included, and Justin headed for the open showers.

It surprised him to realize he would miss this, the camaraderie and feeling of brotherhood, when he cut back to working only a couple of nights a month. Graduating with his PhD meant he’d finally scored a more traditional, definitely more socially acceptable job. Beginning Monday, he would no longer be a full-time Beaux Hommes man but rather Dr. Justin Maxwell, staff psychologist for Second Chances, a nonprofit leadership initiative for disadvantaged inner-city youth. Receiving counseling from a licensed psychologist was a big part of the program.

He would know.

Hot water sluiced over his body as he soaped up, but the heat did little to ease his tension. All he wanted at the moment was to skip tonight’s show, go home, get his stuff ready for Monday and then crash. But the efficiency apartment was brand-new to him. “New” really meant “empty.” He’d bought a bed, but that was it. Save for that and a few pots and pans from a local thrift shop, the apartment was empty. He still funneled most of his earnings to his mom’s house, covering the majority of the bills, making sure his sisters were fed and clothed. He owed them that much at least.

Resting his forearm against the tile wall, he let his chin fall forward so the shower stream pummeled his neck and shoulders.

Sixteen years. Sixteen years since the military had sent the chaplain to their door, and it still pissed him off. But thinking about it wasn’t going to get him anywhere. He needed to get his game face on, dress and hit the weights before his first set.

Shutting the faucet off didn’t stop the emotional trip down memory lane. He found himself considering who he was now versus who he’d been the first time he’d walked through the doors of Beaux Hommes on an open-call night ten years ago. He’d been working as a janitor for several weeks, watching the dancers’ nightly cash take. When the next open call came for tryouts, he was there. He’d figured he’d get up on stage and show everyone how it was done and had brought a couple of his homeboys with him to yuck it up when he was finished. Mistake number one. The lead dancer hadn’t even looked at Justin twice. He’d not even set foot on the stage before the guy called out, “Pass.”

Furious, Justin had got up in the guy’s grill. Mistake number two.

The lead dancer hadn’t backed down, didn’t even bat a damn eye. He’d come at Justin, drilling his finger into his chest. “Grow a pair, and I don’t mean Leftie and Rightie over there, and you can audition again. If, and I do mean if, you cut clean now.”

Justin’s anger, always simmering so close to the surface then, had boiled over. “You’re calling my boys—”

“Your testicles. Yes, I’m calling them your testicles. If you’ve got to wear ’em on your sleeve, this isn’t the job for you. Get out.”

Ego bruised, he’d gone home, stewed over it for a few days and then talked to his counselor about the opportunity. With support from Second Chances, he’d come back. Alone. They’d hired him with one major caveat: the stuff they suspected he was dabbling in—gangs, guns and girls—could never, ever come to work with him. He’d had a choice in that moment. Clean up and make a decent living at twenty, or turn to the streets full-time. Most of the Deuce-8 crew didn’t live to see thirty. It wasn’t much of a choice.

Bracing a fist against the shower wall, Justin grinned and shook his head. He’d been an idiot that first night, thinking he was all that while living fast and hard amid gunfire and turf wars. “Idiot” didn’t even begin to cover it.

Grabbing his towel, he dried off as muffled, bass-heavy music drifted through the locker room. The first screams from the crowd went up. His stomach did the ever-familiar flip. Dancing for dollars would never be second nature to him the way it was to Levi, but the money had always been as good as they’d promised. And he had a large debt to repay—to his mom and to Second Chances.

He grabbed his first costume. Time to pay a few bills.

* * *

JUSTIN STOOD IN the wings and waited. Nick’s routine was almost over, and the stagehands had swept up cash twice already. It would be a nice take.

Levi slipped in beside Justin, wearing his fireman costume—a crowd favorite. “We’ve got a full house tonight.”

That stomach flip thing happened again. Justin hated the tension of standing around waiting. It was easier to show up as the other guy’s set was ending. Then he could simply walk onstage as soon as his props were set. But Levi had rearranged a few things when he’d recently bought into the club as a partner, and one of those things was that the next dancer had to be ready and waiting off stage in order to prevent delays. Despite Justin’s irritation, he had to admit it worked well. They’d been able to add in two extra routines a night, and that meant higher revenues for everyone involved. Still, it didn’t do anything for his butterflies other than give them sharp-edged wings.

The dark-haired man glanced over. “Seems odd this is your last regular weekend.”

“Yeah.” Justin ran a hand around his neck and pulled hard enough his arm shook with the strain. “It won’t change too much, though.”

“We’ll see.”

Assessing the crowd, Justin’s gaze skipped from face to face as he considered his routine. He recognized a few regulars who tipped well. He’d work their seats hard. A couple of tables sported bride sashes and tiaras—wedding groups were always good money. Those were added to his front list. The rest of the tables were crowded with unfamiliar faces. He’d watch those customers, see how they responded to him and react accordingly.

Guilt burned in his belly. This was the part he hated, casing the crowd like some damn dollar-bill desperado, deciding who was worth the bulk of his time after just a couple of quick passes.

He’d learned the skill on the streets, how to single out the best chump or the weakest link. Using that skill now left him feeling tainted, as if he was selling not only his body but his hard-won integrity, as well. Such a long way he’d come, climbing out of the gutter only ten years ago. It was a lifetime and just yesterday.

“Does it ever bother you?” he asked quietly. “What we do?”

Levi didn’t look at him when he answered but kept his eyes on the crowd. “No. We’re feeding a fantasy for them, a craving to desire and be desired. As a psychologist, you know that better than any of us.” When Justin didn’t immediately answer, the taller man glanced his way. “What’s bugging you?”

“Not sure.”

“You need to get laid.”

Justin grinned and shook his head. “That’s your answer for everything.”

“I’m serious. When was the last time you got some?”

“Been a while.”

“You don’t even remember, do you?”

Justin shrugged uncomfortably. “I just got a bed. What was I supposed to do before that, Levi? Ask a woman if she wanted to go back to my empty place and fool around on the floor? That was bound to garner a hell of a lot of yeses.”

Levi turned to him. “You have to blow off some steam, enjoy life a little more than you have over the past, oh, decade plus. You’ve done nothing but take care of your family and go to school. You worked your ass off and you’ve made it, man. Monday begins a new chapter in your life. Take tonight and just enjoy yourself. Once every ten years or so won’t kill you.”

“Funny.” But Justin knew Levi was at least partially right. He’d done nothing but work: as a student and teacher’s assistant on campus during the day and as a stripper Thursday through Saturday nights. There hadn’t been time for indulgences.

Looking over the crowd, his gaze landed on a stunning auburn-haired woman. Bright, cat-shaped eyes tilted up at the corners. She wore very little makeup. Full lips, high cheekbones, pert nose, an elegant neck—everything he could see made his blood hum through his veins. She smiled at the woman beside her, revealing a flash of white teeth and a single dimple.

“Well, what do you know,” he murmured. It was Grace Cooper, the only student who had ever come close to convincing him to break the ethics clause in his teaching assistant’s contract with the university. And she hadn’t even been aware she was doing it. She’d just shown up to class and been beautiful, lusciously curvy and decidedly brilliant.

They’d flirted—a brush of a hand here, a gentle touch there, an undisguised look caught before it was cloaked. He’d come so close to asking her out. She had been everything he’d wanted in a woman. Still was. And the want was still there, burning just beneath the surface.

But he was no longer her instructor, no longer bound by honor to keep his desires to himself. He could pursue her. Here. Tonight. Now.

His previous plan went out the window as he mentally amended his routine. “I’m switching gears,” he said to Levi. “Tell the DJ to cue up the song for my new set. And I’m going to need a chair.”

The other man shifted to see what Justin was staring at. He whistled. “Hottie at one o’clock.”

Justin stepped into Levi’s line of sight. “One warning—hands off.”

Levi grinned and held his hands out, palms open. “Got it.”

“Great. Now get me a chair and make sure the DJ switches up the song.”

Justin’s conscience reared, ready to argue, but lust sucker-punched the bastard before it could draw a solid breath. He’d played by the rules for the past three years where she was concerned. And this was his last night before he joined the eight-to-five world. Once, just once, he wanted to live a little.

For the first time in his life, taking it off felt as natural as breathing.

* * *

GRACE COOPER SANK back in her chair and pushed her mass of hair over one shoulder. This had been the best possible way to spend the weekend. Hands down. Stealing some down time and allowing herself to splurge for once had been critical to her mental health. As an almost psychologist, she would know.

She’d spent the day wandering the waterfront with her friends. Pike Place had the most amazing flower market, and she’d caved, buying a bouquet of daisies for the kitchen. Then there had been the crepe restaurant for dinner. Holy. Crow. So good. She was still full. And now this, the pinnacle of the weekend. Gorgeous men taking their clothes off, a little benign flirting and some innocent fun with her girlfriends before they left the city and started careers in different parts of the country.

Meg, her best friend, leaned over and tapped her shoulder. “Best. Idea. Ever.”

Grace laughed. “You need a bib. You’ve got a little something right—” she dragged her thumb across Meg’s chin “—there.”

Meg grimaced as heat burned across her cheeks. “Did you see Nick?”

“Just as much of him as you did.”

“I’ve never seen a man move that way.” Meg fanned herself. “I’d come back frequently if I wasn’t moving to Baltimore.”

“And I’ll be following you as soon as this practicum is over.” Grabbing her margarita, she took a healthy sip.

Two weeks. After that, she had some decisions to make. The kinds of decisions she’d been looking forward to making for as long as she could remember. She was moving to Baltimore with Meg, completely stepping away from the life she’d been trapped in since birth and becoming something, someone, more. All she’d ever wanted was the ability to choose for herself who she’d be instead of living as an unwanted by-product of her mother’s environment and choices.

Determination was all she’d had to see her through the hard years, the hungry nights, the lonely holidays. And if determination had carried her this far, there was no reason to think it wouldn’t carry her as far as she wanted to go. She’d carve out her own niche, do something special after a life that had been less than noteworthy. If only she could figure out what, and where, her niche was. There wasn’t room to make a mistake—not with the deferment of her student-loan payments ending and her housing situation dire for the next two weeks.

Frowning into her glass, she fought the urge to curse. She’d been forced to move in with her mother when the man she and Meg had been subletting their apartment from returned from his Doctors Without Borders trip early. It wasn’t a big deal for Meg; she’d just gone home. It was more...complicated for Grace. Home had never been the safe place it was supposed to be. The word had never conjured feelings of security, and it had never been a place of refuge. Her mother had only been a parent in the biological sense. Nurture and love had never been part of that woman’s vocabulary.

She rolled her head back and forth and took a deep breath. Two weeks. You can do anything for two weeks.

“Ladies, you’re in for a real treat.” The MC’s voice, deep and dark, dragged her out of her reverie and settled the crowd’s chatter to an anxious hum. “It seems a Beaux Hommes crowd favorite has decided to unveil a new alter ego this evening, and he’s going to be choosing one lucky lady to help with the introductions.”

“I wonder if Nick would understand if I volunteered,” Meg murmured.

Grace chuckled, watching as the spotlight whisked across the crowd. Hands were up in the air, women waving like crazed matadors in the face of angry bulls as they tried to garner the operator’s attention. She shook her head and bent forward to grab her purse. Virgin or not, her drink could use refreshing. Might as well do it while they were setting up for the next dancer.

Air whispered around her as the owner of black wingtips stopped in front of her chair. She froze. Cologne, musky and rich, tickled her nose. The spotlight pinpointed her, and she swore it burned hot as the noonday sun.

A work-roughened finger hooked under her chin and gently lifted.

This was not happening. She didn’t want to be chosen to help the policeman or chef or magician or whatever he was going to be dressed as take off his clothes. She just wanted to watch. And tip. And watch some more. But be part of the act? No.

In spite of herself, she let her head tilt back and slowly took him in. Her eyes raked across a tall, hard body. He pulled her up until she stood in front of him. Subtle pressure encouraged her to meet his gaze. Shock made her draw in a sharp breath.

Dark brows arched elegantly over pale blue irises ringed in navy blue. His lashes were so thick she almost hated him. Almost. His jaw was chiseled. The way his mouth tipped up at one corner said he smiled regularly, and she had the strangest urge to see that smile now. Not his stage smile, but a genuine one. His lower lip was full, made for nibbling, while his upper lip formed a perfect cupid’s bow. She couldn’t stop staring at his mouth—no surprise. It had always been this way with him.

“Justin Maxwell,” she whispered. The one man in the world she’d hungered for on every level. The one man who had been out of reach for three years. Every cell in her body heated until a fine sheen of sweat decorated the nape of her neck. She licked her lips as her breath came short. How could he be here? Tonight? Why? And why couldn’t he be wearing more clothes when he touched her?

He tipped his fedora in acknowledgment, leaving it sitting at a cocky angle. “I’ll need you to come with me, Ms. Cooper.”

The soft timbre of his voice whispered through her, caressing and igniting parts of her that had no business being on fire.

Grace opened her mouth to politely decline. Yes, she’d harbored a major crush on the man for years, but that didn’t mean she’d hop on stage with him at his request. No, she couldn’t. “Absolutely, Professor.”

“Never was a professor, and I’m not standing in front of anyone’s whiteboard anymore, sweetheart.” And she wasn’t sitting in a lecture hall anymore, either.

Her stomach flipped over as anxiety landed dead center in her belly.

Taking her hand, he backed through the crowd with confident steps, as if he knew exactly who and what was behind him.

He led her up a short set of stairs and stood her in the middle of the stage. “Don’t think about the crowd. Focus on me. I’ll take care of you,” he said quietly.

Her inner wild child stretched and purred, tired of being put in a box over the years as she’d busted her ass to earn her undergraduate and graduate degrees. Now all that wild part of her wanted was a piece of him. “I’ll hold you to that.”

That coveted smile pulled at one corner of his mouth. “Please do.”

She gave a short nod, and he raised a hand as he stepped away from her. The lights immediately dimmed and several women screamed while others whistled.

Music started, soft at first. Initially it had a digital feel, and then the first electric guitar cords drowned out the synthesizer. Bass guitar dropped in with a deep, almost drumming line. The music hammered at her nerves, lighting her up from the inside and making her hyperaware of the way her clothes rubbed over her skin.

The spotlight flashed on, narrow at first and then widening to show Justin moving toward her in a Milan-worthy stalk-walk through the artificial smoke billowing across the stage. His feet hit the floor in time with the music. He flicked his trench coat open, letting it billow behind him as he moved. Tuxedo-style pants were held up with black suspenders. He wore a cummerbund of white satin. And that was it. His bare chest showcased his warm skin and ripped physique. He wasn’t huge but, damn, she would have given just about anything to trail her fingers over his defined pecs and down those rippling abs.

She glanced at his face and froze.

His eyes were hot, his smile one of pure seduction. He arched a brow as he closed in on her.

Grace licked her lips again, the action partly nerves but predominately anticipation. She wanted his hands on her in the worst way and, surprisingly, it turned her on to know that other people were watching.

As if he’d heard her thoughts, his eyes grew hooded. He stalked her in an ever-tightening circle. Whipping his coat off, he flung it to the side as the lyrics settled around her in a haze of lust. The singer was instructing the woman in the song to beg. But instead of encouraging Grace to go to her knees, Justin did.

He dropped behind her and ran broad hands up the backs of her legs, over her ass and settled them at her waist, making her skin suddenly feel too tight. His hot breath skated along the hollow of her spine as his thumbs lifted the hem of her shirt and he placed his firm lips against the soft sway of her back.

She involuntarily arched.

Strong hands tightened around her waist, holding her still. The tip of his tongue traced the tiniest line up her skin.

A whimper caught in her throat. Heat flooded her sex.

He moved behind her, scaling her body like a half-naked superhero.

She absently wondered what his superpower would be and realized, without a doubt, it would be the power of seduction. The power to make her crave him. The power to make her beg if he wanted her to.

Smooth hands slid under her shirt and up her belly. Thumbs traced ghost-like over the lower swells of her breasts. Her nipples pearled.

Lost to the sensations, her eyes fluttered shut.

Then he was gone.

Her head snapped around, searching for him.

He’d moved into the shadows near the edge of the stage to retrieve a chair. Pushing it toward her, he moved with lithe grace. His skin gleamed, pulled taut over those defined muscles, and his eyes burned as his lips curled with that superpower, seduction. And the closer he came, the hotter she got.

Three things hit Grace all at once.

One, she genuinely wanted this man in every sense of the word want.

Two, she was going to have him.

Three, she was going to enjoy every minute and consider the consequences later.

2

JUSTIN HADN’T TAKEN his rip-away tuxedo pants off yet. He should have. The routine called for it. But he couldn’t. Not until he got his cock under control. The minute he laid his lips to the small of Grace’s back, that traitor had stopped listening to his demand to stand down. Primal hunger had roared through him at the slight taste of salt on her skin. Then the faint musk of her arousal had punched his lust up to uncontrollable levels. Never had he responded to a woman this way. Something about her made him lose control, and, as usual, that both fascinated and irritated him. He was famed for his control.

Seating her in the chair, he went to his knees in front of her, legs spread wide. He leaned back on one hand and pumped his hips toward her. Sure, his arousal was apparent—she might as well know up front. Keeping things the way they’d always been was no longer an option. Now that she’d seen him here, had discovered that he danced, the knowledge couldn’t be taken back. He was going to run with it as far and fast as he could go before she called stop. For the first time since he’d started dancing, he wanted the patron, this patron, to see him as available.

Her eyes locked on his groin. Then they dragged their way up his body to meet his.

The sheer hunger that smoldered in their depths stole his breath.

“Touch me.” The words were out of his mouth without a thought.

“Beg.”

His balls tightened at the command. So she was listening to the song, was she?

He grinned, putting every ounce of predatory sensuality into it he could muster as he rose to his knees and got in her face. “You’ll regret that.”

“Make me.”

“Done.” Raw, sexual hunger surfed the arousal flooding his veins. Wave after wave of desire pulsed through him. Crawling around her, he prowled up her body slowly, bent to her ear and breathed, “Please.”

A hard shiver worked through her.

Justin pulled her into his arms and switched places with her, settling her across his lap. Hips thrusting, he pantomimed raw sex as his hands ran down her hips. The heat of her sex bled through his thin pants and he wanted nothing more than to touch her there, to find out if she was as wet as he wanted her to be. His hands shook. “Please,” he said, louder this time.

Smooth hands ran over his chest.

He lifted his chin and watched her. The way her eyes locked on his torso, the way her fingertips traced every contour of his body—it fueled his need for her. Wrapping his arms around her ass, he surged to his feet.

Her eyes widened, locking on his.

Moving his face toward hers was natural. He leaned in until their lips almost touched. “Please.” The whispered plea made their lips touch for a split second, but it was enough. She tasted like fresh lime, tart and sweet. Such a heady mix.

She gasped as he spun and set her in the chair again. Moving away, he toed his shoes off one at a time, kicking them clear and, with his back to the crowd, ripped his pants off.

She sank her teeth into her bottom lip even as her nostrils flared. The message was clear. She wanted him.

So he danced for her.

Facing Grace, he went to his knees and ran his hands over his body. He rolled a finger out and curled it in a “come here” motion.

She stood and walked toward him with exaggerated steps, her movements in perfect sync with the music. The way she moved, all sultry confidence, made his blood boil. When she reached him, he settled on his heels and pulled her forward to straddle him. He thrust upward, sliding his free hand up her front. Then he slid through her legs, jumped up and moved in behind her. Gripping her hips, he bent her forward some and folded his body over hers, settling his erection in the crevice of her ass.

She shivered.

Or it might have been him.

The music ended and the lights went out.

He grabbed her hand and headed for the wings. She kept up, never balking, and he was relieved. Hunger burned low in his gut. He wanted her so badly he was terrified he might actually throw her over his shoulder and run away with her. To where, he had no idea. Probably the first hotel he came across.

The Spartan decor of the back of the stage was at total odds with the plush interior out front. They nearly ran down a long corridor, his hand clinging to hers. Several performers called out greetings as they passed.

He ignored them.

Without warning, he slid to a stop and pulled her into a corner.

Grace crashed into him.

Justin spun, grabbed her and pressed her up against the wall. “I need you.”

Wide, green eyes stared up at him, her pupils blown with desire. “Feeling’s mutual.”

Twining their fingers together, he dragged her hands over her head. She arched into him, and he groaned. His lips met hers in a desperate duel for dominance. Her mouth offered endless pleasure while her body smelled like sin. She rubbed against him, hooking one leg around his as he wedged a thigh between hers. Her soft mewl was nearly his undoing.

He craved her so badly and felt slightly guilty for dragging her back here without even talking to her first. If someone had treated either of his little sisters this way? Hell, he’d kill them. The shock of his behavior washed over him as effectively as a bucket of ice water. This was no way to treat a woman he liked and respected, a woman he’d wanted to ask out for three years. Jerking back, he stared down at her, panting. “I’m sorry.”

“No talking.” She leaned up and reclaimed his mouth, nipping his bottom lip before soothing the sting with the tip of her tongue. “Not yet.”

He pulled away. “I don’t do this. Ever.”

She sighed, and relaxed against the wall. “Believe it or not, neither do I.”

Dropping his forehead to hers, he closed his eyes. “Want to get out of here?”

“Yeah.”

“I’ll meet you out front in ten minutes.”

She kissed him quickly. “Make it eight.” Then she pulled her hands free and slipped under his arm, heading back the way they’d come, hips swaying hypnotically.

“Door to the club’s on the right,” he called.

She raised a hand in acknowledgment but never slowed down.

With a huff, he pushed off the wall and jogged toward the locker room.

He figured he had six minutes to come up with a decent plan that ended with her naked in his arms.

He’d borrow Levi’s car, though it rankled that he didn’t have his own. They could go to a late dinner. Maybe add something fun in there. Or a trip to his favorite dessert place for something sweet. The little restaurant he had in mind wasn’t fancy but it was intimate. They could talk. He could show her he was better than the sum of his behavior so far tonight.

A dark smile spread across his face as he headed for his locker.

Maybe he’d go straight for the kill shot and try to talk her into breakfast...tomorrow morning.

* * *

GRACE SLIPPED TO her table where her girlfriends were chattering like songbirds.

Meg reached out and grabbed her by the wrist. “Holy crap, girl! You’re the luckiest woman I know.”

“Yeah?” She grabbed her purse. “I’m about to get luckier.”

“Shut up.” Lynn, a close friend, leaned across the table. “You aren’t going out with him.”

“Nope.” She grinned and let the wickedness of her thoughts show. “I have the distinct impression we’ll be spending the evening in.”

Meg whooped and Lynn laughed. Gretchen, the most levelheaded of the group, sipped her drink and watched Grace over the rim of her glass. “You think this is a good idea? You don’t know him.”

“I actually sort of do.” They clamored for more information, but she waved them off. “We met in the psychology department. No, I had no idea he danced here. Yes, he’s a fantastic kisser. No, you won’t get more details than that, so don’t ask.” She looked at Gretchen. “Just this once, I want to live a little.”

Gretchen nodded. “I get that. I do.” She took another sip, her brow furrowing as Grace watched. “And I can’t believe I’m saying this, but you could do worse than living it up with a stripper.”

The muscles in Grace’s neck tightened and made her nod sharp. “Right.”

All three women were silent at her words. That they felt sorry for her chafed. Her chin went up. “I’ll check in with you guys tomorrow.”

Gretchen lifted her glass, the casual gesture at direct odds with the concern reflected in her eyes. “Promise you’ll be careful. Oh, and take my smartphone. Your by-the-minute phone is great if you have time to call for help, but in the event he’s an ax murderer? It’s useless. I’ll turn on the ‘find me’ feature so I can recover your body if necessary.”

Grace accepted the phone as she stood. “I have no idea where we’ll go, but I’m guessing his place. If the phone takes off at a high rate of speed in the next couple of hours? Come after me.” She glanced at her watch. “Gotta go.”

She tried to keep her pace casual and controlled as she headed for the front door. In truth, though, she wanted to run. Despite her best efforts, her strides lengthened until she was charging through the club. Several women commented on her passing. Most of the words were benign if a little jealous, but some were downright mean. Grace didn’t slow down. She wasn’t going to allow herself to apologize for wanting sex, for enjoying it and for taking advantage of the moment. Had she been a man, she’d have been admired for the conquest. As a woman, she wasn’t about to apologize for the same. Justin would be her conquest as much as she’d be his.

Cool air heavy with mist washed over her as she pushed through the club’s front doors. She stopped and slowly turned.

Staring at the ground in front of him, Justin came around the corner of the building wearing a knee-length trench over jeans and a white T-shirt. His chin came up, and his eyes narrowed.

She started for him without thinking.

They came together on the sidewalk, her arms going around his neck at the same time he lowered his mouth to hers. The kiss was swift but sure.

“Hi,” he said softly.

“Hi, yourself.”

He searched her face.

Her brows drew together. “Problem?”

“No. Just...” He shrugged.

Unease curled through her belly. She stepped a pace away.

Justin caught her hand. “I feel bad for nearly accosting you.” He raked his fingers through his hair and stared over her shoulder, refusing to meet her gaze. “I want you to know I’m a better man than that.”

“Hey.” She tipped her head to the side and grabbed his attention. “I’m perfectly capable of saying no.”

“Yeah, but—”

Laying her fingers across his lips, she shook her head. “No.”

“What I meant was—”

“No.” She pulled her hand away. “See? I told you I’m good at saying it.”

He arched a brow and his lips twitched.

“I mean it, Justin. Short of a brief but intimate introduction to my tonsils and your insider knowledge of my grades in Psych 410, 510 and 525, we’re strangers. You’ll have to trust I know myself well enough to ask for what I need.” Closing the distance between them, she placed one hand over his heart and ran the other around his neck. With soft pressure, she pulled him close. “And what I want is you.” She laid her lips over his in a tender kiss.

He responded with unerring skill, moving over her lips to her jaw and laying small kisses all the way to her ear. “Might I interest you in grabbing some dinner?”

Her heart lodged in her throat at the question. The most she could manage was a small shake of her head. The hitch in his breath made her curl her fingers into the short wisps of hair at the nape of his neck. “I’ve already eaten.”

“I’m starving.”

Desire wove through those two simple words, and she understood it wasn’t just food he craved. She leaned into him. He wrapped his arms around her, and she reveled in his strength as he pulled her even closer. The scent of laundry detergent from his clothes mingled with his cologne to give him a clean, masculine smell she loved.

He rested his chin atop her head and stroked her back in an achingly tender gesture. “I’d like to grab something to eat. I want to do this right. We can decide where to go from there, okay?”

“What sounds good to you?”

“I need protein and carbs. Dancing burns me out.” He pulled away and, cupping her jaw, tipped her face up to his. “You did really well on stage.”

“Thanks. So did you.”

His head fell back as he laughed. Settling, he grinned down at her. “You didn’t tip me.”

“Maybe I’m holding out for a private performance.”

Blue eyes darkened with desire. “I bet we can arrange something after I eat.”

Grace traced the planes of his chest through the soft cotton of his shirt, thinking. She could play this any number of ways. Games weren’t her style, though. Direct communication was much more in line with her preferences. So...taking a deep breath, she met his gaze head on. “I suppose there’s dinner or...breakfast.”

Justin’s heart tripped beneath her palm before it began to hammer against his rib cage. His lips parted, but he said nothing.

“Or we could—”

“Breakfast is perfect.” Lacing their fingers together, he lifted their joined hands to his lips and gently kissed her knuckles. “Did you drive tonight?”

“I actually rode with friends.” She pulled free and began to dig in her purse, determined to find Meg’s cell phone. “I can call a cab.”

Justin was quiet before saying, “I’ve got a car in paid parking.”

Something in his voice made her look up. “Are you sure?”

His smile was a little too bright. “I’m pretty sure that’s where it is.”

She searched his face but that smile never wavered. “Okay.”

He draped an arm over her shoulders and started across the street. Halfway there, his steps faltered briefly. Dropping his arm, he started walking toward the parking garage again. “Sixth floor unfortunately. It was crowded tonight.”

The urge to poke at him a little, to figure out why the mention of the car had irritated him, almost overwhelmed her. Instead, she followed him to the elevator.

The minute the doors started to slide shut, he rounded on her. “For the record? Just because I’m slowing this down a little doesn’t mean I’m not desperate for you. We clear?”

She dropped her purse and took an involuntary step back as he closed in, wove his hands through her hair and descended on her mouth with obvious intent. All she could do was grip his jacket and hold on.

Justin owned her mouth, his tongue delving inside hers with breath-stealing eroticism. He tasted of spearmint mouthwash. He felt like the embodiment of temptation. He feasted on her, a man starving for her and only her. It was too much and not enough.

She gasped and arched into his hand when he cupped her breast and stroked a thumb over one aching nipple. Then he grabbed her ass and pulled her into his erection. His arousal was contagious. She was tinder to his flame and her body went up in a flash of female heat. A desperate moan escaped her tenuous control.

He swallowed the sound.

Their harsh breathing and sharp gasps filled her ears.

The elevator slid to a stop.

Justin lifted his head to wordlessly stare down at her.

The doors started to close.

He glanced over and hit the button to hold them open.

“I thought you were hungry,” she said softly.

“I might have been wrong.”

His stomach chose that moment to growl. He cursed.

“Forget breakfast. The sooner we get you fed, the sooner we can...” Heat burned across her cheeks. Damn fair complexion.

The skin of his thumb was slightly rough as he caressed her cheek. “We’re both adults, Grace. Unless you’re talking about a Monopoly marathon, I would imagine we’re on the same page.”

“Yay, adulthood,” she whispered.

He grinned. Whatever bothered him earlier had disappeared. “Yay, adulthood, indeed.” Swooping low, he grabbed her purse in one hand and settled the other on her waist. “Let’s go, beautiful.”

Grace stepped out of the elevator and followed him across the concrete pad. She could give herself this one night. On Monday she’d start her two-week practicum, the last thing she was required to complete in order to earn her diploma. Then she’d start her life in Baltimore. She’d be free. So, yeah, she would enjoy tonight. Maybe she could talk Justin into grabbing something at a drive-through so they could get to Monopoly faster. She wondered if he’d chosen the long-running game for a reason.

She could only hope.

3

NAVIGATING FIRST THE parking garage’s hairpin turns and then Seattle’s waterfront traffic, Justin’s mind wandered over the woman in the borrowed Camaro’s passenger seat. The fact that she had let him take the lead had been appealing at first. It only became an issue when she didn’t offer to drive or take him to her place. What was he going to do? He couldn’t take her to his apartment. A hotel he could afford would seem sleazy. A hotel he couldn’t afford was irresponsible. He could ask her if she was interested in taking this to her place, but that seemed overtly presumptuous, even in the face of their conversation. There was always the chance Levi would let Justin use his pad, but that felt worse than a cheap hotel. He supposed he might—

“What sounds appealing?”

He couldn’t stop the tightening of his hands on the steering wheel any more than he could change his immediate response. “You.”

Her sultry laugh nearly undid him. “I was thinking more along the lines of food, like drive-through versus restaurant.”

Heart pounding out a tribal rhythm in his brain, he chanced a glance at her. He nearly blew a vein. Her eyes were radiant in the streetlights, her skin nearly translucent. She nibbled her lower lip. Her palms were rubbing up and down her thighs, and he doubted she even realized it.

“I’m going to wreck this car if you don’t stop looking at me like that,” he murmured, returning his attention to the road.

“Like what?”

He grinned and shook his head. “Same way you used to look at me in class, making me forget what I was lecturing on.” Reaching across the console, he fished for her hand, found it and brought it to his lips. Her skin was soft and smelled of shea butter and vanilla. “You used to make me wonder how you’d taste if I said ‘to hell with it all’ and kissed you in class.”

Her hand tightened slightly around his. “Why didn’t you?”

“Mostly? I needed the job. But there was also the other part of me, the curious part that wondered what might happen if we ever crossed paths outside of the university, where we had a chance to let things play out without being worried about the rules.”

“I suppose now’s the time to satisfy your curiosity. And mine.”

He glanced at her, and all the blood in his brain dove south. “You’ve eaten dinner, but did you have dessert?”

“No.”

“There’s this great little dessert place in the market district. It might be crowded, but it’s worth the wait if you’re game.”

“Sounds wonderful.” She shifted toward him, resting on her hip. “How long have you danced at Beaux Hommes?”

He shrugged. “I started when I was twenty, so ten years.”

“Wow.”

“Why?” He chanced a quick glance at her as he wove through traffic.

“I just wondered how long I have to do penance for not realizing you danced there—and for not coming into the club and watching you sooner. Looks like I’ve got a decade to beat myself about the head and shoulders.”

A short bark of laughter escaped him. “Enjoyed it that much, did you?” Spindly fingers of unease skittered along his spine. He would have preferred to keep his dancing and the club out of whatever happened between them.

Shoving her hair off her forehead, she nodded. “I enjoyed it way more than is probably legal in most states.”

“Careful, Ms. Cooper. We can’t afford to have the club shut down.” He pulled into the café’s parking lot and lucked into a space at the very front as another car left. “Out of curiosity, what would the charge have been?”

She didn’t hesitate. “Unadulterated lust compounded by indecent thoughts in a public place.”

The grin that stole over Justin was absolute. “You’re quick.”

This time she was the one who shrugged. “I’ve been suffering long enough to know.”

Hand on the door handle, he paused. “Suffering?”

“Three years, Justin.” Soft words in the car’s semilit interior. “For three years I’ve watched you and laughed with you and wanted you. Remember when you had us get up, one at a time, to defend our theses? I bombed it because I couldn’t stop staring at you. You were kind, and didn’t call me out for my horrible delivery. I liked you even more for that, and I couldn’t stop wondering if you were half as compelled as I was to skip class and play doctor.” She smiled, the look somehow bittersweet. “I won’t pretend it wasn’t that way. Not now. Not anymore.”

His heart lurched. “No. No more pretending.” Drawing a deep breath, he pushed the door open. “Food first. Talk second.” He glanced back. “And we’ll discuss the specific terms of Monopoly.”

“Deal.” She slipped out of the car and met him at the door.

Taking her hand was entirely natural. He silently led her inside and snagged the first available table. A waitress was there in a heartbeat, and she immediately started to flirt with Justin, irritating him. The last thing he wanted was Grace to think he was an unconscionable jerk who had no respect for his date.

Date.

And that’s really what this was. It had started as something different and evolved into him sitting across a table from her, watching her, wanting her. That last hadn’t changed.

“Sir?” The waitress twirled her pen. “Does anything here sound...appetizing?”

Reaching across the table, he took Grace’s hand and met her eyes when he answered. “Yeah, something here is just about perfect, but she’s not on your menu.”

Grace blushed, charming him to the core.

He lifted her hand to his mouth and kissed her knuckles. “I’ll have a turkey club, no mayo, and fries. Grace?”

“I didn’t read the menu.”

“Do you like vanilla?”

“Yes.”

“Do you trust me?”

She watched him, searching his eyes before answering. “Yes.”

“My date and I will have the crème brûlée with fresh fruit. Just one spoon. Thanks.”

“Sure.” The waitress flounced away.

“She seems a bit disappointed you’re here with someone,” Grace said on a small smile.

“Yeah, well, she’s alone in her disappointment.”

“Kind of you to say.” Grace traced her thumb over the heel of Justin’s hand, then opened her mouth and closed it.

“Something wrong?”

“What’s going on here, Justin?”

“What do you mean?”

She tilted her head, gesturing to the café. “This.”

“Shockingly, people are eating.” He leaned forward. “And we’re going to join them.”

Huffing, she shook her head. “That’s not what I meant and you know it.”

Justin didn’t let go of her hands. Instead, he waited to speak until she looked at him. “We’re finally sitting in a restaurant holding hands and sharing a meal, no ethics clauses clouding the view. We’re exploring what might happen when everything else is peeled away and it’s just us.”

Her breath caught and her fingers tightened around his. “And what might happen?”

“Whatever we both consent to. Nothing more. Nothing less.”

“I’m not going to be in Seattle much longer, Justin. I don’t want serious. All I want is to...play.”

Grinning at her, he shook his head. “You have a thing for board games?”

“Not until about thirty minutes ago.”

Ignoring the disapproving glances, he leaned over the table and kissed her gently before settling back in his chair. “Which piece do you want to be?”

“All of them, and more than once.”

Her husky answer wound him up. Lust and longing and sexual hunger created a volatile cocktail of need that swam through him. “I promise you’ll pass ‘Go’ more than once.”

She grinned and shook her head. “I can’t believe we’re sitting here sexing up an eighty-year-old board game.”

“And I find it strangely attractive that you know how old the game is.”

“One of my useless pieces of trivia gleaned from years of...” She trailed off.

“Years of what?” he pressed.

She took a moment to meet his gaze. “Just a lot of lonely years.”

The waitress slid his sandwich on the table and refilled their drinks before leaving.

“Want a bite?” Justin asked, taking his hand away from hers to pick up the sandwich.

She shook her head as if to clear it. “No, thanks.”

“Ah. Holding out for dessert. I knew you were my kind of woman.”

“We’ll see about that.” She reached over and took a fry. “They’re hot.”

“Consider me forewarned,” he said softly.

Her eyes darkened. “How in the hell did you just make a single french fry sexy?”

“Sweetheart, I didn’t. You did.” He took a bite of the sandwich and chewed slowly, watching her.

“You’re killing me, Smalls.”

He paused, sandwich halfway to his mouth. “You’re a fan of The Sandlot?”

“You just earned major points for actually recognizing where that quote comes from.”

“What about you?”

She shrugged, pushing her hair over her shoulder. “My mom wasn’t the most involved mother. I grew up believing Scooby-Doo was the evening news, and if I could find a book to lose myself in? Well, that was the best of all. You’ll be stunned to learn I’ve been a pirate, a mercenary, a vampire, a steampunk inventor and, on more than one occasion, a damsel in distress.”

He licked salt off his finger. “You don’t strike me as distressed.”

“No, I’m not.” She shrugged. “I’ve never been that woman.”

“Want to know my other favorite quote from that movie? ‘Anyone who wants to be a can’t-hack-it pantywaist who wears their mama’s bra, raise your hand.’”

She laughed. “I forgot about that one!”

The sound of her laughter slid through him like some kind of chemical reaction, pulverizing common sense until he was nothing but a mass of desire. “Grace,” he said, choked.

Watching him, she reached over and slid the plate away and flagged the waitress. “Can we get our dessert?”

“Was there something wrong with your sandwich?” the young girl asked.

“No,” Grace answered. “We’re just anxious to share dessert.”

“Very anxious,” Justin quietly added.

The waitress rolled her eyes but took the half-eaten sandwich away.

Lacing their fingers together, he was surprised at how small her hand seemed in his.

“Justin?”

He met her stare, letting everything he felt show in his eyes. “Every time you came into class, every time you stopped by my office with research notes or questions on theory or treatment options, every time we ran into each other on campus—I knew you were smarter and more driven than any of the other students. You were special. There were obstacles, boundaries I wasn’t willing to push. Those are gone. I want you.”

The waitress set the crème brûlée between them. “Enjoy.”

Justin didn’t let go of Grace’s hand. Instead, he picked up the spoon with his free hand and scooped up a small bit of the creamy dessert and held it out. “Bite.” A statement, not a question.

She complied without any hesitation, her lips closing over the spoon, her eyes fluttering shut in absolute bliss.

A rush of heat flooded his groin, and his cock kicked against his jeans.

“That’s delicious,” she murmured, licking her lips.

He leaned over and tasted the sweetness from her mouth.

Her eyes flared before closing again.

She tasted decadent, rich and smooth with a hint of crisp, caramelized sugar.

It was the best taste he’d ever had on his tongue.

Taking the spoon from him, she set it down and retrieved a strawberry. She presented the meatiest part of the fruit, tracing his lips with it, teasing, before she let him take a bite.

Justin realized he was going to cause a scene when he stood up and the world caught sight of the undeniable erection pounding against the waistband of his jeans.

“Jeez. Get a room,” someone nearby muttered.

Annoyed someone would disrespect Grace, he started to whip around and address the speaker.

Grace squeezed his fingers, stopping him.

“That’s a fabulous idea,” she said, so softly he thought he must have misunderstood.

“Sorry?”

She met his gaze without flinching. “I said, that’s a fabulous idea.”

“Getting a room?” he asked stupidly.

“Yes, Justin.” She leaned over and nipped his bottom lip before whispering, “And make it somewhere nearby.”

He let go of her hand to flip the check over as he dug out his wallet. He dropped enough to cover the bill and tip, grabbed Grace’s hand and hauled her out of the restaurant.

She laughed as she followed. “It doesn’t have to be a fifty-yard dash.”

Opening the car door for her, he muttered, “The first time, it probably will be. After that? Monopoly is all about strategy and longevity, baby.” He met her wide-eyed gaze. “This is what you’re getting into with me—all night. No compromises on pleasure given or received. No apologies tomorrow. We talk about what happens next after that.”

“Take me to breakfast and you’ve got a deal.”

“Done.”

Justin did his best to walk to the driver’s side calmly.

He was pretty sure he failed.

* * *

JUSTIN WAS ALREADY backing the car out of the parking space before Grace could buckle her seat belt.

He sped down the 519, his eyes scanning the buildings as they flashed by. “If you don’t have any objections, I thought the Best Western in Pioneer Square would be nice.”

“Sounds perfect to me,” she said, voice husky.

Justin’s grip tightened on the wheel as he sped up. “You’re making me crazy. The voice thing? It’s going to push me over the edge.”

“Can’t help it,” she murmured.

He glanced at her quickly. “Seriously?”

“Happens when I get turned on, I guess.”

“You guess?”

“It’s never happened before.”

“Why now?”

She laughed. “You seduced me, Justin. From the moment you stood in front of me at the club to the strawberry kiss, you...you... Yeah. You seduced me.”

His jaw tightened. “I haven’t talked you into anything you don’t want to do, have I?”

“Considering this is a mutual agreement, there’s been no ‘talking me into’ anything.”

He stepped on the brakes hard and whipped the car into a narrow space in front of the hotel. “Wait here. I’ll get a room.”

She reached for her purse. “Do you want me to pitch in half?”

“Hell, no. Just be here when I get back and we’ll call it even.”

“Justin?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m going to head in and wander around.”

“Why?”

Her grin was pure sex. “So you can find me.”

His mouth went drier than if he’d filled it with Pixy Stix candy. Nodding, he pushed off the car and jogged into the lobby only to end up waiting in line behind a pissy traveler. Nothing about the guy’s requests was possible, and Justin grew more and more agitated as he waited. She walked past him and his gaze locked on her.

Calm just wasn’t in his repertoire at this point. He had to get this first rush of Grace out of his system. Then he could slow down and enjoy the night. Until then, he was going to burn for the woman who was at this very moment peeling an orange from the breakfast area and waiting on the elevator to go who-knew-where.

Something about that challenge, to hunt her down, claim her as his prize, made him want to shove the stranger in front of him aside and demand the first available room with a king-size bed.

When the guy in front of him finally stormed off, Justin stepped up to the counter and pulled his wallet out. “I need a room for two, king bed.”

The sleepy-eyed clerk didn’t even glance up from the computer. “Smoking or nonsmoking?”

“Non.”

“Floor preference.”

“First available.”

“Front or rear of the building.”

“Look,” Justin said, leaning over the counter. “Give me a room with a king-size bed that’s clean and has room-darkening drapes in this zip code and I’m cool. Just get me the key before I rupture a nut, feel me?”

A lazy smile spread across the guy’s face. “Saw you two come in. She’s hot as hell.”

“Then have a little sympathy, man. A key.”

“Cash or credit?”

“Cash plus a tip if you’ll just give me the damn key,” Justin all but snarled.

A couple of taps of the keyboard and the clerk produced two key cards.

Justin paid him in ones and fives, not thinking about it until the guy arched a brow.

“You pick her up at a strip club?”

“Yeah.”

“Cool. Where does she work?”

“Man, she’s not the stripper. I am.” He scooped up his wallet and glared at the guy. “Good night.”

“Not as good as yours is gonna be,” the guy muttered, shifting to stare at the computer again.

Justin didn’t comment, didn’t spare the guy another look. He went straight to the car and parked it near the first exterior entrance. The room number put them on the fourth floor. He’d start on the second floor and sweep every hallway until he found her. And when he did? He was passing Go and collecting his two hundred dollars.

Immediately.

* * *

GRACE WANDERED ALONG the third-floor hallway, slipping into every vending nook and laundry cranny as she waited for Justin. No telling what was taking so long. The thought that he’d changed his mind and bailed on her flitted through her mind before she dismissed it. He wasn’t the type to go back on his word. She knew that much about him.

A stairwell door closed heavily behind her.

Strong hands spun her around and yanked her into a hard body before she had a chance to react. “You don’t hide very well, Ms. Cooper.”

Her breath hitched. “Maybe I wanted to be found, Dr. Maxwell.”

“Did you now?” he murmured.

“I bit my lip when you pulled me around.” His mouth was so close to hers their lips brushed, featherlight, as she spoke.

“I apologize.”

“Don’t.” Her pulse thundered. “Kiss it and make it better.”

Tipping her chin up, he closed the distance between them. Their lips slid together like two puzzle pieces clicking into place, solid and secure. Tongues touched, tentative before growing bolder. Hands roamed, slow but desperate. And in no time at all, she was lost to the moment.

He treated her like a sensual feast, caressing her face, her neck, the upper swells of her breasts. His short breaths skated over her skin. When he slipped a hand under her shirt and found one nipple, she gasped his name and let her head fall against the wall he pinned her to.

Those magic fingers disappeared seconds before he pulled her close with one hand and cupped the nape of her neck with the other to direct the kiss.

Hunger. He made her hunger for him. Deprived of such sensual sensation for so long, she couldn’t do anything more than follow his lead in the moment. She knew she needed to get her feet underneath her, regain control, and she would. Grace might be a lot of things, but out of control wasn’t one of them.

As if he’d heard her, he broke the kiss. He stared down at her, his blue eyes darkened with lust, the pupils dilated. “C’mon.”

Justin ushered her into the dimly lit stairwell and jogged up the stairs, hauling her along. He emerged on the fourth floor, went to room 420 and, with a shaking hand, inserted the key card. The electronic lock clicked open and he pulled her into the dark room, this time letting the door shut quietly behind them. The moment they were inside, he had her pressed into the corner and slipped his hands up under her shirt to unhook her bra with deft fingers. When the clasp released, he moved to cup one bare breast. The nipple, beaded before he reached it, hardened even more as he pinched and tugged the tender flesh.

Grace slid her hands under his coat, around his waist and up his shirt. Skin to skin. Heat to heat. She reveled in his shudder when she raked her fingernails down his spine, grew empowered by his increasingly frenzied actions. Never in all her life had she felt so raw. When he bent, wrapped his arms around her waist and hoisted her against the wall, her legs automatically wrapped around him and her hips thrust forward.

Justin settled the seam of her sex against the hard ridge of his erection and ground into her.

She gasped and arched her back, exposing her throat.

A primal growl built in his chest. He pressed his lips to her neck, alternately licking and nipping her jugular.

Grace wound her arms around his neck and rode his cock with growing urgency. Soft mewls filled the cool air, and it took her a moment to realize the sounds were hers.

He lifted her off of him and, despite her protests, spun her to face the wall. The button on her jeans made a soft pop when he yanked it free. Zipper teeth chattered their way down. He shoved her pants to her ankles. “Step out.”

She did and, spreading her legs, arched into him. Her body came alive under his touch. Breasts heavy and core aching, she wanted him inside her. She craved him, needed him to stretch her and fill her and take her over the edge again and again.

The sound of a zipper was followed immediately by crinkling foil. Seconds later, the weighted heat of his cock settled against her ass even as unseen fingers slid over her hips and down.

“Sweet hell,” he whispered into her ear as he worked his way into her folds. “You’re so damn wet, baby.”

“Please.”

“I thought you wanted me to be the one to beg,” he teased, tracing his tongue along the shell of her ear.

A desperate, choked laugh escaped her as she slapped her hands on the walls. “No more playing. Finish me, Justin. Please.”

Her slick arousal coated his fingers as he dragged them forward to the small, firm knot of her clitoris. Several short, swift flicks and she came apart in his arms.

Her hips bucked wildly, her breath came hard. Her eyelids slid closed. A deep keening escaped her. She shuddered, pulling a hand off the wall to clutch his and hold him closer as she rode out the crest of adrenaline and raw lust pounding through her veins, thick and viral. He scraped his teeth along the nape of her neck, sending her careening over the edge into a second brutally hard orgasm.

Nothing made sense for several minutes—not the thundering of her heart, not the sound of blood rushing through her ears, not the way her legs had gone to rubber. She was lost in space and time, nothing more than a product of her various pieces.

She was full and heavy, yet vacant, wanting.

She wanted him buried inside her, wanted him to drive her to abandon, wanted him to use her body well.

The images those thoughts conjured took her even higher, as did the knowledge it would all come to pass. She wouldn’t have to fantasize about Justin Maxwell in the dark. Not tonight. Tonight the man was manifest, the fantasy a reality—and the reality was superseding anything her mind had dreamed up, whether in the light of day or the darkest reaches of night.

He calmed her, soothing her with words and fingertips and firm lips on sweaty skin. “That’s one and two. Now turn around.”

Her legs refused to cooperate. Hot hands closed on her bare hips and spun her, pressing her bare ass against the cold wall. “Justin,” she said on a breath.

“Hold on, baby.” His words were strained, heavy, full of his own sensual need. Grabbing her behind the thighs, he lifted her and pinned her to the wall with his weight.

The heat of his arousal branded her, left her gasping as she reached for him.

“Arms around my neck.”

She complied.

He lifted her higher, tilting her hips to receive him.

The broad head of his cock breached her outer folds and she whimpered. “More, damn it!”

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Do it,” she pleaded.

With one hard thrust, he seated himself to the hilt. His mouth crushed hers, swallowing her shout.

She’d known he was large, but being impaled by him was a whole different thing. Stretched farther than she would have guessed possible, pain and pleasure hovered together, shining bright and dark on ecstasy’s horizon. Then he began to move with slow thrusts. Aching, heavy heat burned in her pelvis. Using his neck as a fulcrum, she pulled herself forward and nipped his ear. “Harder.”

His groan vibrated through his chest and into hers.

She shivered.

Fingers dug into her hips. “Hold on, sweetheart.”

He pistoned in and out of her with sheer strength, using his hands to draw her off his shaft before driving home over and over.

Sweat slicked her hold on him as she tried to pull herself onto him even harder. “Please,” she said on a moan. “I need...I need...”

His hand slipped between them and, as she rode him, found her clit. First contact nearly threw her off his length when she jerked, but he tightened his grip on her hip and set up a rapid thrumming in time with his thrusts.

In seconds, Grace felt the release roaring toward her. “Don’t stop!”

“I’m with you, baby,” he said on heavy breaths.

The spasm of orgasm started in her pelvis and spread. Then she came apart in his arms. Head thrown back, she took everything he had to give. Sensation overrode the last of her common sense and unintelligible sounds rose from her throat.

He sank his teeth into the soft spot between her shoulder and neck, and she reveled in the raw, animalistic behavior. Justin’s entire body tensed and he groaned loudly as his thrusts became erratic. The pulse of his orgasm rolled through her. She reveled in the power of it, the power she wielded to make this beautiful man lose his control here, now.

The breath sawed in and out of her lungs even as her muscles went limp.

He pulled her free and let her slide down the wall until her feet hit the floor.

When her knees buckled, he caught her with his whole body, pressing her into the wall.

“Sorry,” he murmured into her hair.

“You’re apologizing?” Her gasp was lost to laughter.

“For mashing you against the wall. Nothing seems to be working right at the moment.”

Fighting to regain her footing, she stood and wrapped her arms around him. His jacket smelled faintly of his cologne, and she took a moment to close her eyes and bury her face in that scent before sweeping up her pants.

“Drop the jeans, Ms. Cooper. I’m far from done with you. Far, far from done.”

Grace’s belly fluttered in anticipation. Sliding her arms around his waist, she gave in to the urge to snuggle in closer.

He held her tight, whispering against the crown of her head his intent to give her pleasure until the sun rose.

The raw power he wielded over her pushed her closer to the edge of falling for Justin Maxwell—far closer than was safe. But there was time enough to distance herself. Tomorrow she’d let him down easy. Tomorrow...

4

HIS ASS AND ONE FOOT were cold. That was the first thought that went through Justin’s sleep-addled mind before the click of the room’s air conditioner further invaded his consciousness. Air-conditioning is clicking instead of whining? That meant he wasn’t at home. One eye squinted open, fighting to focus on the alarm clock’s huge red numbers—a few minutes after eight in the morning.

The mattress moved as his bed partner rolled over and stole more covers. He grunted softly as he pushed up to his elbows and turned to look at the tangle of curls spread across the pillow. In the dim light, her hair appeared dark. He knew that wasn’t true. Grace’s hair was actually almost brown until she stepped into the sun. Then it blazed like flame. A truer, deeper red than he’d ever seen anywhere else.

She was stretched out on her side of the king bed, her face sporting wrinkles from the pillowcase. Eyes acclimated to the dim light, he tucked a strand of her hair behind one ear and simply watched her. She was beautiful. Those cat-green eyes had expressed passion, reverence, humor and longing as they’d taken each other every way they could. Then, somewhere near six this morning, they’d fallen asleep tangled together.

He’d never had a night even similar to last night. Considering the remarkable quality of the woman at his side, he wondered if he’d ever have another. He had a real connection with Grace, something that transcended the physical. He didn’t want to lose that, but he wasn’t sure how to keep it, either.

No doubt they’d be going in different directions now that they’d both graduated. His focus was public service and hers was...what? She hadn’t said. The money was in private practice. But even if that’s what she pursued, it didn’t necessarily mean she had to leave Seattle. She could find something here or at least nearby, and they could really see where this thing went.

Yes, he’d agreed last night was a one-time thing. And she’d made it abundantly clear she didn’t expect anything more. But making more of this thing between them was the only way he could guarantee she didn’t disappear. He’d spent years watching her, had finally found his way to her through dumb luck, and damn if he was willing to let her walk away because of the universe’s poor timing.

He dragged a hand down his face and took a deep breath. They had cheered adulthood last night. Today it seemed more burden than boon.

“What’s with the somber look?” Her voice, husky from sleep, made his breath catch.

“Just thinking.”

“No thinking before coffee.” She rolled closer to him and snuggled into his chest, slipping an arm around his waist. “It’s a cosmic rule.”

He stroked a hand down her hair. “Cover hogs don’t get to make rules.”

“I’m not a cover hog. I only took what I needed.”

“That apparently equals everything.”

She sniffed. “A girl has to have her standards.” Her lips curled against his bare skin.

“Good to know.” Rolling over, he pulled her with him so she draped across his upper body. He was aware that he was holding her a little too tight, but he couldn’t seem to let go.

“Justin?”

“No, no. It’s fine. My most important body parts were only at risk of frostbite for a short while. They’ll be fine.”

She chuckled and propped herself up to meet his gaze. “If I wasn’t sure it would lead to the crossroads of Wicked Lane and Wanton Drive, I’d offer to warm your most important body parts up.”

His cock swelled. “Yeah?” He shifted against her hip. “I could get behind that.”

She snorted. “You did.”

The ribald reference to their lovemaking made him laugh. “You’re a vixen, woman. A true vixen.”

“Yeah. Sports Illustrated keeps calling for a cover shoot, but I’m just too busy being a bookworm. It’s so much sexier.”

“On you? Hell, yes, it is.” Leaning in, he took her mouth in a swift kiss. “Your mind is definitely sexy. I loved watching you latch on to a concept or theory in class. Your brows would draw down and you’d get this look, as if you were so deep in your own thoughts you had no idea what was going on around you. I never knew what you’d say, whether you’d agree with me or disagree and defend your position so well I’d have to agree with you. I knew I’d never have to worry you’d play me false.” He traced a finger down her neck and between her breasts, circling the lower side of one and watching the nipple pucker. “And for the record? Your body isn’t half-bad, either.” He dragged his gaze first to her mouth and then to her eyes. “Last night was awesome, Grace.”

She shivered. “I was sitting here trying to come up with the smoothest way to say the same thing. But I can work with awesome.”

Justin reached for a condom before he rolled over, blood flooding to his groin. “I’m headed down Wicked Lane. You take Wanton Drive. We’ll meet at the crossroads.”

Her lazy smile made his testicles draw up tight. “Wanton works for me.”

He slid into her slowly, pausing when she winced. “Okay?”

“Just a little sore. That was a lot of mattress gymnastics for a girl who’s gone more than two years between meets.”

Cupping her face, he kissed her slowly before asking, “How long has it been?”

She closed her eyes, refusing to meet his gaze.

“Grace?”

“My master’s program.”

“You haven’t been to bed with anyone in—”

“Twenty-seven months, Justin.” She finally looked at him, her eyes hauntingly beautiful. “So, yeah. I’m a little sore.” She slowly lifted her hips, drawing him in. “Doesn’t mean I want you to stop.”

So he didn’t.

* * *

STEPPING OUT OF the shower an hour later, he heard his cell phone ringing. “Ignore it,” he called out.

“I did.”

He grinned and shook his head. Being with her was so easy, so comfortable. Part of him wanted to revel at how easy it was to like her as much as he did. Another part wanted to simply gather up his belongings and leave, ensure nothing could come of the spark harbored in his heart. The longer they were together, the more that spark was coaxed to burn. It scared him more than a little.

This time in his life was supposed to be about finding his professional footing, making a contribution to the Second Chances program and beginning to carve out respect from his peers. None of that included a woman, particularly a woman whose immediate future didn’t align with his own.

He’d worked so hard to become the man he was now, not the kid in the too-small clothes, the one always looking to make money any way he had to in order to put food on the table. When his focus had shifted, when he’d begun to think in broader terms than street smarts and day-to-day survival, he’d found his purpose. God knew he hadn’t been abstinent in the years that followed. He was no choirboy. But at the same time, a woman hadn’t figured into his long-term plans.

And yet, he was fiercely attracted to Grace. She hadn’t quite closed the door on a repeat of last night. Maybe he could see her again before they ultimately went their separate ways. And if their next time had to be their last time, he’d do his best to snuff out this burning desire he harbored for her, had harbored for her for the past three years.

Hands on the counter, he locked his elbows and leaned forward, head hanging loosely. He wanted Grace. Badly. Craved her, even. But the reality of their situation didn’t change for his wanting her. She had a life to start and so did he. Their paths probably wouldn’t cross again. His only chance was to press her for just a bit more of her now, while it was an option.

He finished brushing his teeth and stepped into the room, hand on the towel, and froze. Grace had opened the curtains just enough to peer out. Sunlight bathed her in a nimbus of brilliant gold, outlining every curve on her luscious, bare body.

Shifting, she offered him a partial profile and a wide smile. “Sun’s out today.”

“Good.” The word was little more than a croak.

Her brows drew together. “Hey. Are you okay?” She started toward him and stopped when he backed up.

Justin couldn’t think of anything beyond the woman. Heart racing and palms sweating, he shook his head. “I’m fine.”

“You seem a little shaky.”

“I am a little shaky.”

“Low blood sugar?”

“Yeah.” Easy answer. A lie, which didn’t sit well with him, but he didn’t correct himself, didn’t offer the truth.

How could he even be thinking of getting emotionally involved? She’d said she wasn’t staying in Seattle long, but even if she was only here for another couple of weeks, they could see each other again He wanted to find out what might be between them, given time and a little nurturing, a little emotional excavation. “So...what’s your next step, Grace?”

“What do you mean?”

“In life. You’ve graduated. What now?”

“You’re standing there in a towel, I’m naked, and you want to talk career planning?” Her laughter rang out in the bedroom. “You’re in a strange mood, Dr. Maxwell.”

A twinge in his chest had him rubbing his left pec. “Admittedly strange.”

“Okay, then. I have an eighty-hour job-shadowing practicum I have to complete. The college let me walk with my class at graduation, but I still have to get a passing grade on the practicum before I can implement my nefarious psychological practices on unsuspecting victims.” She raised her arms, let her head fall back and loosed an evil cackle before bursting into laughter again. Dropping her arms, she shrugged. “So eighty hours of blah, blah, blah before I officially become a psychologist.”

His chest tightened around the twinge. “Yeah? Are you staying local?”

She nodded. “Personal issues regarding my housing situation meant I had to stay close by.”

“Want to have lunch, then, say, Wednesday? We can meet somewhere midpoint for both of us.” Postcoital meal arrangements might be backward, but it would assuage the guilt needling him for the screw-and-run he’d momentarily considered. This? This he could live with. Barely.

He’d take it.

A faint blush stole across her cheeks. “Lunch? That’d be great.” The words were right, but the hesitation in them wasn’t.

“Are you allergic to lunch?” he asked as casually as he could.

“No.” She rubbed her throat, her free arm wrapping around her torso. “It’s just...you remember I’m leaving right?”

“It’s not a marriage proposal, Grace. It’s just lunch.”

She smiled up at him. “Okay, then. Downtown area would be easiest for me.”

He exhaled slowly. “Excellent.” They weren’t through with each other.

Not by a long shot.

* * *

GRACE WATCHED JUSTIN’S shoulders sag and couldn’t be sure if it was relief or disappointment. The former buoyed her while the latter stung like hell.

It shouldn’t matter. She just had to get through the next two weeks and then she was following Meg to Baltimore where she’d try to find a job. It was as far as Grace could conceivably get from Seattle, her past and her mother.

Still, watching Justin’s reaction was very much like holding on to a life vest in twenty-foot seas. A second to catch your breath before getting driven under again.

He squared his shoulders and crossed the room. “How about Tuesday? I don’t want to wait until Wednesday.” Cupping her face, he leaned in. “Say yes.” The smell of minty toothpaste on his breath combined with the scent of the hotel’s soap and shampoo on his skin to form a clean smell she knew she’d never forget.

“Yes.”

“And dinner with me Wednesday.”

“Yes.” The answer was out of her mouth before she truly considered the implications.

“Good.” He closed the distance and kissed her, lips soft yet firm as he laid claim to her mouth, owning the moment, owning her, in a way that disconcerted her. No one had ever made the effort to get to know her, to see her, to invest in her. Then Justin happened.

It was only supposed to have been one night. Not a date. No expectations. Nothing more. But he’d been so sincere in his interest, so transparent in his desire for her. What woman wouldn’t want to enjoy that for just a bit longer?

He’d caused her to reconsider everything she’d thought would be true today. And she wasn’t sure how to revise her expectations because he’d left them open-ended. Living with a “maybe” where Justin was concerned was dangerous. She needed concretes, absolutes, not maybes and what-ifs. She could manage this...this...fling if she kept it in perspective. Because while his invitations certainly changed the rules they’d established, the outcome was pre-determined and non-negotiable.

She wouldn’t allow him to derail her goals, professional or personal, no matter how long she’d wanted just what he offered right now. She’d worked too hard, made too many sacrifices to let it fall apart now because of a man...no matter how much she might want said man. With autonomy would come more opportunity, but as long as she was in Seattle? She’d always be Cindy Cooper’s daughter, the runt who couldn’t get out of the woman’s way fast enough. Grace refused to live in that emotionally putrid place anymore.

She wouldn’t allow one night with Justin to potentially change everything she thought about her career, her future, herself.

Feeling her stiffen in his embrace, he broke the kiss and, still cradling her jaw in those large, capable hands, rested his forehead against hers. “Stop overthinking things.”

“Stop reading my face.”

“Stop projecting every thought you’re having.”

She rolled her forehead back and forth against his.

“Seriously, Grace. Stop borrowing tomorrow’s trouble. Today has plenty of its own.”

“Stop sounding like a fortune cookie.” She paused and rolled her eyes up to meet his stare. “Unless you’ve got the winning lottery numbers printed on your body. Then, by all means, proceed.”

He grinned, the tiny crow’s feet at the corner of his eyes apparent this close. “You can check it out if you want.”

“Cute. We’ve got to get out of here in the next half hour.”

“Let’s hurry and get breakfast.”

“Sure.” She waited. He didn’t move. “You have to let go of my face first.”

Quick and hard, he took her mouth, backing her up against the wall as he kissed her.

When he shifted and let his lips trail down her neck to nip her collarbone, she shivered. “You have a real thing for walls.”

“Not until you, I didn’t.”

The hummingbirds in her belly took up acrobatic maneuvers, successfully avoiding her pride’s attempts to squash them. She couldn’t help it if he kept saying all the right things. Every woman wanted to know she was wanted.

Wanted.

The idea she could be part of something bigger than just herself, that she could spend the next two weeks with someone, with him, was the greatest temptation she’d faced in, well, ever. She’d spent a lifetime alone, craving the things her friends took for granted—parents, extended family, the dreaded Christmas sweater, conflict between Aunt Jane and Uncle John. College had alleviated some of that when she’d met her three closest friends, but there was still a longing for family she didn’t dare look at too closely. It would simply remind her that her past hadn’t taught her anything about what it was to love or be loved. That was a reminder she neither wanted nor needed.

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