Page 65 of 1001 Dark Nights: Bundle Forty-Two

My words, the taunt erases any tinge of doubt in his stare,and he invades my space, crowding me against the half-open door. Does herealize I lured him this close? That he’s exactly where Iwant him? I’ve been around athletes, directors, actors,musicians, powerful men a lot. Men who like to chase and catch. Big,intimidating, commanding—Naz is no different, yet he’s like no man I’ve beenwith before. He’s not even like the Naz I knewbefore.

“I know exactly what I want to do with you.” He closes inuntil his scent and heat curl around me. “You should be asking yourself if youcan take it.”

My mind and my eyes drift inevitably to the itin question, the lengthened steel between his legs, an obvious erection withinseconds of being in my presence. A dirty reply waits on my tongue, but when Ilook back up at him, my breath stalls at his expression. Yes, a devouringhunger roils behind his eyes, and his huge hands curl into fists at his sideslike he’s two seconds from snatching me up, bending me over the nearest rail,and fucking me senseless. That’s all expected, butthere’s something else. Something tender that I’m not sure what to dowith. It has no place in a two-week fling, which is all this can be.

I stare up at him, blinking in bothconfusion and understanding. I’m a romantic at heart.I wouldn’t keep trying every dating app known to man if I didn’t believe inlove—didn’t believe there was someone out there for everyone. But even I,horny, heart-y romantic that I am, never imagined a man orchestrating asituation like this just to see me again. And the longer we stand here staringat each other, saying so much without words, the higher the stakes of thisthing seem to climb.

“I want to be very clear,” I tell him, holding the heatedstare that hasn’t left my face. “I’m only here for…”

I should say I’m here for the food, the good times, the freetrip through the Mediterranean, and to make new famous friends. Hell, I couldeven say I’m only here for the dick. I could say all of that, but it’s not true.At least, it’s not the whole truth. I don’t completely understand the magneticpull that sprang up between us when we met all those years ago—don’t fullygrasp how it endured. I do know it’s stronger than anything I’ve felt withanyone else. It’s sharp and deep and quick, like a knife tossed to the bottomof a barrel. It’s real, and in a sea ofcatfish profiles, dead-end dates, and unsolicited dick pics…something realfeels like a miracle.

“You were saying you’re here for…?” He takes another stepforward, urging me farther back. I don’t speak but bite my lip and glance downat the floor between us. I’ve always got something to say, am ready with a comeback, but there are no words for the way he’sinvaded my thoughts since the fashion show. All the dreams, fantasies this manhas spurred are secrets, and I can’t bring myself to say any of them out loud.

“How about if I tell you why I brought you here?” he asks,taking another step that backs me over the threshold and into my cabin.

“That’s a good idea,” I whisper, never breaking our stare.“Tell me.”

“Because,” he says, kicking thedoor closed. His wide, warm palm cups my face, and his long fingers brush thenape of my neck. “I can’t stop thinking about you.”

“You mean since the fashion show?”

He bends until our foreheads touch, his insanely long lashesflicking up to show me the full measure of heat in his eyes. “Longer.”

He tips my chin back with his thumb and lowers his head,hovering over my lips. “I’m glad you came.”

Some invisible thread pulls me up on my toes, straining toclose the tiny bit of space left between our lips. Mere millimeters from hismouth, I say, “So am I.”

He grips my nape and slams our lips together. This is nouncertain kiss or tentative touch. Naz plunges his tongue into my mouth,licking at me with possessive sweeps, sliding his hands over my shoulders andmolding my back with his palms. His hands pause at the cinch of my waist, atthe swell of my hips.

“I want to touch your ass,” he says, his voice low andhoarse against my lips.

Breathless at his words, at the thought, I laugh. “Do youalways ask first?”

“It feels like I should…with you.” His hands tighten at mywaist. “It’s like…I’ve known you a long time, but not really. And I’ve kissedyou before, touched you before, but it feels like that was a different world.Like maybe we’re different people now.”

“The person I am now wants you to touch my ass.” I slide myhand down his stomach, over the taut muscles evident even through his shirtuntil I reach the dense curve of his butt. “As long as you don’t expect me toask before I touch yours.”

His lids hang heavy over a hunter’s gaze. If I’m his prey,he may not realize it, but he’s caught me. Any reservation and every hesitationI had about coming and being with him, if only for two weeks, melts beneath thesteam rising between us. He takes my ass in two big handfuls and squeezes,maintaining eye contact. The tight squeeze sends a jolt straight to my core,and I slide my hands up over mountainous shoulders, linking my hands behind hisneck. I’ve never been a shy bitch. Neevahonce joked that raunchy was my middle name and bold was my first. I may not beable to keep him, but I can have him for now—can temporarily block out the onehuge reason this can’t go beyond two weeks on the high seas.

“I’ve thought about you, too,” I confess, the words so lowI’m not sure at first I said them aloud.

“What did you think about?”

I trail my fingers back down his chest and place my handsover his where they still rest on my ass. “I was thinking about these hands.These fingers.”

“What about them?” His eyes darken, and the incongruouslylong lashes lower to half-mast.

I tip up on my toes and draw hisear down so I can reach. “How they’d feel inside me.”

I lower to my feet, pull back towatch his response. One corner of his wide, full mouth quirks up, but there’sno laughter in his eyes. Only lust and need.

“You came all this way,” he murmurs, gliding his hands overthe curve of my ass to the hem of the loose, short dress I traveled in. “Shamefor you not to find out.”

“I agree. It would be—”

My words die a quick death on a harsh breath when the blunttips of his fingers skim the skin inside my thighs. He charts a steady pathtoward my panties and, without hesitation, pushes them aside and strokes onerough finger over my clit.

“Jesus,” I gasp, closing my eyes and dropping my head to hischest.