That One Night: A Pucking Around Prequel Novella (20)

Unluckily for my sweet Taurus, I’m a double Cancer. I know when to draw a line in the sand, and it doesn’t get crossed. It’s time to retreat back in my shell. I might be crushed on the inside, but I won’t let him see it. Whatever this is between us, he’s not going to be the one to walk away first. It has to be me.

But I still have four hours.

I wrap myself around him, desperate to stay lost in his scent. “Please—”

“What do you need, baby?” he pants, our warm breath passing between our open mouths. “I’ll give you anything. Say it, and it’s yours.”

I whimper. “Just make it all stop. Be here with me.”

“I’m right here,” he says. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Be with me. Give yourself to me. Take everything.” I feel like I can’t catch my breath. This is taking all the energy I have left. My heart is breaking.

“Okay, baby,” he soothes. “Okay. Here, turn around.”

I’m trembling in his arms as he turns me. He takes my hands and lifts them, pressing them palm-flat against the window. He’s pressed in right behind me, his hands trailing down my arms, down my ribs, to settle at my hips. He kisses a line across my shoulder before I feel his voice in my ear.

“Look out the window, baby girl. Keep your eyes open. Seattle is our place. Here in this room, in this city, nothing can keep us apart.”

I let his words wash over me, warming me from the inside out as I look out at the blinking city lights.

His hands are roving, warming me up. “You’re mine. My dream girl. My perfect mystery. Say it.”

My hands are cold against the glass. It grounds me. I’m at a crossroads in life and in fact. The heat of his arms and the cold of the city. One door closes and another opens.

“Say it,” he growls, his cock notching at my entrance.

I tip my head back with a desperate sigh, my eyes locked on the shape of the Seattle skyline and I sink my hips back against him, burying him inside me to the hilt. “I’m yours. Only yours. Nothing can keep us apart.”





9





I wake to the sound of my phone ringing. The ringtone is Tears for Fears. Caleb. Why is he calling so early? He must have forgotten about the time change. I’ll call the asshole back later. I snatch blindly for the phone, clicking the side to dismiss the call. I don’t want the sound to wake…fuck.

She still hasn’t told me her damn name. Well, I’m done playing games. I’m breaking her this morning. I swear to god, this girl is not getting away from me.

I roll over, ready to pull her sweet body tight against my morning wood. Hopefully we have time for a quickie before our alarms go off at 7:00AM.

God, I can’t remember the last time I had so much sex. And each time was more earth-shattering than the last. That last time, we fucked against the window. She screamed, clenching me so goddamn tight, and I came so hard I saw white spots.

Never in my life have I seen a girl literally dripping with my cum. Now I get why some guys have a breeding kink. I wasn’t lying before. If this was Vegas, I’d be ringing down to the front desk asking for an Elvis minister.

We rinsed off in the shower, both of us standing sex drunk under the spray. Then we crashed in the bed. I think I was asleep before my head hit the pillow.

No way in hell am I letting her slip away. I’ll be riding with her to the airport. Heck, I’ll try to pull the I’m-a-famous-NHL-player card to get through security with her. If I’ve only got Seattle, I’m gonna milk every last second. I’m not giving up until the gate agent closes that door.

And I mean to play dirty. Anything to win. It’s not like there’s a penalty box she can shove me in. The first four words out of my mouth are about to be ‘My name’s Jake Compton.’

I reach for her, my hand snatching at the cold sheets. She’s not in the bed. My eyes dart open, and I wince. Weak morning light streams in through the windows. I’m instantly on edge.

Something’s wrong.

I roll over, twisting up in the sheets as I scramble for my phone. I tap the screen and my heart drops out of my chest. 8:37AM.

“No! No, no, no—fuck!”

She turned off my phone alarm!

I stumble my naked ass out of the bed, my gaze darting around the hotel suite. I already know what I’m going to find. Her suitcase is gone. Her discarded heels, her sexy black jumpsuit—gone. Her kindle was on the beanbag thing and there was a small pile of jewelry on the side table and an extra phone cord. All gone.

She’s gone. Mystery Girl is gone.

She didn’t even wake me to say goodbye. My heart cracks open in my chest.

I stumble across the suite into the bathroom and turn on the light. My breath catches as I see that she’s left something on the counter. Oh god, it’s a note. It’s going to be her name and phone number!

I snatch up the piece of hotel stationary, but a quick scan has my heart sinking. No hint of a digit. No name. I lean against the sink and read:

Dear Mystery Boy,





Thanks for last night. You have no idea what it meant to me to share this perfect moment. I’m sorry I’m leaving without saying a proper goodbye, but it’s better this way. As I packed, I thought of a poem by Rumi: