Wild Attraction (Wild 0.5)(5)
Author: Emma Hart

I take the card from his hand and look at it. Room card.

“This is the key to room 501 at the hotel across the road.” He runs his fingers along my jaw and tilts my chin up. “Meet me there in ten minutes.”

“I get the feeling this isn’t your first rodeo.” I raise an eyebrow.

“No, it isn’t, but it isn’t yours either, is it?”

“Touché.”

He acknowledges it with a tilt of his head. “Ten minutes. Room 501.”

With those words he steps back and disappears. I draw in a long, needing breath and tuck the card into my purse. Somehow it hasn’t got tangled in our clinches, and I’m wishing I packed a spare pair of panties.

The ones I’m wearing are f**ked.

His words are still echoing in my mind when my wrist is grabbed and I’m turned around. “I thought you were going home.”

I stare at Jackson. “I was. I got waylaid.”

He glances at my purse. “Looks like you’re not getting back on track any time soon.”

“We all need a little detour when the mood strikes us.”

“It’s not the only mood striking you tonight.”

“Do you have a problem, Jackson? Because you’re sure f**king dancing around something.”

“You don’t know the guy,” he says, pulling me over to the bar.

I yank my hand from his grip and stare at him. “All the better for me, then. Is that it or can I go now?”

He stares at me for a long moment. His jaw tics but he doesn’t say anything, so I turn.

“Go out with me.”

“Excuse me?” I look over my shoulder, my eyes wide.

“Go on a date with me.”

I wanted to f**k you, not date you, you moron.

“I’m about to go and sleep with another guy and you’re asking me on a date?”

His jaw clenches.

“You’re a fool,” I say before walking away.

I push my way downstairs and out of the club. Go on a f**king date indeed.

Dates aren’t my thing. In fact, they’re as far f**king from it as they could be. Dates are full of lovey, mushy get-to-know you bullshit. They build a relationship on the person inside, on emotion, and for me, on potential addiction.

The more I know about a person the more likely I’ll get addicted to them.

Take my ex-fuck buddy. All I knew about Ross was his name, his number, his address, and what size condom he needed.

That’s all you need to know about a person.

And tonight I don’t even need that. Hell, I don’t even need Mr. Tall, Dark, Handsome and Oh So British’s number.

I just need the hotel room and his c**k and we’ll be right on track.

I push the thoughts of dating and addictions to the back of my mind. That’s the purpose of the one night stands, after all. To avoid the possibility of addiction. And the man waiting for me, the dangerous love ‘em and leave ‘em man, is the perfect guy to scratch my clit’s itch.

I walk into the lobby of the hotel like I’m meant to be here and head for the elevators. Once inside, I locate the floor room 501 is on and press the corresponding floor button. I run my fingers through my hair and wipe a small black smudge from my eye using the mirrored walls, and the doors open with a swooshing sound.

I step out and make my way down the hall. The door to room 501 opens and my British stranger fills the doorway.

“Good timing,” I say, looking into his eyes.

His dark brown eyes.

They’re soft like melted chocolate, but the glint is dangerous. It’s almost black. It’s tempting, hiding something that’s begging to be uncovered.

“Let’s just say I saw you coming.” He smirks.

I raise an eyebrow but don’t press it. “Are you inviting me in or are you keeping me in the hall?”

He opens the door and steps to the side. I walk inside with his eyes on me. Hotter than in the club, he runs his gaze over my body and doesn’t stop even when I turn. I throw my purse on the sofa and wait for him to make the move.

I’m not used to waiting. I’m not used to standing back while someone else takes control, because it’s never usually about the guy. The one nights are about me and me getting what I need.

But this… I know instinctively that pressing him won’t work.

His commanding presence, his dark eyes, his smirking lips… The steadiness of his stride as he approaches me… These things tell me he’s a man who’s used to being in control.

A man who craves control.

And despite me usually being in control in bed, I crave the opposite.

I crave to be controlled.

I crave to let go entirely, to surrender to someone else’s desires. My life is constant control. It’s a constant fight against the inevitable. I spend every day toeing the line to protect myself, to keep the control I so desperately want to give up.

And he… He could give me that.

I can feel it.

I tilt my face up to meet his gaze. His eyes flare with heat and I step into him without thinking. He has a pull on me, a sexual pull I can’t fight.

Shit, I want to see what else this man can do to me.

He lowers his face to mine. His lips crash into mine with fervor, and he pulls me into him. His hands slide down my back and over my ass once more, holding me closer.

I can feel every ridge of his body. My hands are pressed against his stomach, my thumbs close to the buttons of his shirt. I can feel the heat through the thin material and I want to touch him without it. So I move my hands and undo the buttons, working my way down, brushing his hard c**k with the backs of my fingers when I’m done.

I splay my fingers across his toned stomach and he groans low. He tugs at the hem of my dress, walking me backward. His fingers work my dress until it’s around my waist and he drops his hands once more, cups my thighs, and lifts me.

My legs wrap around his waist and he carries me into another room. There, he sets me down, making sure my core rubs his c**k as he does. I gasp, and he breaks the kiss and yanks the dress over my head. It falls to the floor as he looks my body over, his chest rising and falling.

Goosebumps erupt across my skin as his eyes linger on my chest. With a shrug, his shirt falls away, exposing broad shoulders and shapely biceps. His lips purse as he exhales slowly and before I can think, his hands are in my hair and his lips are descending on mine once more.

His kiss is hot and hurried, his tongue desperately sweeping my mouth and tasting every inch of me. My tongue flicks against his as he tugs my hair, pushing me down against the bed.