Lock and Key Page 2

  It was nice to pretend I was just an ordinary woman dancing to “You and Tequila” with a sexy somebody at a bar off an interstate in South Dakota.

  But I knew better.

  I used to let go and have fun. Now, not so much. Fifteen years ago I had stopped harboring expectations for too much more than pleasantness in my life. I had learned the bitter lesson that low expectations were the best way to go. Miller’s large hand slid up my back and encircled my shoulders. He led us off the dance floor and back to the bar where our drinks waited for us.

  The place was crowded now and much noisier. We leaned against the bar and stood closer together than before out of necessity. His one hand slid over my left hip and secured me close to him in the pressing crowd.

  “How did you like Ohio?” he asked.

  I still chewed on the sensation of his hand gripping me. Crap, what did he just say?

  “Excuse me?”

  “Your Harley tee.” Miller gestured to my back. “It’s from Ohio. That where you’re from?”

  My lips curled into a slight smile. He didn’t suspect I was a native.

  “I worked at the store in Dayton for a couple of years a while back.”

  I had been the general manager, actually, at that store and several others.

  “No shit?” His eyes widened. “Careful, you’re turning into my dream girl, babe. You know everything about bikes?” He took a drink.

  Dream girl? Wouldn’t that be swell?

  At the age of 42 I had enough baggage to charter my own cargo plane.

  I laughed. He gave me a quizzical look.

  “Not everything,” I said. “But let’s see.”

  My eyes slid down his long legs slowly and obviously and rested on his boots. He grinned as he swallowed his vodka, enjoying the stroke of my deliberate attention.

  “I know your boots aren’t the real deal,” I said and took in another mouthful of whiskey.

  He nodded. “Not this pair, but I’ve got several others at home came straight from the source.”

  I let out a laugh. “Going casual tonight then?”

  “Hmm.” He crunched on another ice cube. “Now I wish I had put them on, to suit the occasion.”

  “What occasion is that?”

  “Meeting you, Grace,” he said. The firm, crisp way he said my name made my insides tighten. His eyes remained on mine as he polished off his vodka then licked the excess off his lips. I wondered what those full lips would feel like pressed against mine. The need to know suddenly overwhelmed me.

  “So are you from around here, ‘cause I know I haven’t seen you before?” he asked.

  “You’d remember me?”

  “Absolutely,” he said. The edges of his lips curled into a grin that made my stomach dip.

  “I’m from… around,” I said and made a twirling gesture with my fingers. “Plenty of around.”

  “Like where?”

  “Ohio, Wisconsin, Texas, Colorado, Washington state.”

  “That’s plenty of around, Grace. You like to keep moving,” he said. “Or maybe you need to?”

  I turned to face the dance floor in order to escape his penetrating gaze.

  “Change keeps the blood flowing, didn’t you say? It’s good for the soul, too.”

  If I had any of my soul left anymore.

  His eyes tightened. Here come the goddamn twenty questions now.

  “You got any family?”

  Bingo.

  “A sister.”

  “Husband, kids?”

  “She does, yes.” I smirked at him.

  “Not your sister, Grace. You.”

  “Me? No,” I said a bit too sharply. “No husband, no boyfriend either, if that’s going to be your next question.”

  He lowered his head. “You off to somewhere new?”

  I shrugged my shoulders at him.

  “Not telling, huh?” He turned back around and settled his elbows on the bar. “Guess we all have our dark secrets,” he muttered and polished off his vodka.

  My ears pounded with the booming vibe of a Florida Georgia Line song. I swallowed hard. “I guess it’s country music night tonight?” I asked.

  “Good deduction,” he said, a dark eyebrow lifted. “You in the mood for something else?”

  I grinned. “A little Santana would be a good thing,” I said.

  “Great band.” He grinned back at me.

  Oh, I liked his grin. It was hard won, I suspected, yet worth it. “One of the best,” I said.

  He gestured to my almost, but not quite empty glass. “You want another?”

  “No thanks. I’m good.”

  “Mind if I try?” he asked.

  “Go ahead.” I pushed the glass towards him.

  The sight of his lips clinging to my glass and the movement of his long throat as he drank in my whiskey held me spellbound as if I were witnessing some sort of supernatural phenomenon.

  “Single malt?” he asked, his eyes on me. His lips puckered for a moment as he set it down.

  “Only way to go,” I said.

  On some sort of insane reflex, my fingers reached out to wipe a glistening amber drop that clung to the corner of his beautiful mouth. His hand caught mine and held it fast to the side of his face while his other hand wrapped around my neck and pulled me close.

  “Only way,” he breathed.

  Any trace of oxygen was sucked right out of me as his warm lips touched mine and gently explored. Suddenly his tongue swept over my lower lip, and I tasted my beloved whiskey on his slickness. A groan choked in the back of my throat. The heat of his hand at the side of my face made my insides pulsate almost painfully.

  I desperately wanted this kiss from him.

  I opened my lips to welcome him in. The next moment our mouths assaulted each other, and our tongues devoured deeply. Somehow I didn’t care that I was in a public bar where plenty of people pushed around us, music boomed, laughter and chatter droned in my ear.

  All I thought or cared about was this demanding, hungry kiss.

  My hands gripped his biceps, and his hard muscles flexed under the soft material of his hoodie. He pulled me into his chest, and his scent flooded my senses once more. This time I wanted to drink it in; let it entwine around me and hug me close. My nipples hardened against the lacy fabric of my bra.

  Miller’s teeth nipped my lower lip, and he hissed in air… or was that me? I dug my fingers into his forearms and crashed back down to earth.

  “I’m hot,” I said

  “Yeah, you certainly are.” He kissed the edge of my jaw, while his finger traced my collarbone.

  Waves of dizziness surged through me. “No, no, Miller, I mean, I’m hot, I can’t brea…”

  His eyes narrowed over me. His hand wrapped around my neck and his thumb stroked my cheek.

  “Let me get you some water.” Miller turned to find the bartender and smirked. “I tend to have that effect on women.”

  “Oh, shut up!” I pinched his arm. He laughed. His hand went to my waist and squeezed.

  That particular heat flooded my female parts, those parts I thought I had put out of commission some time ago. Years of underwhelming responses to a variety of underwhelming men had dulled me… or so I thought. I was finally experiencing again what it feels like to be really turned on, wasn’t I?

  My eyelids sank, and I lifted my heavy hair off my neck.

  There were different grades of turned on weren’t there? Amused, aroused, pleasantly excited? Not this. This was more.

  This was key locked in ignition and motor revving.

  My lungs constricted as icy wetness slicked across my collarbone and down my chest.

  “What the…?” I gasped and let go of my hair.

  Miller smoothed ice cubes from his glass over my hot skin. He let one slip down my cleavage.

  “Oh, God,” I moaned.

  “That hit the spot?” he asked and gently tugged on the wide V of my t-shirt to look for the errant cube. It had nestled in between my breasts
and was melting against my hot skin. I drew in a breath as his finger traced the satiny edge of my black bra and seared my flesh. He chuckled softly.

  I let out a sigh. “Leave it, it feels great right there.”

  Miller took another cube from his glass and rubbed it around my neck then let it slide down my back. My pulse hurtled out of control.

  “Holy crap!” I let out a laugh and arched my back as the ice cube slid down my skin and landed at my waist where my jeans gapped open. My lips parted as his long fingers found the cube, slid it in circles around my lower back then tucked it into the waistband of my panties where it melted down my rear.

  I shook my head at him, pressed my lips together, and suppressed a laugh. Another cube followed down the base of my throat, slid down my chest and landed in my bra. Miller’s cold, wet fingertips traced a line on the side of my neck.

  “Feel better?” he asked. His lips brushed my forehead. He handed me a glass of water.

  I nodded at him and drank. My inner buzzing continued recklessly like a car careening at top speed on a rainy highway.

  He was good.

  This was bad.

  Miller’s lips nuzzled the underside of my jaw, his fingers pressed in at my sides right at the swell of my breasts. An inner landslide of sensation careened through me, and only the word YES surged through my brain.

  My arms flew around his neck. He pulled me deep into his arms against his solid chest and the soft bulkiness of his hoodie. Our tongues tangled, my back arched into his embrace.

  Miller tasted of cool freshness and golden warmth all at the same time. His hand slid up the side of my breast then quickly went down my back to the curve of my ass and squeezed. A shudder went through me.

  “Grace,” he whispered in my ear. “You got somewhere we can go? We can always go out back, I’ve got my truck with me tonight.” His tongue licked at the shell of my ear.

  Ah, the old quickie in the parking lot. No, I didn’t want a slam-bam. I wanted more, a lot more. In fact, I had all night to indulge in this insanity.

  I tore my mouth away from his neck and stared at him. “You’re disappointing me, Miller. We’re grown-ups, aren’t we?”

  “I don’t feel like a grown-up right now, Grace. I don’t think I can wait to even get you in my truck, you’re driving me that insane,” he breathed. He let out a small groan. “Jesus, you smell good. What the hell is that? Watermelon with roses?” His thumb stroked my nipple over my shirt, and my breath hitched in the back of my throat.

  I was certainly pleased to hear my recent impulse buy of expensive perfume had been worth it. Both of his hands squeezed my ass and pulled me into his urgent hardness. The sudden intensity of the rush only made me ravenous for more. Geez, I was the one behaving like a teenager, at least my hormones were.

  Wait a second—that was actually refreshing news.

  I released my hold on Miller in order to get ahold of myself. We were in a public bar after all. I gulped down the rest of the cold water. Miller’s large hands stroked up and down my back.

  I didn’t want to say no to this… to him. The need to touch him again overtook me with a sudden desperation. My hands slid around his waist and grazed over a thick leather and metal belt looped through his jeans. My fingers travelled up over the sleek, firm muscles of his torso. His breath caught, and heat rushed straight through me at the sound.

  Yes, I want him badly.

  But I didn’t want to do this in a truck, a back alley or a parking lot for God’s sake.

  Just say it. Say it. Say it. Say it.

  “I have a room at the motel across the way,” I whispered in his ear. My fingers traced the line of his jaw. His arms squeezed me.

  I was breathless at the prospect of this sort of anonymous, midnight fling. I hadn’t had a one-night stand in a very long time. Such nameless, faceless, raw experiences had lost their luster for me early on in my widowhood. They left me feeling even more hollow than I already felt. I began to prefer friendly and affectionate casual dating instead. The going out, the laughs, the meals, the sleeping together were enjoyable, pleasant, nice. But I had nothing to give these men I chose, and so they never lasted. And that was fine.

  I shut my brain down, and my eyes riveted on Miller. Austerely attractive, brooding, tall, great lips, amazing tongue…

  Once this was over that would be it, right? It would be done. I was just passing through anyhow. He obviously didn’t live around here either or he’d be dragging me to his place, wouldn’t he?

  Oh crap, maybe he’s married or he’s got a girlfriend? Seriously, why wouldn’t he be taken?

  “I forgot about that motel,” he said. “Perfect.” He planted a firm kiss on my mouth and ended it with a leisurely swipe of his delicious tongue.

  I pulled back from him, my hands against his chest. “Wait a sec… how about you?” I asked.

  Miller’s gaze darkened, the silver threads all but disappeared, and his eyes burned straight through mine as he tilted my face towards his.

  “How about me what?”

  “You have a wife or a girlfriend?”

  “No, I don’t.”

  This would be a candy bar, that’s all this was. Chew, savor, and throw out the wrapper on your way out. End of story.

  Miller pulled out two twenty-dollar bills from his wallet and waved them at the bartender, who hustled down to us. The bartender handed him his change. He left him a generous tip.

  Once I managed to finally unlock the door to my room on the third try, Miller jerked the key from the lock, tossed it on the table, and slammed the door behind us. The room was engulfed in streaky darkness. He tore off his hoodie and whatever else he had on underneath, and I yanked off my shirt.

  Our rapid, short breaths filled the room. His jeans along with his heavy belt hit the floor with a clang and thud. I fell back on the edge of the bed with an oomph to do away with my boots and socks as quickly as humanly possible.

  He lunged at me, and his powerful hands jerked my jeans off my hips. I tumbled off the bed onto the floor, and we laughed. I felt the weight of him on me and reveled in it. My fingers raced across the lean muscles of his shoulders and back. I groaned in satisfaction as he unhooked my bra and freed my swollen breasts into his greedy hands.

  Miller kneaded and licked them, and I gasped at the unexpected burning sensations rippling through me. He sucked hard on each nipple in turn, and I bucked against his hips, rubbing myself up and down on his erection like an animal in heat. I was an animal in heat; there was no help for it, though. If I stopped to think about it, I would stop myself. So I didn’t think. I kept going. His hand slid over the lace edge of my panties against my inner thigh. I let out a tiny gasp.

  “I want you good and wet,” Miller breathed in my ear as two of his fingers thrust past the damp fabric. His knuckles swirled against my clit. I tugged my panties down my hips, but he took over, yanked them down my legs, and flung them to the side. Two of his fingers sank deep. I let out a low moan as they churned inside me. He groaned and muttered something under his heavy breaths. Bunched nerve endings detonated all over my body.

  Shit, he knew what he was doing. What a relief.

  He whispered over me. I raised my hips up and circled them within the rhythm that he worked me.

  “Yeah, Grace,” he said. The raw tone in his voice radiated its heat right through me. He moved down my body. His tongue lashed across my nub. I exploded right there and then. His teeth nipped at my breast, and that only shot me higher.

  “Yes!” I cried out, and Miller growled somewhere above me. Precious waves of sensation rolled through my body.

  As I floated in my own little stratosphere, the rustle and rip of a foil packet snapped me to my senses. I tore the questionable quilt off the mattress, scrambled up on the bed and squirmed on the cool sheets. I ached with the need to feel his smooth body rub against mine and fill me. All I wanted right this very moment was to consume and be consumed.

  Miller sat up in between my legs and ra
n his ringed finger over my wet sex. He rubbed the cold bulky silver eagle in small circles over my clit, and my hips jerked.

  “Miller—”

  His eyes glittered over me in the muted light from the street signs outside. He brought the ring to his mouth and licked it. My hands wrapped around his powerful thighs to steady myself in a desperate attempt to prevent shattering into a thousand pieces.

  He leaned over me, one hand planted in the mattress. “You ready for me, Grace?” he breathed.

  I was beyond ready. I tilted up my chin at him.

  He positioned himself and drove inside me. My body arched off the bed. My hands gripped his shoulders as I struggled to adjust to his thickness, filling me, stretching me. I raised my hips to take him in further.

  I wanted all of this, all of him, needed him like oxygen, like water.

  “Shit, you feel good.” Miller let out a groan and hooked one of my legs around his hip. He rocked deeper inside me, and my eyes flew open. My fingers rubbed into the base of his skull as we moved together and against each other quicker and harder. The glorious wave actually built inside me again.

  “Grace—you got it?” he asked. “I’m not going to last much longer. You’re making me fucking crazy.”

  How considerate of him to communicate.

  I had learned how to be self-sufficient. There hadn’t been much real communication with the men I had slept with over the years, just a lot of show on their part. I ground up into Miller and chased my peak. I tightened my inner muscles around him and circled my hips. His mouth hung open, his forehead furrowed with the strain. Then his gaze darted down my body. His hand dug into my hip, his teeth sank into my shoulder.

  That did me in.

  Miller stroked faster, over and over. The only thing left was to succumb to that rolling storm of sensation. It finally burst and crashed over me. My fingers dug into his back, and I released myself into that sweet, crazy haze.

  Miller’s grip on me tightened, his body suddenly stiffened. I held my breath as he jolted into me. He buried his face in my neck where he muffled a string of curses. Our bodies were veiled in a sheen of sweat and musk. He raised his head; his eyes were fierce. His mouth crushed mine. I hooked both my legs around his, my fingers raked through his short hair.