Icing on the Cake (Close to Home) by Karla Doyle Page B

smile.
    “Nah, just rising to the challenge.”
    “I can feel that,” she said, rocking against his lap.
    The air around them charged. He growled and laid a firm smack against her bare behind, effectively ending the softness of the moment. “Time you coughed up the magic number.”
    Maybe it was simply massive male pride pushing him to best her former lover and ever-reliable vibrator. Or it could be more.
    Again with that stupid line of thinking. She shouldn’t give a shit why he wanted to make her come all night long. Only that he did. She pushed off his chest and looked into his eyes. “No point in telling you, you’ll never beat it.”
    “There’s that word ‘never’ you seem to like so much. You don’t know me all that well yet, but by breakfast, I promise you’ll never question my ability to get the job done.”
    “Oh, I’m a job now, lawman?”
    “Yeah. And I’m a very hard worker.” The grin on his handsome face could have melted her panties—if he hadn’t already ripped them off.
    “Two down,” she said, winking as she slid back to the passenger seat and opened the door. “Five to go.”
    *
    Curtis followed close behind as Sara walked to his hotel room door. He was tempted to hoist her over his shoulder and carry her so he could put his hand under her dress and get started on orgasm number three. That would’ve required he forfeit the view. He couldn’t get enough of watching her legs, especially in those high-heeled sandals. The straps around her ankles reminded him of restraints, and that sent his brain all kinds of places. Would she allow him to spread her legs, tie them to his bedframe and do as he wished to satisfy her naked, wide-open body?
    She’d hinted at role-playing—maybe she’d pretend to fight him off and he’d restrain her anyway. He’d never gone that route with a woman. Too risky. With Sara, he could picture the scene so vividly, it could have been a memory of something they’d already done. And the image had his dick practically busting through his zipper. As if he hadn’t already been hard to the point of pain.
    He wouldn’t go anywhere near there tonight. Not in some random hotel room during their first night together. That was something for down the road. Another time, in the sanctuary of his apartment. After they knew each other better.
    He froze with the keycard in the lock. “Shit.” There’d be no ‘down the road’ with Sara. No fucking her as she lay tied to his bed, or any other way in his apartment. They had one night and this hotel room. She’d made that damn clear, and by not pushing the subject, he’d agreed.
    Gorgeous amber eyes blinked up at him. “Need some help with that?”
    He withdrew the perfectly operational keycard and handed it to her. “See if it works for you.” He stepped aside, giving her better access. Then stepped behind her, slid his hands under her dress and accessed something he had much more interest in unlocking.
    The button on the door lit green. Sara turned the doorknob, quieting the buzzing, but that’s as far as she went.
    “You want number three out here in the hall?” He eased the tips of two fingers inside her. “Because I can do that. You know by now that I can. But there’s a catch. Next time I make you come, I’ll be fucking you.”
    Dirty talk and sexy threats obviously pushed her buttons, because her breath caught and she backed her ass against his groin.
    “Ten seconds, babe. That’s how long you’ve got before I’m buried inside you, balls-deep.”
    She leaned on the door and together they stumbled through the opening. The sound of steel thudding closed behind them could have been miles away, drowned out by the sound of mutual heavy breathing and urgent making out.
    “Where the hell is the zipper?” He fumbled around blindly, unable to locate the thing he’d toyed with several times tonight. “Fuck it.” He grabbed the back of the dress in both fists and yanked. The crisp rip of fabric