Model Soldier by Cat Johnson

slept with remained forever “Red” or “Blondie” or “Legs” or whatever name he’d dubbed them at first sight.
    Maybe the difference was he and Emily had a professional relationship, too. Who the hell knew? Nothing about this girl and his attraction to her made sense.
    She was not his usual type, but pretty much the opposite of it. They fought like cats and dogs and at times he was fairly sure she outright hated him. And yet here he was, outside her hotel room, and at her invitation, no less.
    Hawk realized he was wasting time on the wrong side of the door with all this thinking, which was also very unlike him. He raised a fist and knocked loudly, holding his breath that she’d answer.
    And answer she did.
    The door opened and Emily, still in the clothes she’d worn to the bar, stepped back to allow Hawk to enter. He took a step forward into the room, and suddenly had an arm full of woman.
    Good thing he had lightening fast reflexes. He caught her and managed to not fall backwards onto his ass as she dove at him, crashing her lips into his.
    Hawk shouldered the door shut with the hope it would lock on its own. Angling his head to take full advantage of her hungry kiss, he didn’t give the damn door another thought as Emily’s tongue invaded his mouth.
    Figuring they would end up there anyway, he stepped heavily toward the bed with Emily wrapped around his neck and waist. A willing woman literally in his hands was good, but one in the bed was even better. There he’d be free to unwrap the wool-covered package and enjoy what was underneath. And more, holding her up was severely limiting his own participation in this unexpected but more than welcome foreplay she’d initiated.
    Hawk prided himself on the prowess of both his hands and mouth and he intended to show off all his skills for this woman. They may have only one night together, but as he set her down and lay above her, he vowed he would make sure she never forgot it.
    Beneath him on the mattress, Emily squirmed and broke their kiss. He raised himself up on shaky arms afraid he had crushed her with his not-inconsiderable weight.
    He needn’t have worried.
    All he could do was groan in response when one of her hands pulled at the turtleneck tucked into his jeans while the other fumbled with his fly.
    She said only two breathless words. “Clothes off.”
    Two words were enough and he couldn’t agree more. He wanted them skin to skin and since she was obviously willing, who was he to slow them down?
    With a long low growl, he dove in for one more taste of her warm and inviting lips, untangled his hand from the mass of her hair and then set to work on getting them both naked as fast as possible.
    She helped and by the time his clothes were in a heap on the floor, so were hers, then Hawk really had something to groan about. Her bulky sweater had hid more than just creamy, ivory skin. It also had disguised two perky peaks tipped with rosy nipples.
    “Damn, you’re beautiful.” And to Hawk’s surprise that was no bullshit. He meant every word.
    “You’re not so bad yourself,” she whispered while her hands explored his now bare chest.
    From the top of her blonde head to the tips of her pale pink polished toes, and everything in between, this woman was a man’s wet dream. Better than Hawk’s latest dream actually, because she was real, in more ways than one. All of her—every last inch right down to the patch of pale curls between her legs proving her a natural blonde—was god-given temptation.
    He’d always been a breast man, usually the bigger the better. But after a run of chicks with implants, everything from fake breast to surgically-plumped lips, Emily’s natural perfection was a huge turn-on.
    Hawk ran his tongue over one pebbled nipple now and watched her shiver. He liked that reaction, a lot, so he took the bite-sized tidbit into his mouth and suckled hard until she groaned and lifted her spine off the bed to press further into his