Driving Her Crazy (13 page)

Chapter Eleven

Cherice paced the room waiting for him to return. Her body burned for him. Somewhere deep down she knew this was a bad idea, but she didn’t care. She’d toed the line, always. Her entire life had been mapped out to make her parents happy. Fine. She’d deal with them tomorrow. But this night—this one night was hers. To do whatever she wanted. And she wanted Oz with an intensity that scared the shit out of her. She just prayed that the damn machine in the lobby was fully stocked and that Oz came back loaded.

She didn’t have to wait long. He hadn’t been gone three minutes when the door opened and he came bursting back inside.

“Well?” she asked.

He grinned and held up a handful of condoms. Her eyes widened.

“Think you’ll need that many, huh?”

“Well, a man likes to be prepared.”

Her laughed choked off when he dropped the condoms on the bed and stripped his jeans. He was still hard and full, and he didn’t take his eyes off her as he grabbed a foil packet and ripped it open.

She pulled the straps of her gown off her shoulders, letting it fall to a puddle at her feet. Oz froze.

“My God, Cher. You are unbelievably beautiful.”

She smiled and came to him, taking the condom.

“Let me help with that.”

She leaned forward and kissed his chest, trailing her lips down his rock hard abs with little licks and nips, until his sensitive head brushed against her cheek. She looked up at him with a little smile, and took him in her mouth.

He threw his head back, his breath hissing through his teeth. She drew as much of him in as she could, her cheeks hollowing as she sucked. Her teeth lightly grazed the velvety tip and he groaned.

“You keep that up and this will be over before we’ve even started.”

She smiled, reveling in the rush of power she had over him at that moment. But she didn’t want to end things quite yet. She was wet and aching for him. She rolled the condom on and slowly stood, dragging her hands up his thighs as she did.

His hand fisted in her hair and he crushed his mouth on hers, devouring her lips while he walked her backward. They broke apart just long enough to scramble onto the bed and then he covered her, his body pressing hers into the mattress, his leg nudging hers apart. His hand trailed over her thigh, alternately squeezing and lightly brushing her skin, working his way up to where she wanted him most.

When his finger slipped inside her she rubbed against him, crying out at the sensations wracking her body.

“So ready for me. So hot and wet. Is this where you want me?” he asked, his thumb circling her clit.

“Yes,” she gasped, rocking against his hand.

Another finger slipped inside and she almost sobbed. “Oz. Please.”

“Easy, baby. I know what you need.”

She moaned in protest when he removed his fingers but she didn’t have to wait long for what she really wanted. He reached down to guide himself into her and she sucked in a breath as he entered her, one exquisite inch at a time. She bucked beneath him, trying to draw more of him inside. He grabbed her hips and thrust, sheathing himself to the hilt.

He held himself still for just a moment, letting her body adjust to the full, hard length of him. She shifted beneath him, wanting to feel more of him, her body begging for him to fill her, thick and deep, over and over again. Their gazes met, held, burned. No one had ever looked at her like that. Ever. Like he could actually see her, the
real
her. And wanted her. As badly as she wanted him.

Her body tightened around him. A slow smile spread across his lips as he began to move. Cher’s inner muscles were already beginning to quiver, the orgasm building with every retreat and thrust. She rose to meet him, their bodies finding a rhythm that built into something that had her clawing at the sheets.

“Oz!” she gasped.

He moved faster, pounding into her, his muscles straining above her. She wrapped her legs around his waist and his mouth closed over her breast. His teeth lightly grazed her nipple and she came apart, shouting his name as wave after wave of pleasure washed through her. Oz was just behind her, his rhythm faltering. Two more thrusts and he found his own release. He froze, both of them savoring the aftershocks rippling through them.

Then he slowly eased down, resting his forehead on hers, careful to keep his full weight off her as they both gasped for air.

He brushed her hair from her forehead and leaned down to kiss her, slow and lingering. One final, tender kiss, and then he rolled to the side. He kept an arm around her and drew her against him.

“You,” he panted, “are absolutely amazing. Incredible.”

She looked up at him with a smile. “I was just going to say the same thing to you.”

He caressed her cheek, kissing the tip of her nose. “Beautiful.”

“It’s never been like that for me.”

“
Hmm
?”

“I mean I’ve enjoyed myself. But that…that was…”

“I know,” he murmured.

He hugged her closer and for a moment she just allowed herself to be cuddled. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt so…content. Her body was languidly spent and pleasantly drowsy and still experiencing tiny little waves of pleasure every time she moved. That she should experience something so extraordinary in the arms of someone she barely knew…

Oh God. She’d had mind-blowing sex with a man she’d met that morning. Her mother would be mortified. Hell,
she
was mortified. Or…at least she should be. But it didn’t feel like she’d just had sex with a stranger. How was that even possible? Maybe time moved slower on a road trip because she felt like she’d known Oz much, much longer. But no matter what it felt like, he
was
virtually a stranger to her. So what kind of person did it make her that she not only didn’t regret what had happened, she very much wished she could do it again?

Oz kissed her forehead. “I’ll be right back,” he said, easing away from her and heading for the bathroom.

He didn’t take his towel with him so she was treated to an excellent view of his backside as he strolled away. And moments later, she got another eyeful of the front side. Judging from the state of her new favorite appendage, Oz was wishing they could have a repeat performance, as well.

She sat up, clutching the sheet to her breasts. He grinned. Yeah, okay, maybe it was a little late to play the shy virgin, but it was one thing to flaunt your assets when the heat of the moment was burning hot and heavy and another entirely to just lie in bed and casually let it all hang loose. She wasn’t sure she could pull that off. Not that Oz seemed to care, going by the sudden determination in his eyes and the swiftly growing appreciation he obviously felt for what he saw.

“You tired?” he asked.

She shook her head, not sure she could trust herself to speak.

“Good. Because I don’t think I’m done with you just yet.”

Desire shot straight to her core and she tried to suck in a breath. “Oz,” she said, meaning to talk him out of whatever he was about to do.

Once had been all very well and good but…ah hell. He stalked toward her, muscles rippling in the pink neon light. Whatever argument she’d been about to make completely vacated her mind, leaving nothing but a raging desire to leap from the bed and attack him.

Apparently, he had other plans. Just as he reached the bed, he grabbed hold of the sheet she held, lifted it, and dove underneath. She gasped, but before she could say anything else, his hands spread her legs wide, pinned them to the bed, and his tongue licked her opening from one end to the other, pausing to swirl around her newly aching clit.

The sensation overwhelmed her so much she jerked backward, knocking her head against the headboard.

“Ow!”

Oz popped up from under the sheet.

“You okay?”

Cherice rubbed her head, her laugh coming out choked and breathy. “Yes. You surprised me, is all.”

Oz’s grin reminded her of that cat from that Alice movie, amused and sinful, and up to no good. “Oh, you haven’t even begun to be surprised, baby. I’m just getting started.”

His head disappeared again and he set out to show her just how right he was.

Hours later, she lay awake gazing down at him while he slept. His face still held all his personality, even relaxed in sleep. She’d seen pictures of herself asleep. It wasn’t pretty. Mouth open, drool hanging, hair going in a million different directions. But Oz was just…Oz. He even had a little smile on his face like he found everything amusing, even as he was dead to the world.

Cherice rolled over and grabbed her phone. Oz stirred a little. She froze until he stopped moving, then quickly clicked a picture. The night flash went off, but he didn’t wake. She gazed at the picture, unable to keep the smile from her lips. She’d captured the perfect moment.

She put the phone away and snuggled back against him. He turned to her and wrapped himself about her. Cherice drifted off to sleep filled with a sense of peace and contentment she’d never felt before in her life. And would probably never feel again.

…

A sliver of sunlight shone through the threadbare curtains, right into Oz’s eyes. He blinked and lifted his head, then smiled. Sometime during the night, he and Cher had draped themselves around each other. He was holding her to his chest, both arms wrapped about her. One of his legs was wedged firmly between hers and her arm encircled his waist. Her other arm…Oz wasn’t exactly sure where it was. It must be squished between them. But she didn’t seem to mind. Neither did he.

Of all the ways this trip could have turned out, waking up entwined with Miss Cherice Buchanan Debusshere in a dodgy motel in the middle of nowhere was not a scenario he would have dreamed up. Yet here they were.

He glanced at the bedside clock. 5:30 a.m. He’d set his phone alarm for 6:00. Jerry had said the rental guy was going to open at 6:30 for them and was just a few blocks down. They could get ready, walk down, and with any luck, be in Montauk by ten and he could be back in New York by noonish. He should just get up and get moving. But he didn’t want to ruin the moment.

He’d seen the look in her eye when he’d come out of the bathroom the night before. It might not have been full-blown regret, but it had been something along those lines. The problem was, she wasn’t wrong. It had been foolish, maybe, but he couldn’t regret it. At the same time, he had no idea where they went from there. He’d never had a one-night stand with a woman in his life. And Cher felt
less
like a one-night stand than many women he’d been in actual relationships with.

But they made no sense together. They’d been at each other’s throats the entire day. Even if that hadn’t been the case, they barely knew one another. And what they did know was enough to prove they had no business being within a mile of each other, let alone in an actual relationship. But…he knew if she woke up right then and told him she wanted to stay with him forever, he’d carry her off into whatever sunset they could find and do his damned level best to give her a happily ever after.

He could tell the moment she woke. The moment all the absurd
what ifs
running through his head evaporated into smoke. Her body stiffened against his and she pulled away from him. She sat up, brushing her hair out of her face.

“Good morning,” he said.

“Morning,” she murmured back, refusing to meet his eyes. “What time is it?”

He held in a sigh. Back to reality. “A little before six. My alarm should be—”

The theme song from the first
Twilight
movie played out loud and clear. He grabbed his phone and silenced it as quickly as he could. He’d forgotten about that.

“I don’t like waking up to those blaring alarm beeps. That was the first song I came across.” He was totally lying, but he wasn’t going to admit he loved the piano song from a movie he shouldn’t even know the name of, let alone use to wake up to every morning.

She wasn’t laughing, though she did smile. “I like that song. It’s pretty.”

He froze. Something in common? Could you build a relationship on great sex and a love for all things sparkly and cheesy?

She climbed out of bed, tripping a bit over the trailing sheet she kept tucked firmly around her. “I, um, I’m going to go get ready.”

She still wouldn’t meet his eyes. Well, that answered the relationship question. Not that it needed answering.

Cher showered and dressed in record time, edging around him in the bathroom, mumbling responses whenever he asked her a question, not speaking, otherwise. The one time he touched her, standing behind her at the sink and running a light hand down her arm, she balked. Their eyes met for half a second in the mirror, her cheeks flamed scarlet, she gave him a shy smile (though what she had to be shy about after all the ways they’d had each other the night before was beyond him), and then she mumbled something and bolted.

The awkwardness was so thick in the room he finally stepped outside just so he could take a good deep breath. There were some decent-looking bagels and horrible coffee in the lobby. The desk man who had been on duty the night before was gone, so Oz had at least one thing to be thankful for. The condom machine still stood in the corner. Oz would never be able to look at one of those things again without reliving the night he’d just had. Hell, what was he thinking? He’d be reliving that night for the rest of his life. Nothing was ever going to top that.

He stacked a couple bagels on top of two cups of coffee and brought them back up to the room. Cher had her leg up on the bed while she fastened the strap of her new store-brand sandals. She’d changed into a soft-looking dress that wrapped around her waist to tie at the side. The light purple color reminded him of his new interview outfit. They’d match pretty well in their respective outfits. Too bad their clothes would be all that matched.

She looked up when he came in and quickly put her leg back down. He held up the coffee and food.

“Breakfast. Not great, but it’ll have to do for now.”

She took it from him with a shy smile. “Thank you, Nathaniel.”

And he was back to Nathaniel. So much for progress.