More Than Fashion (2 page)

Oh, hell to the no. “How about you get lost?”

He didn’t listen, just moved even closer, completely invading my personal space. “It’ll be fun. You and me, my bed, and a lot less clothes.”

I was about to go off on him, to yell at him to take his hand off me before I karate-chopped it off—not that I knew karate, but his type always assumed every Asian person was a martial arts master—when the tattooed guy from across the bar showed up at my side.

“Are you bothering my girlfriend?” he asked in a cool, direct voice. Good god, he had an English accent. As if he wasn’t hot enough already.

Wait, did he just say
girlfriend
? I raised my eyebrows at him, but he kept his gaze focused on the other guy.

The douchebag looked confused again, but he removed his hand from me at least. “Girlfriend?”

My “boyfriend” moved a little closer, draping an arm across the back of my chair, yet not actually touching me. He was tall, though smaller in build than the jerk beside me. Even so, he had more of an edge to him. A dark, imposing presence, like he tended to get what he wanted.

“I believe she told you to leave.” He said it in a polite way, but his voice had an underlying menace to it.

“Whatever, man.” The douchebag got up and walked off, muttering to himself. He left the bar, probably heading back to his hotel room or to a different bar to pick up another girl. I hoped, for his sake, he didn’t try that Hello Kitty line again.

“Thanks, but I didn’t need you to rescue me,” I said to my fake boyfriend with a flirty smile.

“No, I’m quite sure you could handle it on your own.” He sat beside me and gestured at the bartender to refill our drinks. “But it’s a gentleman’s duty to help a lady in distress.”

“A gentleman? I thought those didn’t exist anymore.”

“Clearly you’ve been hanging out with the wrong men.”

“You just saw proof of that.”

He laughed, and it practically set my panties on fire. His voice was like butter, and I wanted it spread all over me. That didn’t even make sense, but it was true. Wow, maybe I was drunker than I thought. But the bartender slid another martini in front of me and I took a sip without a second thought. When in New York, right? Or was that Las Vegas? Rome? Whatever.

“Besides, I wasn’t in distress,” I said. “I was already getting rid of him when you showed up on your white horse and just had to save the day.”

“Maybe I wanted an excuse to talk to you. Forgive me?”

Up close, he was even better looking, with steel gray eyes that seemed to dance under the bar lights. Damn, he was almost
too
pretty. Guys that hot always knew it, and they were usually trouble. But for tonight, I’d suffer it. And with those lips and that body…well, there wouldn’t be much suffering.

I dragged a lazy finger around the edge of my glass and smiled. “I suppose.”

He held out his tattooed hand. “I’m Gavin—”

God, even his name was sexy. I pressed a finger to his soft lips. “No names.”

“No?” he asked, arching his dark eyebrows. “Not exactly fair, since you know mine now.”

“I tried to stop you.” I preferred not to use names when I hooked up with a guy. Names made everything far too personal and that didn’t work for me. Especially not tonight. Not when I only had a few hours and then would be on my way, never to see Gavin again. I was already trying to forget his name.

“What shall I call you, then?” he asked.

“Whatever you want, as long as it’s not Hello Kitty.”

“Why in the world would I call you that?”

“That’s what the other guy called me.”

“Not a very good pickup line.”

“Obviously not.”

“Worked out for me, though.” A sly smile spread across his lips. I couldn’t stop staring at his mouth. Couldn’t stop imagining what it would be like to taste him.

“Yes, it did.” I was dying to get him up to my room already. I placed my hand on his knee, hoping he’d get the hint. But he seemed to want to talk.

“What are you doing in New York, mystery girl?”

“I’m here for business.”
And I don’t want to talk about it,
I hoped my tone conveyed. I inched my hand up his leg, along his smooth black jeans. I bet they fit as well as his shirt did and wondered how his ass looked in them. I’d have to sneak a peek before I dragged them off him. And another peek once they were in a pile on the floor.

“What do you do?” he asked.

Enough already. When could we skip to the making out part? Maybe if I told him something he would shut up and kiss me. “I’m a pre-med student.”

It slipped out without a thought. Technically that
was
my “job” at the moment. But that wasn’t why I was in New York. Not that he of the gorgeous hair, enticing lips, and oh-so-sexy accent needed to know that.

“I’m here on business, too. I’m…an artist.” There was a touch of hesitation to his words, like he was worried I’d be turned off by that. “Where are you visiting from?”

“You ask a lot of questions.”

An eyebrow shot up. “Is it so terrible I want to get to know you?”

Yes, because I had no intention of seeing him again after tonight. And no, because when a guy as sexy as him wanted to get to know you, it wasn’t terrible at all. Especially when he brushed hair away from my face with the softest touch and lowered his head to my ear. “Tell me where you’re from,” he whispered, his breath tickling my neck.

“Los Angeles,” I confessed, silently begging him to kiss me. But he didn’t.

“Los Angeles? Sounds glamorous.”

I had to laugh at that. “Not really.”

“I’m from London. Well, Mum’s from Wales and Dad’s from the States, but that’s where I grew up.”

“I can tell from the accent. But you talk too much.” Enough chit-chat. It was obvious he wanted me, and I wasn’t exactly being coy either.

He gave a sharp laugh. “No one’s told me that before. I thought Americans loved the accent.”

“Oh, we do.” I played with his shirt, inching up his chest with my fingers. “But what I want to do? Doesn’t involve talking.”

“Is that so?” He rested the hand with the rose tattoo on my thigh, his fingers dipping under the hem of my skirt. “What is it you want to do, then?”

I gripped his shirt’s collar, pulling him down to my mouth. Our lips touched with a fierce heat that sent warmth through my entire body. A little moan escaped me as his tongue met mine and stroked it slowly. He tasted of rum and coke, bitter and sweet, spicy and smooth.

“That,” I said, “is what I want to do. And a lot more.”

CHAPTER TWO

H
is gray eyes stared into mine, as though trying to search out all my secrets. “Tell me your name.”

“No names,” I repeated.

He claimed me in a deep kiss, hands gripping my hips and possessing my body right there in the middle of the bar. That familiar numbness washed over me, blocking out every worry, every thought other than this moment with him. Yes, this was exactly what I’d been aching for all night. Or, at least, this was a good start.

“Let’s go to my room,” I begged, breathing faster, heart pounding, my entire body warm from the alcohol and his touch. I wanted him now. Without all those clothes on. Or maybe with those clothes on. That would be hot, too. I could just unzip his pants, yank up my skirt, and let him have his way with me…

He gave me a slow smile, like he knew exactly what I was thinking. He paid the bartender for both our drinks, and while we waited, I ran a dark red nail up and down his neck until he shivered. He grabbed my hand and slipped my finger into his mouth, sucking on it with sinful eyes that promised me more to come. I sighed, desire burning through me, wishing we could hurry it up and get to my room already.

We left the bar and stumbled across the hotel lobby to the elevator. Or at least, I stumbled, from a combination of all those martinis and my tall heels. But every time I swayed, he held me with those tattooed arms and firm hands, and I didn’t mind one bit.

The elevator doors shut, and we were alone. He pinned me back against the mirrored wall, hands pressed to the glass on either side of my head, caging me with his body and his intense gaze.

“Tell me your name,” he demanded again in that sexy accent.

“No names.” I began unbuttoning his shirt.

“I’ve already told you mine.”

“I’ve already forgotten,” I lied.

I buried my mouth in the spot of skin I uncovered below his collarbone, tasting him there. He groaned and pressed his firm body against me, and I wanted, wanted, wanted. One of my legs went up around him, and he caressed my thigh, dipping under my skirt, inching closer and closer along my bare skin.

“I have to call you something,” he said into my neck, nipping and kissing in a way that made my head spin. And made the room spin. Had he said something? I couldn’t focus. All I could think about was the feel of his lips on my neck and his fingers on my thigh and the aching between my legs.

We tumbled out of the elevator and onto my floor. I tripped on the carpet as we walked to my room and lost one of my heels, which made me giggle. He picked the lost shoe up and dangled it in front of me with a grin. I kicked off the other shoe, and he snatched that one up, too.

Barefoot and laughing, I scampered down the hall to find my room. What was the number again? I soon found the right door, but then I couldn’t locate the keycard in my purse. He came up behind me, holding my heels in one hand, looking impossibly sexy with his shirt half-unbuttoned. His fitted black jeans hung low on his hips, hugging his long, lean legs, and his hair was messy from me running my fingers through it.

Forget the room. I pushed him against my door and kissed him there in the hotel hallway. Hard. Intense. Sliding my body against his. He wanted me. I could feel the evidence of it pressed against my stomach. My hand fumbled at his waist, seeking the front of his jeans. No one would notice if we did a little something right here…

He took my hand, stopping me. “Let’s go inside first.”

Oh, fine. I redoubled my search for the key and then remembered—aha! I’d shoved it in my bra. Totally his fault. If he’d been going to town on that area, we would have found it already. I pulled the card out of my breasts triumphantly and shoved it into the slot. Or tried, anyway. It took me three attempts before I finally got it open. Okay, maaaaybe I’d had a little too much to drink tonight.

He followed me into the room, dropping my shoes on a side table. I tried to reach for him, but he walked all the way in to stand in front of the floor-to-ceiling window. Maybe he was suddenly nervous or something. I’d seen that before. I’d pick up a guy in a bar, and they’d seem all gung-ho to get in my pants, then panic as soon as they got to my room. I’d have to give him a little help.

I shimmied out of my panties. Or tried. Those suckers were tight, and why was it so much harder to get them off than I’d remembered? Finally I succeeded in sliding them down my legs, while he watched with inscrutable eyes.

“Come here,” I said, throwing them at him. They missed, landing on a lampshade, the red lace casting dark shadows across the room. He laughed, and some of the tension in his shoulders seemed to ease. Yet still he didn’t move.

“It’s late…” he said, glancing at the clock on the nightstand, which read 1:26 AM in neon blue letters.

I crossed the room and slid a hand up his chest. Yes, it was late and I had to be up early, but if he left now, I’d lie awake all night, tormented by all those doubts and worries that kept trying to creep back into my brain. But more than that, I didn’t want him to leave. Sure, I could go back to the bar and try to find someone else, but I didn’t
want
anyone else. I needed
him
. Bad.

“Don’t go,” I whispered. Our eyes locked, and the air between us crackled. I licked my lips, and his gaze fixed on them.

Then he was on me, hands in my hair, tilting my head so he could devour my mouth. I surrendered to it, clutching at his shirt, his back, his shoulders. Anything to bring him closer. He tasted like sin, and I couldn’t get enough. I’d kissed a lot of guys before, more than I could count, but this one blew them all away. This was a kiss I’d remember long after his name was forgotten.

Gavin
.

He spun me around and my back pressed against the floor-to-ceiling window, the thick glass cool through my clothes. He dropped his mouth to my neck, to my collar, to my chest. With each touch of his lips, all my anxiety was swept away.

His fingers skimmed up and down my sides slowly while he kissed me all over, sending little shivers across my skin. My head fell back against the window, and my entire focus narrowed to the man in front of me, just like I’d wanted. When his mouth covered my breast through the fabric of my dress, I gasped. And when his teeth lightly scraped over my hard nipple, I had to grab onto the curtains beside me for support.

I was ready for him to rip my clothes off, but instead he kneeled in front of me and pressed his lips to my knees. He pushed my dress up to my hips as he left burning kisses along the inside of one leg, then repeated with the other. My panties were long gone and he was so close. All I could do was hold my breath and pray for more. Closer…closer…

He nudged my legs apart even wider and gazed up my body, fixing me with those smoky gray eyes. “Is this what you want?”

“Yes.” My butt was pressed against the glass, but we were high enough up that I doubted anyone would see us through the tinted windows. Not that I cared if all of New York saw us at this very moment. “Yes, this is what I want.
Please
, Gavin.”

At the sound of his name, he dropped his head between my thighs, finally kissing me
there
. Right where I wanted him. My breath escaped me in a rush as the feel of his mouth took over. His tongue—flicking, darting, setting me on fire. His lips—those beautiful, perfect lips, pressing against me. His teeth—grazing and nipping at my tender skin. I couldn’t stop myself from grinding against him, wanting more, more, more. I spiraled higher and higher, so close…

“Gavin,” I begged over and over. “Oh god, don’t stop.”