Just One Night (Tantalizing Trope Novella Book 2) Read online

  “Ella,” A little voice draws me from my very improper thoughts, “Can we learn that move today?” I blink down at the adorable angel dancing side to side beside me. Oh, the shame.

  “Of course, sweet cheeks. I did promise.” I wink at her, taking her hand to follow her back to the class.

  Dance was always my passion. Until I was about ten, I wanted to be a ballerina. I think most girls do. Luckily, I had an outlet for it, despite my home situation, thanks to an awesome teacher at school who saw the sparkle in my eyes after a class trip to watch the Nutcracker. Ms. Johnson saw to it I made it to every dance class, every recital and every competition.

  During college, while playing the Sugarplum Fairy during my first big production, I got injured. Dreams of dancing on Broadway dashed, I shifted my major from dance composition to liberal arts, hoping to one day teach. Coming to New York might seem like precisely what a dancer might want, but without chances of ever working Broadway other than an assistant or a choreographer, it's a constant reminder of what I lost.

  Teaching soothes the loss though.

  Once I finish with my munchkin class, I have a salsa class that is always fun. After sashaying with them, my day is over. Three o'clock. An entire hour of waiting. I shower quickly then spend at least ten minutes debating make up. I rarely wear more than lip-gloss and mascara and decide since it's just a late lunch, anything more might seem too obvious.

  Obvious of what, I don't know.

  “Have a good night, Good-Witch Glenda!” I call breezily to my boss and the owner of the dance studio.

  Outside it is cool and overcast, the air still smelling of yesterday's rain. Tipping my head back, I breathe in the moment of fresh air before congested streets and dirty trash ruins it. Kicking through the puddles along my way towards the park, I touch Knox' phone in my pocket.

  Heat blooms between my thighs as a vivid image fills my head.

  Rain, the mossy grass of my favorite hill in the park where the walking path ends as a manicured forest begins. It's dark and quiet there. I can smell the earth and the flowers that line the pathway. And, if I imagine hard enough, I can smell Knox. Or what I think he must smell like.

  Expensive sheets and designer cologne, silky suits and soap.

  It's visceral, the image of him there, so much so I stop as I reach it, certain for seconds I have conjured him. But, no, it's just my imagination.

  Lying down on the damp grass, I smile up at the almost perfect circle of sky the surrounding trees carve out overhead. I like to lay here at twilight, watching the bursts of stars that smog soon enough clouds. A breeze kicks up, ruffling my skirt, but it feels good on my skin.

  Almost like fingertips walking up my knee, over my thigh. I let out a throaty sound as I imagine fingertips walking higher, skimming between my legs. My breathing picks up as I see Knox again, bent over me, dark hair tousled in his face. He whispers my name as his fingers slide inside me and I gasp.

  “Fuck.” I bite my lip, shoving up on my elbows. No one is around. It's just me and my fantasies again.

  “Who are you, Knox?” I ask it to the skies, impatient for the answer.

  Knox

  I love to work. Love to plan and build something that speaks to my tastes, my vision. Today, though, the end of my work day cannot get here fast enough. Unlike most days, my eyes focus on the clock until I can't take it a minute longer.

  “Cutting out,” I announce to Taylor at three-thirty, “Got a meeting.” Taylor quirks his brows, checking first his watch then his calendar.

  “Liar. Who’s the girl?” With a smirk, he shoves away from his desk, settling in to give me shit. Fucking Ora.

  It's not a lie. More of an embellishment.

  I do need to be somewhere. It does involve a female.

  A woman I cannot get out of my head. Just a few messages. Nothing racy or sexy, even. Just Ella being Ella. Dodgy about details, a bit forward in kind of an inquisitive way. It's all of that. But it's more.

  I dreamt about her for Christ's sakes. About making love to her under the stars, kissing her freckles as she whispers my name, tangling my fingers in her thick hair as my lips brand her skin. Fuck, I'm hard again just thinking about thinking about her.

  “Not a girl. A woman.” I wink at him, rap twice on his door and head out.

  I want to be there waiting for Ella. Want to watch her come in, seek me out. See if she is as excited about the prospect of getting face to face as I am. It's all I could think of since that fucking photo. When fantasy became reality in a way I never experienced before.

  It's been awhile since I wanted a woman. Since I actually wanted to talk to her, know her details, count her freckles. Really wanted something. I don't date, really, I don't have much time with the pace we are growing at. I don't sleep around either though. Plenty of photos in that phone Ella now possesses might suggest otherwise.

  Dozens of photos of me with women of all colors and flavors of the rainbow. Really, though, I keep just five. Just five women who know I don't want more right now and might never want more with them. Some other faces are just faces. Photos might make it seem otherwise, and we might fool around, but I don't take randoms to bed.

  Anticipation zips through me as I push through the doors of the Grind at last, lungs appreciating the savory coffee grind scent layered with a hint of their famous caramel sticky rolls. Temptation all around me today, it seems. I order two coffees, one a tall and dark for myself, the other sweet and creamy for her. Choosing the perfect high-top table to watch the door, I take a seat and wait.

  I am early so I expect a long wait. Bouncing my knee, tapping a beat out on the table, I realize I am more than anxious. I am fucking excited. I want to see her. Want to talk to her, hear her voice. Want to ask her about the details she wants to keep guarded.

  I don't know how it's possible. It is, because I feel it. Before Ella even steps foot inside, I feel her here. Fifteen minutes early. As eager as me?

  It's like a slow-motion scene as Ella makes an entrance. And damn, what an entrance.

  Both doors blow open as she steps inside, thick dark hair caught up in a breeze that smells of sunshine and rain. Wearing a loose shirt-dress that falls to midthigh, a huge belt wrapped around her narrow waist, she looks comfortable and sexy. A floppy hat and huge sunglasses hide most of her face but she tears them both off, laughing at herself as she shoves them in a bag slung over her front.

  Jesus.

  Earthy motherfucking Ella.

  More beautiful than that adorable photo could have ever captured. Breath catches in my lungs as I watch her laugh, twisting a hand through her thick hair where streaks of caramel pop against the chocolate waves. I imagine tangling my fingers in it, instead of her. Tipping her head back to look into her eyes before I cover her full pink lips with mine.

  Those eyes swing my way, landing right on me.

  A thud at my chest worries me before I realize it's my heart hammering. Thunk. Thunk-thunk. Ella softens as our eyes meet, her entire face glowing warmth as she cuts through the crowd, never looking away. I watch every move she makes, take note of the metallic rustle of the many turquoise bracelets sliding up her arm.

  I think I will always remember that sound, the smell of coffee, caramel, sunshine and rain, when I think of her.

  “Ella?” I stand, reaching a hand out towards her, fingers shaking with the need to touch her. To prove she's real.

  “Knox?” I nod at her as my fingers find purchase at her waist.

  Just a brief touch. A pass of my fingers over her waist, up her side.

  And yet I am anchored to her by that touch, unable to let go of her. Unable to look away from her as the crowded coffee shop presses in on us. I am aware of nothing else but her as my fingers press into her, feeling her heat, the silkiness of her dress. Ella steps into my personal space, head tipped back until her thick hair brushes my skin.

  And suddenly, I don't care about my phone. About coffee or lunch.

  I want to rip the dress fr
om her skin and explore the soft warmth beneath it. Want to feel her skin beneath my lips, hear her moan my name as I take her until we forget how we got here. I want to press her into grass in the park as the stars dance overhead and bury myself inside her.

  “Can we get out of here?” Ella watches my mouth as she bites at her bottom lip.

  “Yes. Where to, Ella?” Ella lifts on tip toes, brushing all of herself against me as her mouth answers against my ear.

  “The park.” Can't believe it—took the words right out of my fucking mouth.

  I don't wait. I don't think. I just toss some cash on the table, take her hand and rush from the coffee shop. Its four blocks to the park. Once we reach the edge, I slow. Ella giggles before taking the lead through a footpath I often take during my own walks. We end up on a low hill, surrounded on one side by the forest and everywhere else by massive boulders.

  Pressing into the darkness, I pin her to a smooth rounded boulder that seems made to fit her body. Framing her face in my hands, I crash my mouth into hers, swallowing her moan because it's all fucking mine. Frantic hands tangle in her thick hair, tugging her head back as I work my mouth towards her neck.

  “Knox....I... don't....” I don't care about who she was before this moment. Who I was. Neither of those people even exists after this moment.

  “Hush now, beautiful,” I break away to let us both breathe, locking gazes with her, “Let it be however it's going to be, Ella. Can't stop thinking about you. Losing my phone was a twist of beautiful fate.” Ella giggles, wriggling beneath me as if reminding me of where fate led us right now.

  Taking her hint, I drop my head to work my mouth against her neck, tonguing the hollow of her throat. Even in the dark corner of the park, I see freckles. I trace them with my tongue, grunting as her hands tangle in my hair, holding me close, urging me on. Asking for more.

  Her skin is buttery soft and sweet as sugar. I skim my hands up her sides and over her back, I realizing she is braless. Fuck. Makes me wonder if she's wearing panties. I drop a hand between her thighs, spreading them with a gentle shove before walking my fingers up the inside of one. Jesus Christ.

  “Holy hell, Ella....this all for me, beautiful?” I swipe two fingers through honey coated folds, my cock aching as she bellows a moan.

  “Yes. All you....wait. Wait.” Ella gasps as I disobey her, pushing knuckle deep, grunting as she sucks at me greedily. I don't move. Don't breathe. Just wait. Feeling her tightness draw me deeper, begging for more.

  “Waiting, beautiful.” I am. As best I can, at least. I press into her softness, fingers still inside her, feeling her pulse as she bucks slightly.

  “I don't ever.... it's been so....I want to let you take me right here and right now. Because you are beautiful and charming. With quite possibly the most gorgeous cock in all of humanity. I am not that girl. Hard sell with you feeling what kind of girl I am from the inside.” I laugh. I can't help it.

  Without a doubt I know it's true. Besides half a dozen mildly flirtatious texts in the last twenty-four hours, we don't know a thing about one another. And yet, I know Ella is not a woman who lets a stranger take her in the park. She wants to let me though.

  Smirking at her compliment about my cock, I realize something. Not-that-girl Ella got into my phone deep enough to hit pay dirt. My filthy selfies got her hot. I want to know how hot.

  “Seen my cock, beautiful,” I watch her flush in the late afternoon sun, eyes darting away, “Photos barely do it justice. Think you ought to experience it live and in the flesh.” I pump my fingers twice, watching her bite her lip as she shudders.

  “Oh, fuck. I want to. I do. I don't doubt for a second it might be life altering...I just don't...I don't know how....” Ella sighs, softening a little.

  Changing my touch between her legs, I press the flat of my fingers to her clit, rubbing slow, hard. Spreading her wetness over the aching numb pulsing beneath my touch. I want her so bad my cock aches. Pushing at my zipper, he wants to alter the fuck out of her life right now.

  Problem is, I suddenly want more than a moment in the park.

  I don't date. Don't take romantic strolls or sit down to decadent meals in order to get laid. I just get laid. Make a call, go to one of the hotels—I never go to their place or bring them to mine—and get fucking laid. However I want it that night, with whoever I want that night.

  Got a good thing going with the women I deal with now. Deal with. Sounds crass, I suppose. It is what it is. Don't want to be tied down, don't want more than one night at a time, and don’t want to risk some needy or greedy woman wrecking the life I busted my ass to build.

  Standing there in the warm glow of the afternoon, watching beautiful Ella flush beneath my touch, I want more. Walks, dinners, her in my bed at my place, her clothes on my floor, the melody of her too-many bracelets filling my space. I want that kind of more. Which is fucking impossible.

  “Much as I want to alter your life, beautiful, afraid I am not much good after. Just one night is what I have to offer. Not good enough for you, Ella.” Still touching her intimately, I can't stop until I get what I came for. Not the phone. Her pleasure. Need to see it once.

  “Not even....oh, Christ.” Ella's eyes roll back as two fingers push back inside her tightness. Twisting them until I find just what I'm looking for, I lower my head to take her mouth.

  It's just moments of me kissing her deep and sweet, as if savoring the taste of her, before...there it is. I watch it in rapt fascination. Ella's hair spreads out on the boulder I bent her over, her entire body shuddering as a shimmer of pink sweeps over her. Head tipped back, a smile blends with a soft sound of pleasure as she comes. Fuck me, it’s the most beautiful fucking orgasm I have ever witnessed.

  Ella's eyes lock on mine as a second orgasm rolls through her. I can't look away. Don't want to. I want to remember every detail. From the skin glistening at her neck as it works with her moans, the way her freckles between her tits glow amber beneath pink pleasure. How those eyes light with a fire so hot it singes me through. I drop to take her mouth once more, uncertain I can possibly consider walking away from her.

  But, I do.

  We kiss for a lot longer. I lick her sticky syrup from my fingers, my cock weeping at the salty sweetness. I cradle her to me in an embrace more intimate than I think I've ever shared with a woman. But, it's me who breaks away. Me who says nothing more, offers no strolls through parks or dinners together. Me who refuses to promise something I know I won't do.

  Ella smiles softly, sadly, pushing up on her toes to lick my mouth in the single most erotic goodbye of my life.

  “Goodbye, Good Sir.” Fuck. My cock punches at my zipper as I feel a cold weight pressed into my hand.

  I don't watch her go. Terrified I might try to stop her.

  Instead, I linger, wondering how often Ella comes here. How often she sits here in the darkness and watches the starts light up the sky.

  Keeps me from wondering why I want more than just one night when I know damn well I can't have it.

  Ella

  I eat alone.

  Buzzing from the single best orgasm—orgasms because there was more than one—of my life, I sit at my favorite Korean joint, savoring kimchi that tastes like the best food I have ever put in my mouth.

  Terrified of details, I never asked Knox for his name, for what he did or who he was. Never shared many of my own details, either. Details get you hurt. People who know your details know how to hurt you best. I protect my details.

  After ten seconds of being near Knox, I felt like I knew all the details that mattered. And he knew mine.

  I didn't need details to know I wanted him. Right there in my spot at the park, just as I had imagined it. My details disagreed though. Once I mentioned not being that girl, although his touch pressing inside me said otherwise, Knox's details didn't need to be said. He was that kind of guy.

  One driven by something other than romance or love. Who touched and tasted in small bites, never enough to fill him
up but enough to sate his needs. I was starved for more. Would never be sated with just one taste.

  Life, to me, was a Goddamn buffet you ought to take a few trips to. Smirking at my ridiculous analogy—no doubt brought on by the banchan of Korean treats before me, I took a voracious bite.

  Smiling like the cat that ate the cream, I wonder about those photos I took this morning with his phone. Feeling brave, I'd copied a few of my favorite poses of his from the many choices in his albums. Figured it was only fair, I used one of them for my own pleasure.

  Perhaps he might enjoy a taste of his own just desserts.

  The very idea of it makes me positively ravenous.

  Knox

  Christ on a cracker.

  Earthy motherfucking Ella wanted me dead. No other explanation.

  I walked away from the park yesterday doubting my choices. Wondering how one woman, faster than I knew was humanly possible, had burrowed so deeply under my skin. And, Ella was in there fucking deep.

  I spent most my night pretending otherwise. Skimming through photos and videos of me with other women, doing my damnedest to pretend any of them compared to her. They didn't, of course. Not even close.

  Even called two of my very favorites to arrange a meetup at the hotel downtown. Neither sounded soft nor sweet enough. Neither had dark eyes with darker hair with honey streaks of sunshine in it. None of them laughed when I kissed them when I touched them where they want me most.

  “Not tonight,” I sighed during the second call that I had initiated, confusing the hell out of both of us, “I forgot I had something come up suddenly.” Not only did I not take Ella in the park like we both wanted and not meet up to bang out my frustration with a usual suspect, I think I lost two of my favorites.

  Truth is, I didn't even fucking care.

  I read through every message Ella and I shared about a dozen times. Typed out new ones to her twice that. Never sent a single one of them because whatever the girl had done to me, she had done it good. Seriously doubted one night with Ella could even come close to being enough.