One Hot Escape (Hot Brits Book 4) Read online

  I've lost my mind, and I don't care.

  The woman spins around once, her mouth open and her eyes large. Then she halts facing me and spreads her arms. "I've never seen a suite like this in my entire life. It's… heaven."

  She's so adorably stunned that I can't help chuckling. "It's a hotel suite, not a celestial paradise."

  "Celestial paradise? Not many people talk that way."

  "Sorry. I have a habit of using big words." A side effect of my job, but I don't want to talk about work with her.

  "Don't apologize for that," she says. "I use lots of words that are way bigger than the ones you just said. Fancy words are so stimulating."

  "Are they? Maybe I should pull up a thesaurus on my mobile so I can seduce you with polysyllabic phrases."

  "Ooh, that's hot."

  I know she's teasing me, but the longer we speak, the more I want to ravish her. A variety of scenarios for doing that play out in my mind, and I can't decide which one to start with.

  "Would you like a drink?" I ask. "There's champagne in the refrigerator."

  "Can't remember the last time I had champagne. So yeah, let's have a little of that."

  I'd ordered the champagne earlier, along with two glasses, because I hoped this woman would knock on my door. I hurry over to the small refrigerator tucked into the corner, retrieve the bottle and two glasses, and return to her. She's moved to the edge of the infinity pool, gazing out into the deepening night. The first stars are visible, and suddenly I feel like I am in heaven, surrounded by glimmering stars and accompanied by an angel in a blue bikini.

  As I stop beside her, I find myself appreciating her profile instead of the night sky.

  She turns her face toward me and smiles. "Are you going to pop that cork?"

  "Yes, of course." I hand her the two glasses, then struggle to do what she said. The bloody cork won't budge, so I give up. "Afraid I can't get the bottle open. We'll have to skip the champagne."

  "Don't worry. I know the trick." She shoves the glasses into my hand and plucks the bottle away from me. With one try, she sends the cork flying into the infinity pool, where it lands with a splash and floats on the surface. "There. Mission accomplished."

  Maybe I should feel emasculated by the fact she accomplished a task I'd failed at, but all I feel is more turned on than ever before in my life. If I bought this woman dinner at a posh restaurant, I'm sure she wouldn't order salad with no dressing and pick at it like a bird. She would devour a medium-rare steak with gusto.

  And watching her do that would make me want to spread her body across a table in the middle of that restaurant and drive into her.

  She pours champagne into the two glasses I'm still grasping, then sets the bottle on the floor. Taking one flute, she holds it near mine. "What should we toast to?"

  "Pleasure."

  Her tongue sneaks out between her lips, gliding back and forth twice while her eyes get that glossy look. "I like that. To pleasure, then."

  We clink our glasses and take our sips.

  "Mm," she says, "I love the feel of the fizzy stuff in my mouth, and the way it sizzles down my throat."

  I empty my glass in one mouthful. And that "fizzy stuff" bubbles down my throat, making me cough.

  The angel in a bikini grins. "You're not supposed to gulp it. Haven't you ever had champagne before?"

  "Yes." But not while looking at a woman like her. I don't think there are any other women like her, anyway.

  She takes a dainty sip, peering at me over the rim of her glass. "Wouldn't you like to know my name?"

  I want that more than she could possibly know, but it's a ruddy awful idea. "That's not necessary. I'm leaving early in the morning, and we'll never see each other again. I'd rather not know too much about you."

  "Uh-huh." She taps her fingernail on her glass, studying me with squinted eyes. "I've never slept with a guy without knowing at least his first name."

  I lied, of course. I want to know everything about this woman, but getting to know her would only complicate things. My life has no room for dating. Work is all I have time for. And if I know her name, I have a feeling it will be even more difficult to walk away in the morning.

  My life has become complicated enough already.

  The bikini-clad goddess tosses back her entire glassful of champagne. She shudders, then laughs. "I like drinking bubbly your way. It makes me tingly all over."

  Though my mouth opens, I can't speak. Champagne makes her tingly all over? I can see her stiff nipples poking through her bikini top. I love those breasts. I imagine cradling one in my palm and wonder if it will fit perfectly. After the way she shuddered from drinking "bubbly," I want to close my mouth around her nipple and make her shiver for a different reason.

  "Enough champagne," I say, snatching her glass away and setting both flutes on the floor. "Where should we shag first?"

  "Good thing for you I know what 'shag' means to a Brit, or I might think you're inviting me to install wall-to-wall carpeting for you."

  "Carpeting?"

  "Yeah. Shag is a type of carpet fiber."

  "Oh. Yes, I know." But looking at her scrambles my brain. I should try to unscramble my thoughts, but I don't want to. Responsibility has been my primary concern for as long as I can remember, but it's gotten me precisely nowhere. Successful in business, yes. Well, mostly. Successful in the rest of my life? Not at all. Tonight, with this woman, I want to behave like an unrepentant rake.

  I slip an arm under her shirt to encircle her waist, tugging her into my body. "I meant that I want to make love to you, so where should we start? The bed seems awfully prosaic."

  She glances around, her bottom lip caught between her teeth. Then she leans into me, spreading her palms over my chest, the warmth of them penetrating my shirt. "Out there. On one of those chairs."

  "Where?"

  "Right over there, on the patio." She peels one hand away from me to point toward the pair of chaises that occupy the patio. "Out in the open. I've never done anything like that before. Isn't this what tropical vacations are for? Getting wild and dirty? I hope so, because I really want that."

  So do I. With her.

  "The patio it is," I say, and I strip off my clothes in record time, digging a condom packet out of my trouser pocket. I'd bought a box of those this afternoon too.

  My dirty angel pushes the see-through shirt off her shoulders, letting it fall to the floor. She kicks off her sandals. "Would you like to undress me, or should I do it?"

  Fuck, I want to strip her naked. To touch her. To taste her.

  I slide my arms under hers and take hold of the bow that keeps her bikini top in place. While I untie it, she gazes up at me with a dreamily lustful expression that sends what little blood I have left in my brain rushing down to my cock. I undo the smaller bow that secures the strap behind her neck, and the top flutters down to join her shirt on the floor.

  She molds her body to mine, those breasts mounding against my chest. "I want you, mystery man."

  And I want her, but my voice has stopped working again. Two more quick movements and I've undone the strings on her bikini bottom, then I grasp the fabric and tear it off her body, tossing it away.

  I guide her out onto the patio, stopping near the two chaises.

  "Lie down," she says. Then she leans in and purrs, "Please."

  How can I resist her? I can't, so I stretch out on the chaise.

  The naked goddess kneels over me, straddling my thighs. "Condom?"

  I suddenly realize I'm clutching the condom packet in my hand. I'd forgotten I even had the ruddy thing, but I thank heaven I held on to enough of my wits to remember we need protection. I raise the packet. "Here it is. Give me a minute to get it on."

  She snatches the packet away and holds it between two fingers, wiggling them at me. "Let me do it for you."

  Maybe if she stopped speaking in that sultry voice, I would realize letting her touch my cock is not
good for my self-control, but I don't care. She is speaking that way, and she's the sexiest woman in the world. I don't even care that I'm engaging in wild hyperbole.

  Taking the packet between her teeth, she tears it open.

  I need to fuck her. Right now. Since I can't, because she's kneeling over me, I have no choice but to watch while she pulls the condom out of the foil wrapping and rests her arse on my thighs. The first touch of her fingers on my cock robs me of breath. I struggle to regain it while my pulse accelerates and my erection throbs. She clasps my length, running her hand up and down it twice before she begins to roll the condom over me.

  And she takes her time.

  Grasping her hips, I follow every movement of her slender fingers with my gaze, transfixed by the sight of them dragging the latex down millimeter by millimeter until she's covered me.

  Once she's done, I lunge forward to capture her nipple, licking and suckling it. Her skin tastes salty, but sweet too. How a woman can taste sweet, I have no idea. She does, it drives me mad, and I don't give a toss why.

  "Yes," she breathes as she plunges her fingers into my hair to hold me to her breast.

  I shove my hands under her arse and urge her to rise onto her knees again. When she does, I keep my hands on those cheeks to drag her forward while I sit back against the chaise, never releasing her nipple. She grips the chair's back, but the part of her I want the most isn't properly positioned yet. I tug her bottom until she shimmies closer. I have to give up the flavor of her breast, but now her mound is in front of my face. Perfect.

  "You're so beautiful," I say, combing my fingers through the curly hairs that hide the flesh I want to devour. "I need to feast on you and make you come hard and fast, then I plan to bury myself inside your luscious body."

  "Please, yes, do anything you want."

  I pull her hips closer and shove my head between her legs, sealing my mouth around her taut bud. Her soft gasp drives me even madder, and I push a hand between her folds to stroke her wet flesh while I nip and lap at her nub, rolling my tongue around it. The flavor of her… I can't describe it. But I feel like I've drunk an entire bottle of vodka, too intoxicated to stop now even if I wanted to. I don't want to stop or slow down or think. No more rational thought. I need to make this woman scream.

  Her nails dig into my scalp while she clutches my head, panting and moaning and begging me to push her over the edge.

  I push a finger inside her.

  "Oh God!" she exclaims between sharp gasps.

  While I gorge myself on her clit, I slide another finger inside her, then another. I thrust them into her over and over like I'm fucking her—which I am, but not in the way I need to more than anything. Not yet.

  She freezes, not even gasping anymore.

  I know she's about to come. Desperate to give her that release, I reach up with my free hand to cup her breast and pinch the nipple.

  Her body pulses around my fingers, and she screams. Her cries echo off the patio walls. I'm positive other guests must hear it, but nothing else matters except coaxing every last bit of pleasure from her. Once her spasms fade, I pull away from her body, breathing almost as hard as she is.

  She bends down to crush her lips to mine, only for a second. "Your turn."

  "My what?" I ask, sounding dazed. Well, I bloody am dazed.

  The erotic angel impales her body on my cock, throwing her head back to let out a rough, loud groan. "You feel so damn good."

  "Ride me, love," I rasp. "Please, do it now before I lose control and, ah, go off prematurely."

  I haven't done that since I was a teenager, but no other woman has ever made me feel so…out of control.

  She starts moving, slowly at first, then increasing the pace with every rolling thrust of her hips. She's so slick, so hot, and her body wraps around mine like it was designed to fit me and only me. That's complete bollocks, but my lust-addled mind believes it. I love the look on her face—eyes half-closed, lips parted, cheeks flushed—and I love the way she lays her palms on my shoulders while she keeps fucking me. I grasp her hips, urging her to go faster and harder while our bodies generate a wet sucking sound. The climax starts in my spine, barreling downward like a runaway train, the pressure in my cock mounting until I know I won't last more than a few seconds longer.

  I shove my fingers between her folds and rub her clit.

  Her fingers clench my shoulders hard enough to cause pain, but I hardly notice it. Her head falls forward, bumping my forehead. "Yes, God, yes, I'm about to—"

  Every muscle inside her clamps down on my cock, again and again, the pulsating waves pushing me over the edge with her. While she cries out, I erupt inside her, powerless to stop myself from lunging my hips up to penetrate her body so thoroughly that the tip of my cock grazes her inner wall. I come while I'm buried so deep inside her that it's almost like we've merged, and pleasure slams through me, hotter and more intense than anything I've known before.

  She collapses against me, her chest heaving, her head on my shoulder.

  I've gone limp too, but I marshal just enough strength to wind my arms around her. I'm still nestled inside her body, but I don't have any physical energy left to remedy that. Not that I want to, anyway. She feels so bloody wonderful. We lie there like that for a few minutes, I think. With no clock to tell me the time, I have no idea how long I've cradled this incredible woman in my arms while we both recover from life-altering sex.

  Finally, I turn us onto our sides, facing each other, and pull out of her body.

  She smiles like a woman who's thoroughly satisfied and relaxed. "That was amazing. Thank you."

  "No, thank you. I've never shagged a woman on a patio chaise, and I've never come so hard for any other woman."

  "Mm, it was mind-blowing for me too."

  I brush sweaty hairs away from her cheek. "Stay with me all night. Please. I need to enjoy your body several more times before I leave for the airport."

  "Love to stay." She catches my bottom lip between her teeth and teases it with her tongue, then lets it go. "Can we have more champagne?"

  "Absolutely. And I'll order dinner for us." I trace a fingertip down her cheek. "We'll eat in bed."

  "Yes, definitely." She sits up and stretches, giving me a lovely view of her tits from underneath. "I need the bathroom first, though."

  While she wanders off to do that, I marvel at what's happened to me today. I'd been ready to take a swim, alone, and then embark on my pointless trip to a different beach where Dexter would stand me up. After that, I would've hidden in my suite all night. I'm still leaving at six o'clock in the morning. I will never see this woman again. It's for the best since my life leaves no room for a relationship, and besides, no decent woman would want to get entangled in the mess that is my world.

  But for tonight, I have a passionate angel in my arms.

  That's right, you arse, so enjoy it.

  Yes, I mean to do that all night. Who cares about sleeping? I can do that on the plane.

  Chapter Three

  Maddie

  I wake up in the morning alone in an enormous bed, tangled in the sheets. If I'm going to wake up hogtied by Egyptian cotton, I want to feel a hot man lying beside me. But no, I don't get to do that. My mystery man skulked out while I was asleep, though I probably shouldn't characterize it as skulking since he told me he would leave at six o'clock. I tried to stay awake to say goodbye, but my brain had other ideas. It said, "Sleep." So I slept.

  The reason I got wiped out involves more than hours of fantastic sex. My companion fell asleep first, so I took the opportunity to, um…snoop. What? He wouldn't tell me his name, and my scientist brain needs to know. I thrive on facts, not cloak-and-dagger stuff. So yeah, I poked around until I found his wallet with his UK driver's license tucked inside it. It looks a lot like an American license, though they format dates a little differently. The license has his photo—and of course, he looks gorgeous in that picture, unlike everyone else in
the world who looks like a depressed criminal in a driver's license photo. Well, I look that way, at least.

  The most important fact on his license is his name. Last night, I slept with Richard Cornelius Hunter. He lives in someplace called Colchester. I hadn't brought my phone with me to this rendezvous, so I can't google the name of that town to find out where exactly it is. I'll do that once I get back to my room.

  Does it even matter now? He's gone. We had mind-blowing sex, I snooped in his wallet, and he sneaked out while I was asleep. End of story. I need to move on and forget about Richard Cornelius Hunter, though I plan to hold the memory of last night in my mind forever. I'm not a sentimental idiot. It's like a mental souvenir, that's all.

  I file that memory away in my mind, stretch, and swing my legs over the bed's edge. My soles meet the cool wood floor, and I wiggle my toes to enjoy the sensation. My gaze drifts to the side of the room that's completely open to the outdoors and the fiery glow of the sun rising behind the building where I can't see it. I raise my arms high above my head and stretch again, sighing with contentment. Maybe I should be embarrassed by what I did last night, but all I feel is good. For the first time in ages, I did not think about work for almost an entire day.

  Even during the hours between when I met Richard and when we spent the night together, I did not think about my job. I strolled along the beach, enjoyed the scenery, had a fabulous massage in the resort spa, and read a book. Yep, I did that. The workaholic scientist read an entire romance novel in three hours. Sure, it had been a short book. A novella, I guess they call it. Still, I read it in one sitting, taking breaks only to pee and to get a bottle of water. I sat on the resort veranda and read.

  That book had been hot, but nowhere near as scorching as last night.

  How many times did Richard and I have sex? I lost count. We enjoyed each other in the pool, on the sofa, and finally in bed—twice. We also made inventive use of our mouths and hands to make each other come, so yeah, I can't say for sure how many orgasms were involved. I've never had that much sex in one night. It's left me a little sore, but in a good way. The soreness will be a temporary memento of the best night of my life.