Second Chance Layover by Sandra Bunino & Lila Shaw

Author:Sandra Bunino & Lila Shaw
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: friends to lovers, airport layover, online dating, geocaching, chicago, travel romance, romance short, dating apps, sexy romance, travel fiction
Publisher: Spencer Imaginarium

Cal ~

I shoved my room card into my pocket and headed to the elevator, the first step to making my way to the third floor, to room 312, to Charli’s room. I slapped my palm against the elevator button. What was taking the stupid thing so long?

What would she be wearing when she opened her door? Would she invite me in or would I have to finesse my way inside? Would she want to talk first, to get in the mood and shed any nerves, or would she expect me to pounce? A man could hope.... God did I hope.

An image of Charli stretched out naked on the crisp white sheets curled sensuously through my thoughts before slithering down my spine to tease my more primitive brain. The image expanded and took on the scent of coffee and lust. My mouth watered at the taste of her skin, her lips, her nipples, pink and taut with her arousal, her pussy wet and ready for me. Echoes of ecstasy joined the daydream.

I slammed the elevator button three more times. “Come on, come on.”

Maybe she’d have a sheet pulled up over her breasts. Maybe she’d lie on her bed, every inch of her delectable body exposed, and crook her finger at me. I’d take my time walking to her, fucking her with my eyes and fighting every instinct to leap on her and pound her into the mattress. Anticipation fizzed through my veins. Was the same hurricane of want overwhelming her?

The elevator dinged and the doors opened. Only a single occupant stood in the car, a lock of hair twirling between her fingers the only hint of nerves that couldn’t possibly be as jangled as mine.

Charli opened her mouth to speak. No words came out.

I charged into the elevator. I didn’t think. I didn’t weigh risk and reward or ponder consequences. I didn’t ask. I didn’t hesitate. I took.

I didn’t offer her the possibility of protesting, of saying “no”. She was in my arms before my brain even registered that I’d slammed her against the back wall of the elevator and was kissing the living daylights out of her.

And when the first coherent thoughts clawed their way through the red haze of lust and desire, I realized she held me as tightly as I held her. Her fingers gripped my hair and held my mouth against hers. She hitched a leg up around my hip. My hands cupped her luscious ass and lifted her up. Both legs wrapped around my waist. Adrenalin flooded my system and powered my muscles because she felt no heavier than a cat, a lithe languorous cat purring in my arms.

I plundered her mouth with my lips and tongue. God, she took everything I gave and returned it in multiples.

Between kisses, she squeezed out, “I didn’t—”

“I want you,” I said, my voice hoarse with need.

“Oh, thank God,” she said smiling. With both of her palms pressed against my cheeks, her forehead against mine, tiny puffs of air from her laughter caressed my mouth.

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