But she suddenly wanted more than just a night of hot sex with a gorgeous guy.
She wanted to experience it as Nicola. Not Nico. Which meant she needed to get them out of there as soon as possible, before anyone came up and asked for an autograph or a picture with her.
“I’m not in the mood to dance tonight,” she began, before realizing, “I don’t know your name."
She liked the way he reached out and brushed a lock of hair out of her eyes, liked it even more when he said, “My name is Marcus. And I’m not in the mood to dance, either.”
She supposed there were lots of things they could both say to each other. Things like, Should we get out of here? or Why don’t we go back to my hotel? But, amazingly, Nicola realized those words, those questions and answers, weren’t necessary.
Everything they’d needed to say to each other had already been said.
In one look.
In one touch.
Her skin burned where he’d touched her, his fingertips rougher than she’d thought they would be, given his clothes. She’d felt calluses and strength in that one brush across her skin. The thought of being touched like that—with those hands—on even more sensitive parts of her body had heat blooming inside of her in places that never usually got that hot.
Following the instinct that had brought her this far, Nicola turned without another word and began to move back to the door through which she’d just entered. A moment later, Marcus’s large, warm hand was on the small of her back as he followed her. She often traveled to events with her bodyguard, a man who was even bigger than Marcus. But she’d never felt so safe, so protected.
And never this tingly, head to toe.
The sizzling warmth from the spot on her lower back where he was holding his hand against her quickly spread down her hips and across to her stomach and br**sts.
The music was still playing, louder than before, perhaps, but all she could hear was the beating of her own heart. All she knew was that she wanted this night with Marcus more than she’d wanted anything in a very long time.
In the back of her mind she knew that what she was doing was stupid, not just because of the pictures that would surface of her with a “mystery man,” but because she shouldn’t be leaving a club with a man she knew nothing whatsoever about. For all she knew, he was a sadistic murderer out trolling for his next decapitation victim. But the way he was touching her, so carefully and yet with such assurance—along with the way he’d gently stroked her face—made her want to trust her initial instincts about him.
Fortunately, just as a group of people started pointing at her and talking excitedly, a taxi pulled up. Marcus opened the door for her and she let her hair fall in front of her face to hide her profile from the driver, just in case he took one look at her and blew her cover as a regular person.
Her gut churned as she slid inside, then tightened down hard as her soon-to-be-lover joined her on the ripped leather seat and she realized just how big he really was. Compared to most of the anorexic singers and actresses she knew, Nicola had never felt tiny before. But sitting next to Marcus made her feel shockingly small and feminine.
He was so big, had so much presence, she swore there wasn’t enough oxygen left in the car for her and the driver to pull from.
“Where to?” the driver asked, giving them a blank look in the rearview mirror.
The stranger’s voice broke the spell that had pulled her toward Marcus from that first glance.
Oh God, what she was doing?
Yes, she wanted him. Desperately.
Yes, she was lonely. Terribly.
But neither of those things were enough reason to act like an idiot or to put herself in a dangerous position. After all, look what had happened when she’d trusted her instincts with Kenny. What he’d done hadn’t only hurt her, it had ended up hurting her family, too. She could still hardly believe her mother had lost her position on the school board, that the community had dared to accuse her of not being a good role model for the other parents because she’d obviously made huge mistakes in teaching her own daughter right from wrong.
Nicola put her hand on the door handle, readying herself to escape out the other side. “I’m sorry. I can’t do this. I don’t know you."
He didn’t try to stop her, didn’t put a hand on her to keep her from opening the door. Instead, he pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and handed it to her.
“Call anyone in here."
Unable to believe what he was offering, she left the door ajar an inch. “Seriously?”
“Call them all if you have to. Ask them about me. Ask them anything.”
Surely he was kidding around. Who did something like this? Just handed over their cell phone and said to call any number on it to do a background check on him?
“You really want me to surprise dial someone in your address book and say, ‘Hey there, I’m some girl your friend Marcus is leaving a club with. Could you tell me all about him, please?’”