The Rock Star's Baby Bargain - Lili Valente Page 0,17
my mind off her thighs and how much I want to be between them.
“The sperm bank I went to didn’t have any redheads in their catalog,” she says, eyes dancing as she steers her lime around her gin and tonic with a slim black straw. “They screened them out.”
“Bastards,” I murmur over the rim of my glass as I take a deep drink. I swallow and add, “But I’m not surprised.”
“Really?” Her brows lift. “I was. What’s wrong with redheads?”
“Aside from the fact that we’re all descended from devils and witches, are genetic mutants, and have a low tolerance for pain?”
She laughs, a husky sound that goes straight to my dick. “Right, aside from all that.” She scrunches her nose. “People don’t really think things like that, do they?”
I shrug. “I don’t know, but I’ve heard from a decent number of women that they usually don’t go for men with red hair.”
Colette’s lips curve in a smirk. “Oh yeah? But they make an exception for you? How generous of them.”
I arch a wry brow. “I’m sure the fact that I used to play for one of the biggest bands in the world helped my redheaded self in the getting laid department.”
“I’m sure, but the anti-redhead thing is still ridiculous. I honestly can’t imagine what the problem is. Red hair is lovely.”
“I think it’s the pale skin and freckles that are the major deal-breakers,” I say. “Growing up a redhead in a beach town wasn’t always easy. My grandmother spent a king’s ransom on sunscreen to protect my pasty ass.”
“I don’t think you’re pasty,” Colette says. “And I like freckles. The ones on your forearms are sexy.”
She traces a finger across the back of my hand and up my arm while I fight the urge to flex like a cheesy bastard. This woman brings out the primal, stupid part of me like no one I’ve ever met.
I need an intervention.
I should call my friend Shep, tell him I’m a danger to myself in my present state, and ask him to come to pick me up before I do something stupid. The hotel is three hours from Hidden Kill Bay, and Shep is probably sitting down to dinner with his wife right now, but he’d get me if I asked him to.
He’s that kind of friend, the kind who says he’s there for you, no matter what, and truly means it.
But I don’t reach for my phone; I reach for Colette’s thigh, letting my hand curve around her soft, warm skin. I watch hunger flicker behind her incomparable eyes, and instantly, I’m hard again.
If the hostess calls us to our table now, I’m going to embarrass myself, but I don’t care.
“Do you have freckles anywhere else?” she asks in a voice that sounds as lust-drunk as I feel. “I know I’ve seen you in a swimsuit before, but I wasn’t paying close enough attention back then.”
“But you’re paying attention now?”
“Oh yeah.” She nods slowly. “So much attention. All the attention. In fact, I’m afraid I have a bit of a one-track mind right now, Zackary.”
“I’m afraid I do, too, Colette.” My fingertips press deeper into her thigh, and her breath catches on a moan so soft I can barely hear it.
But I do hear it, and it makes me even hotter, harder.
“That’s not good. One of us should be in their right mind.” She leans in, granting me a heart-stopping view down the deep V at the front of her dress. “Is there anything I can do to help you get grounded? You really should be thinking logically before we go upstairs.”
“I should,” I murmur. “But all I can think about is getting my mouth all over you.”
Her tongue slips out, sweeping across her bottom lip. “God, I want that. So much. Your mouth and your hands and—”
Her words end in a moan as I cut her off with a kiss. My lips slant across hers, and my tongue sweeps into her mouth, tasting gin and lime and this woman. She’s sweet and tart, like ripe summer grapefruit and sea salt licked from sun-warmed skin.
The moment her tongue circles mine, I know we’re not going to make it to dinner.
And then she whispers, “I know it’s crazy, but I swear I want you inside me more than I’ve ever wanted anything,” and I’m in motion.
I vaguely remember tossing two twenties on the bar and taking Colette’s hand, but I don’t fully catch up with myself until I’m tugging the hotel key from