Then everything changed.

It happened so fast that she didn't have time to think. One minute she was holding on to being sensible Chloe, smart, sane, safe, her life as it always had been. Then the next she whispered, "Kiss me."

One long beat of silence passed before a tremor raced through him.

She was being forward and inexcusably loose. But like a dam of restraint had finally broken apart, water rushing through crashing at her defenses, she didn't care. She wanted to lose herself in his arms, just this once, with this stranger who would disappear from her life when it was over.

Tonight, just tonight, she didn't want to be sensible or even smart. She wanted to be free and wild, and filled with unchecked desire.

Frustration kicked inside her when he didn't kiss her. He only looked at her, didn't reach out. He took her in, and she cringed at the sudden thought that even made up and not looking anything like her usual boring self, he wasn't attracted to her.

What an idiot to think that a man this strong and handsome and clearly powerful, would want her-even with no names mentioned or strings attached.

"Oh, God, I've completely made a fool of myself. I'm sorry." She tried to get down off the counter, the

movement reminding her of the scrapes on her knees.

"You haven't made a fool of yourself," he said, his voice ruggedly insistent, his body blocking her way.

"You are beautiful and desirable-"

Her snort was a knee jerk reaction, the old Chloe surging back ruthlessly.

"-but you don't know the first thing about me."

That stopped her. She cocked her head and studied him. Was he testing her?

"You don't know me either," she whispered. She met his eyes, and she bit her lip for a trembling second.

"That's the point."

She startled him, and from the look of him she guessed he was rarely surprised.

His brows slammed together. "I could be a ..."

"What? A murderer?"

"I am not a murderer." He sounded put out.

"Okay, then a Mexican bandit?" She tried to smile.

"Are we living in the same century?"

He looked at her lips again, despite his better intentions, and she could see something that her inexpert

eyes swore was desire. Hope surged and she felt an impatient anticipation.

"Would it help," she asked breathlessly, "if I promised that I'm not a bandit?"

She expected him to laugh, or at the very least smile. Instead his gaze darkened. "I'm not so sure about

that. With your innocent blue eyes and mouth meant for sin, you look like you could easily steal something I've never been willing to give," he stated cryptically.

But before she could question him, he groaned and cursed. Then this stranger pulled her into his arms. They clung together, the warmth of his body surrounding her. Their kiss grew instantly hot, their mouths slanting together as if neither of them could get close enough. His hands ran down her spine and she knew with a heady sense of certainty that whatever his reasons for kissing her, this wasn't about pity.

She wrapped her arms around his shoulders. She didn't admit how many times she had imagined something like this. In her dreams, in her fantasies. Giving in to a forbidden passion. He ran his tongue along her lips, opening her more. Their tongues tasted and probed as she tugged his shirt-tails from his pants, wanting to feel skin.

"Who are you?" he whispered hoarsely against her ear.

She hesitated for a second then said, "Does it matter?"

She didn't wait for an answer. She ran her hands up his chest, material gathering against her wrists, and after another second he gave in again.

"Wrap your legs around me," he commanded in a gruff voice.

A sharp thrill ran along every nerve ending, centering deep and low. She did as he asked, then felt a shiver of excitement as he unzipped the back of her dress, the beaded skirt riding higher until it came up around her hips, the top sliding lower until it revealed the curve of her breasts.

He picked her up and wheeled her around, pressing her back against the finely papered wall. Then he dipped his head, that dark hair brushing against her as he trailed his lips along her skin.

"God, you are soft."

Lower and lower until he took one nipple in his mouth. He had exuded raw sensuality just tending to her wounds. Now, with his intent purely sexual, there was an animal fierceness to him that scared her as much as it thrilled her.

White hot electricity pulsed through her, every nerve ending tingling. Struggling, she tugged her arms from the restraint of her dress, the beads bunching in cool heaviness against her hips. When she was finally free, she reached up, wrapping her arms around his shoulders as his thumbs found her nipples. She felt hungry and needy in a purely physical way.

She groaned without an ounce of inhibition when his thumb and forefinger closed on one taut peak. She trembled inside and her head fell back against the wall. Then he ripped off his shirt, lowering her just a bit and it was in a moment of gasping surprise that she felt the hard contours of his naked chest against her breasts. She felt alive and captive at the same time, pleasure heightened by the illicitness of what they were doing.

Reaching up, she tangled her fingers in his hair, instinctively arching to him as he seared his mouth across her body. When he gently sucked one breast, her hands knotted and she had to force herself to let go.

Neither of them said a word. They came together in a dance of silence. Slowly, he let her down until she stood, her dress falling to her ankles. His mouth nipped at her skin. He cupped her bottom, the thin edges of a thong she had secretly purchased doing little to separate them. Palms to flesh, his fingertips curled low until she felt him touch the juncture between her spread thighs.

The contact surprised her. At first she felt self-conscious. She started to break free. But that was the old Chloe. The one she'd find again once she walked out the door and never saw this man again. But right now she wanted to let go. While she had the chance. No one ever had to know.

Drawing a breath, she widened her legs. His deep guttural moan brought an answering cry welling up in her. She felt desperate, like this was her only chance. She wanted more of him, wanted to be closer. He must have sensed it in her. He pressed their bodies together. He kissed her again, his hands coming up to frame her face as his mouth reclaimed hers.

He nipped at her lower lip before teasing it open, allowing him in to taste her more intimately. She didn't realize she had moaned until the sound rumbled in her ears. She felt small and cherished, even beautiful. Her hair was wild, but the way he held her made her feel as if he could hold her forever and he'd be lucky.

His hands slid down her neck to her shoulders. The heels of his hands grazed the tops of her breasts, but not lower. The tips of his fingers brushed over her collarbones, back and forth as he kissed her. She thought she would cry out in frustration before he finally cupped her breasts in his palms.

He pressed them high, his fingers brushing over the peaks, circling. She felt his breath against her ear when he ran his tongue along the delicate shell. Then his thumb and forefinger closed with gentle insistence, over her nipple. Pulsing, once, twice, his tongue dancing the same rhythm in her mouth. She felt everything in the core between her legs. Hot and needy.

When she groaned, he secured her spread eagle against the wall, his hands touching her, worshipping her . . . wanting her. Cupping her hips, he pulled her to his hardness, again and again, in that rhythm prescribed by his tongue.

She trembled, stunned by the strength of her need. His breath on her nape was like wind to a fire.

He cupped her jaw, tilting her face to him. "I want you," he whispered.

His voice was laced with the sound of raw hunger. "I want you, too," she answered.

And when he started to undo his belt, she reached down to help, their fingers tangling together.

Frantic, they tugged at the buckle and leather, and the sound of the door banging against the lock didn't reach her at first. Her world consisted of this stranger and his hands on her bare skin. But something must have registered with him because he cursed and tore away from her.

With a sudden flash, she realized people must be gathered just outside of the door. She could hear them talking, some woman complaining that the hotel shouldn't lock the only bathroom they had in the main lobby. Then someone else who told them to step back, followed by a jangle of keys against the lock.

"Oh, my gosh!" she gasped.

Thankfully her stranger wasn't paralyzed. He immediately whipped up her shimmery dress, whirled her around and had her zipped back up with the proficiency of a dresser at a Broadway play. Just as the keys turned in the lock, he had his own clothes back in place.

"Let me handle this," he stated, stepping in front of her to block her from view.

He stood like a warrior, his stance wide, his features dark, his frame massive and forbidding. If anyone could protect her from embarrassment, this man could.

But Chloe was hardly paying attention. With her heart in her throat, she lowered her head, tucking in her chin. Her heart beat like a drum, pulsing through her, and the second the door opened, she flew into action. She wheeled out from behind him, startling the small crowd who had gathered, and dashed for the door.

She felt badly leaving the stranger to deal with the mess, though not badly enough to stay. But just when she got through the crowd, for one quick second, she looked back. He was looking at her, his hard-chiseled face quickly shifting from surprise to anger when he understood what she had done. A shiver of regret raced through her. He didn't look like the type of man any sane person should anger. She prayed she never saw him again.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR.

Award-winning author Linda Francis Lee is a native Texan now calling New York City home. She lives in Manhattan with her husband, Michael. Her romance novels have been nominated for numerous awards, including the prestigious RITA Award. Looking for Lacey, a national bestseller, is the first of several books set in her Texas hometown.

Readers can write to Linda Francis Lee at P.O. Box 231310, New York, NY 10023, or visit her website at www.lindafrancislee.com.

Three friends, three sexy novels: Get swept away by Linda Francis Lee. Sinfully Sexy and Simply Sexy coming soon!

end.