HazardsDare by Frances Stockton Page B

dry?”
    “Stylist taught me to wrap it up in a big towel. And I used
cool water.”
    “Clever,” he said.
    Caught up in appreciating him, she discovered what she loved
about him was that he wasn’t too muscular to put his arms down or too big to
wrap her arms around. He was a tall man, yes, and capable of crushing an
offensive lineman and smashing QBs to the turf. That required stamina, skill
and agility, not just overly developed muscle.
    And he had a light-brown dusting of chest hair in the shape
of a T across his chest, thinning out at his navel and disappearing behind the
towel. She absolutely loved that about him, thinking it made him more male,
more real, instead of a cookie-cutter stud.
    A stud with ripped abs she longed to lick and nibble. She
couldn’t fathom how she’d gotten to be the one standing here with him. But
she’d take it and love it, living for each moment, each kiss and touch.
    His hand had come up to stroke through her straightened
hair. She loved it when it was silky soft like this and unexpectedly accepted
the beautician’s suggestion for pale-blonde highlights and brown lowlights.
    “I do like your hair, Avery. Just remember, it’s okay to let
it get curly when you’re ready. I’d like to see it untamed.”
    Continuing to stroke her hair, he spread his fingers out
like a makeshift comb, running them smoothly through her locks. Hypnotized by
his rhythmic touch, she didn’t think to stop him when his head dipped closer
and his mouth took hers in a kiss so sweet she sighed at the pleasure of it.
    He tasted like cinnamon toothpaste and smelled like hotel
soap and temptation. “The food,” she uttered between kisses, having her voice
swallowed by Hazard’s tongue.
    Seduced by Hazard’s kiss, she couldn’t let it end.
    “We’ve a microwave,” he said, easing up, but speaking the
words against her lips so that she felt them.
    “You’re hungry.”
    “So are you,” he added, snagging her lip and biting it.
    “Ow,” she gasped, even as he erased the sting with a full-on
French kiss.
    “Sorry, baby,” he apologized upon freeing her. “Can’t seem
to get enough of you.”
    “Missed me, did you, Hazard?”
    “Yes.” Jerking away a measure or two, he looked down at her.
His eyes were soft, heavy lidded. Bedroom eyes, some women called them. “Are
you too hungry to fuck? If you are, stop me now.”
    Avery started when she realized his free hand had wedged
between their hips to make a go at undoing the belt of her robe. “I didn’t
think men could get hard this often. Will it hurt you if we keep up this pace?”
    “More like I’ll end up with blue balls if I don’t get inside
you again real soon,” he admitted.
    “Oh dear.” She couldn’t very well let that happen. Impulsive
as she could be by nature, she was a caretaker and it went against her creed to
let a man be in pain.
    Hazard kissed her again, silencing further objection. It
wasn’t as if she’d put up much of a fight. She wasn’t all that sure what she
was resisting anyway.
    His tongue entered her mouth, seeking hers. Avery answered,
twirling her tongue around his, letting the dance of seduction progress. His
knee slid between her bare thighs, pushing up against her pussy. Need coiled
within, drawing so taut, she began shifting her hips in unison with Hazard’s in
search of relief.
    “Hazard, do something,” she commanded when all he did was
free her lips to touch his kisses to her throat, the roughened razor stubble on
his chin and jaw brushing her skin.
    He knew. He must have known that the five o’clock shadow
drove her crazy insane with wanting, even as his teeth nipped her skin, leaving
a hot sting that vibrated outward and turned her on.
    The knot of her belt fell apart, the robe opening with a
nudge of his hand. A swish of cloth made her glance down. His towel fell to the
floor. Blinking twice, she thought she saw double.
    She wasn’t having vision trouble. His towel and her robe
were a sage-green