Box of 1Night Stands: 21 Sizzling Nights Page 4

  “Don’t be afraid.”

  Did he have to look so sincere? He couldn’t actually be suggesting they should see each other again. “Why wouldn’t I be afraid?” She glanced around him to make sure they were alone then lowered her voice to a whisper. “We had a one-night stand. Not exactly the foundation for a solid relationship.”

  He scowled. “It may have started out that way, but it ended as more than that.”

  “It was only sex.” God, she wished he’d leave before she started crying again. Which she promptly did anyway. “Please go away. You’re making this so much more difficult than it has to be.”

  “Running away is more difficult than being with me?” He shook his head as though he knew better. “Don’t run from me, Leah.”

  Her heart leapt at the sweet words. He was right. Running away was useless and exhausting. After a year of loneliness, she’d be a fool to deny his offer. He’d proven to be kind, intelligent and sexy. Maybe not such a bad foundation after all. When he continued to stroke her cheek, she leaned into his strong hand. “What do you want?”

  “I want to see where this takes us.” He bent his head and gently kissed her. “Let me help you feel again.

  ~ABOUT THE AUTHOR~

  Valerie Mann has lived from sea to shining sea and currently resides in Raleigh, North Carolina. She has her own romance hero husband, five children, and two lazy cats. She started writing when she figured out her school chums would listen to her stories, with “The Stolen Ring”, a riveting tale about a ring stolen from a museum gumball machine, being her first critical success. Between family, authorly stuff, managing and editing for an electronic publisher and whatever else she can cram into a day, she’s having lots of fun! She loves to hear from her readers! ValerieMann09@yahoo.com

  You can visit Valerie at her website:

  www.valeriemann.com

  Broken

  A 1Night Stand Story

  By

  NY Times and USA Today Bestselling Author

  Diane Alberts

  Also by Diane Alberts

  Kill Me Tomorrow

  Reclaimed

  Absolution

  Escape to Me

  ~DEDICATION~

  This one goes to all the military heroes serving our country. Without you, America could not be free. Without you, I wouldn’t be able to write this book. From the bottom of my heart, thank you.

  And to all of the Marines I have met, and lost, in my life—I will never forget.

  Chapter One

  Matt sighed, moving his wheelchair into the elevator while attempting to fight down the dread threatening to overwhelm him. Why had he allowed his team to book him a pointless date when his heart didn’t feel ready? Since returning from Afghanistan with useless legs—and losing his fiancée to boot—he didn’t feel like romancing the ladies.

  He’d get what he came here for—sex—and maneuver his chair the hell out of this elegant hotel. His “date” would likely be grateful for his hasty exit. Who would want a crippled war hero who woke up screaming once a night lingering around, anyway?

  Not Sara. Less than a month after his return, she’d run off as if the devil himself chased her. Not like Matt could have caught her. He couldn’t even walk, let alone run. Besides, why would he want her back when she couldn’t stand the sight of him? He’d left home a virile man and returned an invalid. Not many people could handle the result of what he’d suffered in the war.

  With no family or loved ones nearby to help, his squad feared he’d fallen into depression, and he suspected they were right. Not that he’d admit it. Hell, no. No man worth their respect cried to a bunch of Marine snipers. Not unless he wanted pity, and he damn well didn’t need that. He got enough of it from strangers every day.

  The knowing stares, the humiliating rush to hold the door open for him. Every last bit of kindness ate him raw. Why, in this great country, did a soldier need to be injured to garner attention? Plenty of men in his squad deserved it more than he did.

  His agony stood out more.

  Enlisting in the Marines, he had known the risks he incurred when he’d signed his name on the dotted line. Known he might lose his life. But instead, in an odd twist of fate, he’d lost his legs. He hadn’t had a contingency plan for that.

  Oh, well. Cry me a river, build a bridge, and drive the hell over it.

  Life moved on. Even now, his team prepared to return overseas, minus him. There wasn’t much a crippled man in a wheelchair could do in war. Besides be a target.

  Hearing a delicate sniff, he glanced over his shoulder in surprise. He’d been so distracted he hadn’t noticed the gorgeous woman standing in the corner behind him. Black-framed glasses perched on her nose, her delicate features surrounded by wispy blonde hair that cascaded to her shoulders. Her skimpy red dress bared an unbelievable amount of golden, tanned skin.

  Thank God for hot California nights.

  When her green eyes met his, he stopped breathing at her sheer beauty. Once upon a time, he’d have taken advantage of the moment. First a sly smile, followed by an even smarter pick-up line. After a few drinks, he’d have been between her legs.

  He’d been whole then. Now, he’d be lucky if he could entice anyone to screw him without the help of Madame Eve’s service, let alone someone as stunning as his elevator goddess.

  She smiled and studied him. Frowning at the lust raising certain parts of his body, he lowered his attention to his clenched hands. No way in hell he’d be caught looking at her again, no matter how much she tempted him. He didn’t need to observe her pity as he wheeled out of her life.

  “Were you injured in the war?” Her musical tones startled him. She’d moved so softly, he hadn’t heard her approach.

  He cleared his throat. “Um, yes. Afghanistan.”

  “My brother’s in the Army. He’s heading overseas in two weeks. Are you Army?”

  I’m nothing, anymore.

  He shook his head. His voice came out more curt than he’d intended. “No. Marines.”

  “Ooh-rah,” she murmured. She studied the numbers and clucked her tongue. This left him free to study her profile, marveling at her perfection…and the curve of her cheek.

  If only he could….

  No point finishing such a futile thought. He couldn’t. And wouldn’t.

  The bell dinged for the fourth floor. His fingers tight on the wheels; he headed into the hallway without another word to the gorgeous blonde. With each roll that brought him closer to his date, his nervousness increased, making his arms shaky and weak. He hoped the woman awaiting him knew her date would be a useless cripple. And if God had any pity, she’d be nothing like the intimidating woman in the elevator.

  ***

  Tiffany tossed her hair over her shoulder and stepped out into the hallway. Palms sweating, she darted a glance at his back. He studied a paper in his lap, seeming unaware of her presence. It appeared that he had no clue his date for the night had stood right next to him, ready to be his. As soon as she’d laid eyes on him, she’d known who he was. His black hair and light blue eyes stood out like a beacon in the night.

  He looks even hotter in person than in his picture.

  She cleared her throat. His head snapped up. His scowl didn’t make her feel warm and fuzzy.

  “Yes?” he snapped.

  When he studied her, she panicked. His presence commanded obedience. An urge to stand at attention and salute came over her, and she stifled a giggle. Twirling the key in her trembling fingers, she lowered her face in an attempt to relieve some of her building sexual tension. His body exuded power and masculinity, leaving her quaking inside. Rational thought fled as his stare roamed over her body.

  Her mouth opened and closed, but all she managed to emit was a little, terrified squeak. She cleared her throat, wishing for coherent speech to return.

  Buck up, Blondie!

  “Um. I-I wanted to see—”

  “Look, lady, I’m fine. I don’t need assistance to open a door. Just shoo a
long and find your room. I’m sure you have someone waiting for you.” She raised her head, and her breathing skittered to a stop at his arrogant stare. He examined her from head to toe, and returned his attention to the paper in his lap, finished talking to her.

  Grinding her teeth together, she closed the short distance separating them and gripped his arm as it spun the wheel. The contact shot bolts of lust up her arm and straight down to her stomach. She bit her lip, stifling a moan. “Indeed, someone is waiting for me.”

  “I suggest you find him and leave me be.” He flung her hold off.

  She scowled, resting her palms on the arms of his wheelchair. He gaped at her close proximity, and his eyes darkened. She cast a quick glance at his lap, grinning at the sight of his erection straining against his pants.

  Good. She’d affected him, too.

  At least my arousal isn’t as obvious.

  She’d need to be strong to win him over. Even if she had paid for the right to be in his bed all night long. Leaning in until her lips stopped an inch from his ear, she whispered, “I already found him.”

  At his indrawn breath, she pulled back. Invading his personal space was a chancy move, but one she deemed necessary to crack his tough outer shell. Lips compressed, he jerked the chair backward, making her stumble while struggling to regain her balance.

  “I’m flattered.” His tone suggested otherwise, as did his clenched jaw. “But I don’t need a pity fuck. I’m sure you can find someone more up to your standards in this big hotel, and I already have a date. So, if you’ll excuse me…?”

  Maneuvering around her, he started down the hallway. She stared after him.

  Pity fuck? Seriously? Had he looked in the mirror? He might be in a wheelchair, but he sure as hell didn’t fall into the category of a man in need of any such mercy. Heck, she’d had to force herself not to leap upon his lap when she saw her effect on him.

  She knew all about pushing people away out of self-defense. And he, whether he knew it or not, feared rejection—from her. Which led her to suspect he feared the same from other females, as well.

  Shrugging, she followed him down the hallway, more determined than ever to convince him of her desire. This time, he heard her footsteps behind him, if the tight line of his shoulders was any indication. His knuckles were white on the wheels, and his biceps flexed from the force he used.

  She grinned. “I can see you don’t need any help. You move with a strength few men possess.”

  “Most men can walk. Stop mocking me.”

  She shook her head. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

  “Ridiculous?” His tone cut through her like a knife, halting her. He spun around, brow furrowed, face beet red. “I’m being ridiculous?”

  She lifted her chin, meeting his glare with one of her own. “Yes, you are. Any woman can see you’re dominant, and would be a hell of a good time in bed.”

  He paled and gripped the wheels so tight she feared they might snap. “Knock it off.”

  He went down the hallway, but she jumped in his path. Her voice rose in frustration. “What? What did I say to insult you? I’ve done nothing but compliment you, while you’ve insulted me from the elevator to here. I’m not certain why you’re so mad.”

  She placed her palms on her hips and tapped her foot.

  “I’m angry because you won’t leave me alone. I’m irritated because you think you can follow me around to harass me because I'm crippled. I might not be able to stalk away from you, but I’ll run over your fucking feet if you don’t move right now.”

  “Man, you have a lot of fury built up inside you. I can think of better ways to relive the tension than arguing in the hallway.” She toyed with a lock of her hair and smiled as he followed the movement. “Why don’t we go into our room?”

  “I told you—” When he digested her words, he gawked at her. He returned his stare to her face. “What do you mean; our room?”

  “Oh, didn’t I mention I’m your date?”

  He groaned and dropped his head into his hands. “From 1Night Stand? Tiffany?”

  “Yup. And you’re Matt?”

  “Son of a bitch.”

  She frowned as she studied his shoulders. He still hadn’t moved. Stepping forward, she forced lightheartedness to her tone. Had she already disappointed him? She often annoyed people with the lack of filter in her head. She didn’t speak in a mean manner—but her ex had told her she could try the patience of a saint.

  She blamed it on her job. When one’s occupation depended upon words and honesty, the habit bled over into her personal life.

  “Am I so unsatisfactory?” Reaching out, she hesitated then rested a palm on his shoulder, flinching as his muscles clenched. “I promise I’ll do my best to please you.”

  He chuckled, and raised his head. “Yeah. Right.”

  Her heart stopped. She withdrew, fighting back tears at his skeptical words. She’d booked this night through Madame Eve so she could re-build her self-esteem. So far, it couldn’t have gone worse. She knew why he acted as he did—understood it, even.

  Her ex had emotionally abused her. He’d also used her as a punching bag. She’d removed herself from the situation and put his ass in jail. Rebuilding her life had proved to be a bit harder. Being told how wretched she was every day for two years had worn her down.

  Women in her profession weren’t supposed to fall for abusive men. They weren’t supposed to believe every sweet lie and excuse men told, after guilt had set in. After a while, even his feigned love drifted away, leaving only the beatings. Finally, she’d awakened from her nightmare and gotten the hell out.

  All she needed was a simple night of passion, of being able to trust someone again. Instead, she’d gotten him. Even more distrusting of the opposite sex than she, he was less than pleased with her. She had to dent his armor. Maybe if they went into the room and shared a few drinks, she could convince him she could give him a night of pleasure.

  After all, she’d place money on the fact that he found her attractive.

  “Look, if I’m not good enough for you, I'm sure you can get your fees back. But, let’s at least—”

  He scoffed. “Honey, you’re more than good. You’re perfect. Which leads me to wonder why a woman who looks like you would need a service to get laid? And why you’d want a cripple—instead of a whole man.”

  So, he dreaded he wouldn’t hold up to her standards? Couldn’t be enough to satisfy her? Now, that she could handle. Her confidence bolstered, she smiled her most seductive manner. “Oh, I’m quite happy you’re my date. Thrilled, even. I couldn’t have hoped for a better match.”

  He sucked in a breath and his burning gaze raked over every inch of her. By the time he’d finished—after stalling quite a while at her breasts—she shook under the force of her desire.

  Dear God, let him accept me.

  He shrugged but she saw the vulnerability behind the defensive measure. “Hey, if you’re happy, I’m happy.”

  Her heart ached when he dropped his regard to his lap. He fidgeted with his watch, spinning it in slow circles. On shaky legs, she stepped forward, heading down the hallway to their room. She peeked over her shoulder to see if he followed. “By all means, come with me.”

  Chapter Two

  Matt’s mouth watered as he watched the gentle sway of her ass while she led him to their room. When his cock strained against his jeans, he shifted his weight. How could someone as perfect as her wish to spend the night with him? All she’d have to do to attract a man would be to crook her finger in a bar. She’d have any number of men fighting to get to her first. Hell, he’d have been first in line, back when he could walk. And now, he had the opportunity to have her to himself all night—like this?

  He couldn’t help it. He had to know. He opened his mouth to speak, but halted when a striking couple emerged from the room next to theirs. The man had almost white-blond hair and violet eyes—while she was the complete opposite with black hair and golden skin.

  “Jasmi
ne, I need a break. You’re insatiable,” the man teased.

  “Gavin!” She tossed an anxious look at Matt, and tugged on the man’s arm. “Come on.”

  They smiled at each other with such love, Matt’s throat tightened. He’d never get another woman to look at him as if he raised the sun over the earth…unless he hired her through a service. Most people saw the wheelchair and failed to notice the man in it.

  Except her.

  She didn’t act as if his impediment bothered her. Could it be true? Did she not care?

  The pair walked down the hallway, arms entwined. He shook his head, returning his focus to his date. They’d reached their room, and she turned the knob, holding the door open for him with a smile. He flinched at the familiar gesture, but warmed when he realized it wasn’t an act of sympathy. In fact, he’d swear she watched him with desire as he entered the room. Did she like what she saw?

  “Why did you pick me?” The words flew out of his mouth before he could stop them. He wished he could kick himself in the leg for the stupidity. Did it matter?

  She cocked her head, shutting the door behind her. “Why? Because you’re hot. Because I liked what I saw. Why did you pick me?”

  “Were you aware I was crippled when you selected me?”

  “Yes, of course. Madame Eve wouldn’t hide the fact from me. I’ve never met her, but she takes great pride in her work.” She walked to the table, picking up a bottle of champagne. “Mm. This looks yummy. You didn’t answer my question.”

  “I didn’t pick you. My squad arranged this whole thing. They thought I could use a night of fun, I guess.” He shrugged, wheeling to her side. “Can’t say I have any complaints at their choice, but I'm confused why you’d want me.”

  She held the champagne out to him. “Can you open this? I’m not good at popping corks. Hate those things.”