Hot Mistake. Cara Lockwood

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       PROLOGUE

      THEY TUMBLED DOWN onto the plush cushions of the poolside lounger and she found herself on top of his hard, fit body. The shock of the impact jolted all her senses at once. The cruise ship’s pool was deserted, the silver moon high above their heads. No one was around. No one could see them. All her senses came alive then, rousing needs she’d long denied. Their bodies fit together perfectly, the thin layer of clothing between them not enough to contain the heat they generated. Everything about him screamed sex: the lopsided smile, the thick muscles across his chest on display through his thin T-shirt, the barely there hint of stubble on his chin. She glanced at his hazel eyes and the way he stared at her told her everything she needed to know: he wanted her. Her heart thudded in her chest as her brain struggled to realize what her body already understood: she wanted him, too.

       This was the man she’d been warned about, the man with the reputation for breaking hearts. But none of that seemed to matter now. Nothing mattered but the feel of his body beneath hers.

      He waited patiently for her to make the first move. Almost challenging her as he kept still, their lips nearly touching. All she had to do was dip down to taste him. She inhaled his scent: sandalwood and something muskier, something dangerous. She wanted that smell on her, she realized. She wanted him, period. An inner voice of warning pinged in her head. Don’t do this. It’s a mistake. He’s going to use you.

      Not if I use him first, she told the voice.

       Oh, she liked that idea. Play the player. Take what she needed...and she would. She’d denied herself for months. She’d been good for far, far too long. What had being tight-laced gotten her? Nothing. She needed this. She needed him. She was tired of being polite. What she wanted was a bad boy, someone who was off-limits, someone who wouldn’t play nice.

       Her inner wild child roared to life. She’d been held down too long beneath the prim and proper, the straight and narrow path she’d struggled to walk. Tonight she wasn’t going to be a good girl. Tonight she was going to let the bad girl out. Her real self, finally. Wild, free, a woman who knew what she wanted and took it.

       She dipped down and kissed him, pressing her lips against his, tasting the caramel-sweet sourness of bourbon. But she wanted more. So much more. Her tongue flicked out, meeting his in perfect unity, as if he anticipated her every move. Every nerve ending in her body stood on end, her blood buzzing in her veins, as she tasted him, drank him in. Her hand skipped down, running the length of his fit chest, finding him even harder, even more ready than she’d imagined.

      She knew he’d had plenty of women. His reputation preceded him, after all. But she knew for a fact he’d never had a woman like her before. She reached for his fly and pressed her fingers against the length of him through the fabric and he groaned. Yes, that’s it, groan for me, her inner wild child thought. Get ready for the night of your life.