Join Mac's VIP email list & be the first to know about her newest book! SUBSCRIBE

Trapped In Temptation #3

Beatrix Hale’s long, hard journey is almost over and all she wants is a nice, quiet hotel room in which to collapse. Her plans are almost spoiled when she learns the room’s been reserved for VIP guests, but a handsome young stranger steps in and offers his room. She reluctantly accepts, at least long enough to rest her weary feet. She quickly finds herself a captive of his lustful eyes and sensually teasing words. Propriety demands she leave, but her body and soul beg her to stay and fulfill the sensual ache growing in her body.

Publisher: Crescent Moon Studios, Inc.

He had me in his strong, possessive arms. I was his and his alone. He would never let me free. His possessive nature only excited me more. I shuddered as his hand slid beneath my shirt. His fingers brushed against my bra and clutched my breast in his strong grasp. The fever inside me built to an unbearable temperature. I squirmed and softly moaned. The lust inside me demanded more than his touch. It demanded a violent penetration that would take me beyond heaven.
My lover leaned towards me. His brow crashed down and his bespectacled eyes were full of concern. “Are you all right?”
I shot up from my seat and whipped my head around. I was on the metro, and my lover was really a middle-aged man in a clean gray suit. By his side on the floor was a suitcase. I had to bite back a groan of disappointment. I sat on one of the hard-cushioned seats of a metro train that sped along its bumpy track to points known.


My numb butt cheeks complained of the distance they’d flown and ridden during this long day.
I shook myself and managed a smile. “I’m fine. I was just-um, just a little jet-lagged,” I told him.
“Not used to flying?” he mused.
I shook my head. “No, I fly all the time, but sometimes all those miles catch up to me.”
His eyebrows raised. “Corporate job?”
“Something like that. I’m a travel writer for an online company,” I explained.
“Really?” he mused.
I couldn’t help but notice that his eyes swept over my body. My physique wasn’t exactly made for exercise. I was a little on the chubby side, and that was being kind. “I get to eat a lot of good food,” I told him.
“I see. So come to our fair city for a peak and a peck?” he wondered.
“Yep. I’m here to see a few of the less-traveled sights and write about them,” I concurred.
“Seen anything of particular interest you’ll write about?” he asked me.
I laughed and shook my head. “I haven’t seen anything but the back of my eyeballs. Besides, I just got here and I need to check into my room first before I go traipsing everywhere with my camera.” I kicked my luggage roller beside me for emphasis.
“Where are you staying?” he asked me.
“The Asta,” I replied.
His eyes widened. “You must be a pretty good writer to stay there. That’s the most expensive hotel in town.”
I smiled and shrugged. “I’m not that good of a writer, but the company decides where I stay and they like to keep up appearances.”
“But it’s a thousand dollars a night, not including amenities. Your company will go bankrupt if they keep that up,” he pointed out.
I snorted. “I guess that explains why I only get a week to find the sights and write about them.”
He started back and frowned. “A week? It would take a month just to explore the historic district!” he argued.
“Next stop, Uptown District,” the shrill voice screeched to the passengers.
Saved by the screech. I smiled at the man and stood. “I guess I’ll have to walk fast.”
I couldn’t miss as his eyes roamed over my pudgy body. I looked more like a food-travel guide than a location-travel guide. “Good luck. You’re going to need it.”
The metro stopped and I stumbled off with my luggage in tow. My station was below ground and two stairs on either side led to the surface. There was an elevator between them for people with heavy roller bags like mine. Ahead of me was a map of the area and the metro. I headed for the map and glanced over the city details searching for the street with my hotel.
“Any way I can help you?” a voice spoke up beside me.
I turned and my eyes fell on a handsome young man of about twenty-five. He had short, sandy-colored hair and a wide smile that was reflected in his blue eyes. The man wore a casual suit and held a briefcase in one hand. The way his eyes looked at me was a little unnerving. There was an intensity in their depths that confused me, but also ignited a strange, sensual heat inside me that was hard to tamp down. Maybe that was because I didn’t really want to tamp it down.
But this wasn’t my first time around strangers, so I gave him a shaky smile in return and shook his head. “No, that’s fine. I found where I needed to go.” That wasn’t true, but I needed to escape his entrancing eyes.
“Where’s that?” he wondered.
“The Asta.” I noticed his eyes widened a little. “Is something wrong?”
He gathered himself and shook his head. “No, I was just thinking what a strange world we live in.” He held out his free hand to me. “The name’s John.”
I reluctantly shook his hand. His fingers were warm to the touch and I felt a pleasurable shock flow up my arm. I pulled away as quickly as I could without being rude. “Um, Beatrix,” I told him.
“That’s a very interesting and uncommon name,” he mused.
I shrugged. “My parents were old fashioned. Anyway, it was nice meeting you, John.” I strode past him towards the elevator, and was both relieved and disappointed when I didn’t hear the clack of his shoes follow me.
I reached the elevator just as it opened and clamored in with a half dozen other people. I turned around and glimpsed John standing five yards from the elevator entrance. He had a peculiar smile on his face, and he bowed his head to me. I blushed and was glad when the elevator doors shut on his beautiful eyes.
The elevator rose to street level and we stepped out onto the busy sidewalk. Skyscrapers towered above us and blocked out most of the dark night sky. Ten feet away cars zoomed up and down the winding road. I walked over to a map and traced my path to the hotel. It was a few long blocks away from where I stood.
“Should’ve called. . .” I muttered to myself. I sighed and shrugged. “Well, nothing else to do but go for it.” I hitched up my pants, readjusted my grip on my luggage, and strode up the street.


Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published.

Mac Flynn
Mac Flynn