Karen stroked her fingers up the nape of his neck, twining them through the silky strands of his dark hair. She’d never really understood what dirty dancing was. Her stomach flipped somersaults, and, lower, her pussy clenched in anticipation. She licked her lips, tipping her face up to his....
She couldn’t believe how lucky she’d gotten. The place was perfect—absolutely perfect. “Miss?” Jerking herself back to reality, she smiled at the young, American-accented bellboy—or porter, or whatever they called them in Ireland. He took her suitcase, and she followed him into the foyer. God, th...