Her dirty little secret is about to make headlines…
I messed up, big time.
​​​​​​​I let a stranger, a wanted man, a criminal, in my bed… and my heart.

He's a wounded fugitive, and I saved his life. I offered him shelter in my beach house.
And he offered something in return; something sinful, delicious, and reckless.
He more than filled the space Scott left; he left me wondering how I can ever move on while my brain asked Scott who?
After being trapped in my beach house for the weekend, waiting out a storm, he makes promises he can't keep.
Promises I know better than to believe.
He just needs a place to hide, and I'm the silly woman falling for his charm, his swagger, his dangerously good looks.
And when he kisses me, all bets are off. I make a big mistake. One that will cost me my heart, my quiet life, my squeaky-clean reputation, and possibly a whole lot more.
No one was supposed to find out.
But our secret is about to become front-page news.

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Excerpt from One Wild Weekend with Connor © Copyright 2023 Lexi Hart

Before I can even think about how incredibly strong he is, he takes a couple steps forward and drops me on the sofa. I’m so surprised; I gasp as he backs away with a smirk and grabs the wine bottle to swig until half the contents are gone. He swipes his mouth and manages to look menacing and sexy as he runs his tongue over his bottom lip.

“Look. I screwed up, okay? I should have been honest from the start, but you are an incredibly sexy woman, and being this close to you, having you take care of me, it’s like an unbelievable fantasy I don’t want to end, so yeah, I haven’t been completely truthful.”

My pulse doesn’t slow, but with every word that falls out of his mouth, any fear I had of him harming me in some way is replaced by pure unadulterated carnal lust. I’m starting to breathe quickly. My head is getting light. From the wine. From him. His intensity. The sheer risk. The recklessness. The need.

The heat in the room that has nothing to do with the fire. I want him. Right here. Right now.

***

Too much trouble? He’s sitting there, shirtless, looking like a Greek god, asking me if touching him is too much trouble?

My legs propel me towards him, ignoring my feeble protest that this is not a good idea, that I should walk away and go hide in the garage again. I’m trembling as I sit alongside him, my mouth dry as I take the bandage from his outstretched hand. His eyes stay locked on me as I lean over him, trying and failing not to look at his tattoos as I place the bandage on his chest.

He shifts closer as I look up and find his gaze on my lips. My fingers drift downwards, accidentally grazing his skin as I pull my hand back ready to move away, but he’s quicker than I am. He gently grasps my hand and presses my fingers to his lips. A pleasant shudder travels down my spine as he pulls me closer, so our thighs are touching.

“Thank you. You’re an angel.”

Heat floods through my body as I try to pull my hand away from him. His eyes narrow, then his other hand is at the back of my neck. I’m so shocked by how good his touch feels that I don’t resist when he tugs me towards him, and his lips press against my mouth.

Fire starts to spread burning through my body as his tongue caresses mine. All my nerve endings fire as my hands wander down his body like they have a mind of their own. His muscle is hard beneath me as I run my hands over his skin. If he’s in pain, he doesn’t show it. Doesn’t even flinch, just kisses me harder, sending waves of pleasure through my body.

My hands are in his hair, running over his back, his shoulders, he feels so good to touch, I don’t want to stop touching him. I want him to touch me back. I want to feel his hands on my skin. Him. This man I only just met.

What is wrong with me?

I pull away, near panting as I watch his chest rising and falling like he’s struggling to control himself as much as I am. His eyes are glassy, voice husky when his hands drop to my waist. “If you’re waiting for me to apologize for making a move, it’s not going to happen. You’re basically my dream girl.”

I cock my head at him and try to breathe. “Um, that’s um, really?”

He tugs me closer so I’m forced to lean into him. “Yeah. You’re the kind of girl I dream about every night.”

***

I curse into the empty room, listening to the storm outside the shuttered windows. It was beyond stupid to flirt so much, let alone make out with her like a horny teenager. Given my injury and situation, I’m a jerk for even considering screwing her, but shit, she was as into it as much as I was and she’s the best thing that’s happened to me in a long time.

I can still taste her on my lips. Feel her soft skin. I can’t imagine how it would feel to do half the things I want to do with her, but even if I wasn’t still recovering, taking it any further than a kiss is pointless. She’s already asking questions and making connections. And because I’m wildly attracted to her, I’m letting my guard down. And making mistakes I can’t afford to make.

Flirting and having fun playing house is getting too risky. She’s getting too risky. This was only supposed to be a pit stop. I never should have started something with her I couldn’t finish. I snort a bitter laugh into the darkened room, almost envious of the guy who got to share a bed and a life with her out here.

For the first time in my memory, I like a woman enough to want to find out more than her cup size. I want to find out what kind of movies she likes, what she does like to eat for breakfast. I want to kiss her neck, take a shower with her, see the sun on her skin, make her laugh and hear her moan under me, but I don’t have the luxury of doing any of that. I don’t have the time. And to preserve my sanity, I need to stop thinking about her in future tense.

The storm should pass by Monday, and I’ll breeze out the door and never have to think about her again.

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