A Chance at Love

#Luna's POV The hotel bar was mostly empty when I arrived back from the EICC, Edinburgh's conference center, where they had just hosted a large event featuring authors and artists. My fingers were sore from the endless book signing and I felt a headache coming on, but I wanted one drink before I headed up to my room to pack for my early morning flight. I smile at the bartender as I place my bag on an empty stool, sitting on the one next to it. "Macallan, neat." Pulling out my phone as I waited, I checked my flight information for tomorrow, heading back to New York, and an email from my editor about my schedule for the last leg of my book tour. I nod to the bartender as he sits the drink in front of me, reaching for it. A smooth and crisp English accent asks from over my left shoulder, "May I join you?" When I turn my head to address him, ready to tell him to piss off, my heart nearly skips a beat. Tall, broad, handsome; like a character from one of my novels. His hair was slightly long, chocolate brown and wavy, pushed out of his face. His features were masculine, with a square jaw and sharp angles, very Middle Eastern or Mediterranean features. His hooded brown eyes crinkled as he smiled at me. That smile was devastating. And there was something vaguely familiar about him, something I couldn't put my finger on. "Um-no, please sit." I said as I managed to form words, gesturing to the stool. His smile brightens, and he takes a seat, draping his charcoal-colored suit jacket over his knee and rolling up the sleeves of this crisp white shirt. He nodded to the bartender, then to my drink, "Same, please." Then he shifted in his seat slightly, angling his body to face mine as he held out his hand. "Marcus." I take his hand, my own dwarfed in his, and I give him a smile. "Luna." He smiled again, and I could feel my fingers tingle as I pulled my hand back slowly. "Luna, beautiful name." My smirk is playful, and I bring my glass up to my lips. "I bet you say that to all the girls." He laughs, deep and sincere. "I've never met another Luna before." Taking a sip of his own drink, he leans in a little and nudges me with his elbow. "So, what brings you to Edinburg? And no, that's not just a pick-up line." "Not just?" I say, teasingly. I grin and shrug lightly. "Work thing. Heading back home tomorrow." "Oh," he says, his face looking a little disappointed. But he grins. "Then we'd better not waste a moment." We spent the next couple of hours talking about our interests. I was pleasantly surprised to find out that he was an avid sci-fi fan, in all its forms. And not just a fan, a nerd. We both tried our best to quiz the other on our basic sci-fi knowledge. And we ended up throwing out movie quotes all evening, from sci-fi movies to comedies. We talked about our favorite music, about art and food. I told him about spending time in Puerto Rico with my abuela and learning to cook and make coffee. He impressed me by sheepishly telling me about his insane collection of whiskey that he said he'd 'spared no expense' in his best John Hammond accent. The more we talked, the closer we got to each other, physically. It started with him touching my hand, me shifting and rubbing my knee against his leg, with him leaning in close as his breath ghosted my face. Normally, I would never consider having a one-night stand. I was a little wilder in my youth, but even then, not enough to sleep with random men. But here I was, a thirty-five-year-old romance novelist, and I hadn't had s*x in two years. He'd offered to take the lift with me and I told him that would be fine. I had every intention of asking him to stay the night. Yet, it still shocked me when the doors to the lift closed, and he pulled me to him, his lips crashing against my mouth as his hands found purchase around my broad hips. I didn't pull away though, pressing myself against him as if I was trying to close any gap between us. It happened so fast that neither of us had pushed the button for my floor. We barely registered the door opening and a stunned-looking elderly lady stopped halfway in. I barely heard when she asked what floor we needed, before she hit the button, then stepped back out, grinning. When the lift dinged and the doors opened, Marcus broke away and grabbed my hand, pulling me out. We ended up outside a room two floors above my own. Dazed, I looked around, but Marcus just chuckled, his eyes dark with lust, and opened the door to his room, pulling me in. He slammed the door shut, then pushed me up against it, his hands back on my hips before sliding up my ribs. #Marcus' POV She was beautiful. When I'd seen her walk into the bar earlier, I hadn't hesitated to approach her. She was naturally beautiful, with minimal makeup and no fluff. Her subtle grace was enchanting, completely unaware of how attractive she was. Almost a foot shorter than my 6'4, she had wide hips and soft curves, voluptuous and thick. Her long black curls hung freely down her back, almost to her delicious bottom, hugged tightly by her jeans. When she smiled, her high cheekbones lifted and crinkled her large hazel eyes, eyes that seemed to shift from brown to green with the changing light. Her sunkissed skin was like light honey, and I had the urge to kiss each little freckle that fanned out across her nose. Our conversation had flowed so easily, like we'd known each other forever. When she said some of her favorite bands were Motorhead, Black Flag and Red Hot Chili Peppers, I couldn't help but like her more. We spent at least an hour debating on our favorite comedies, the best sci-fi series. When she said she liked anime, Bleach and Ghost in the Shell being her favorite, it surprised me. She was eclectic, passionate, and sincere. And I wanted to kiss her silly. In the lift, I had a hard time even responding to the older woman that we shocked, but I'd managed to get my floor number out, not knowing hers. I wasn't embarrassed that the poor woman caught us, I was too busy being glad I had enough sense to not rip her clothing off right there. The moment the door shut, I was on her. The bag she'd draped over her shoulder got tossed onto the floor and both of us had our hands on the other, pulling and tugging at clothing and hair. My hands slid down from her breasts and reached for her ass, lifting her up against my body as I pushed her harder against the door. My lips were hungry against hers, my tongue sweeping against hers as we both struggled for dominance. Her hands moved between us, undoing the buttons on my shirt, tugging it loose and spreading the fabric. I groaned when her nails dragged along my chest, pushing a knee between her legs as my fingers dug into the flesh of her ass. I pulled away just long enough to look down at her. "Are you sure?" And she'd just smiled, one of her hands moving up my chest to my neck, her fingers curling into my hair. "Absolutely."