The Bet (Winslow Brothers 1)

I lean closer to her and whisper directly into her ear, “There is no way I’m letting our cab driver see your gorgeous pussy. That view is mine and mine alone.” In addition to any and all of my somewhat proprietary feelings, I also know that by taking her panties and keeping them for myself, I’ve put her in the position to be exposed without her consent in a situation like this. As such, it’s my responsibility to ensure that doesn’t happen.

A small, surprised, and sexy laugh escapes from her lungs, and somehow, my eyes home in on the way it makes her perky tits bounce beneath her dress.

Is there anything about this woman that doesn’t turn me on?

The answer to that question is a resounding no. So resounding, in fact, that I can’t stop myself from discreetly sliding my hand beneath my jacket and up the smooth skin of her bare thigh.

I should stop. I know I should stop, but my fingers have a mind of their own, and before I know it, they’re skating across the spot where she’s wet and warm and ready for me.

Fuck, she feels good.

Her lips part into the hottest little “O,” and it only makes me more impatient to get this cab ride over with so I can do all of the dirty, delicious, wicked things that consume my mind.

Kissing her until she’s moaning against my lips.

My mouth on her bare pussy.

My tongue inside her.

My cock inside her.

I want it all, and I want it right now.

Sophie’s eyes flame with need, and she drives me wild by pushing her bare pussy against my hand, silently begging me to slide my fingers inside her.

I want to. I’m fucking desperate to. But I’ll be damned if I’m going to share the orgasm I’ve earned with the cab driver. This is New York City. His fare is high enough.

“Please,” she whispers toward me, her hips shifting in her seat again and her voice a compelling mix of needy and demanding, but I use all my willpower to toss a subtle shake of my head in her direction.

“Not yet,” I tell her quietly. “Soon. But not yet.”

A little pout turns down the corners of her mouth, and it’s this crazy mix of adorable and sexy. And when those mesmerizing eyes of her turn big and pleading, I’m so close to giving in to her demands, so close to sliding my fingers inside her and showing her what my cock will be doing the instant we get inside her apartment.

Luckily, though, not even ten seconds later, the cab driver comes to a stop in front of her building.

There’s a small part of me that feels like shouting Hallelujah!, but the larger part of me, the one that’s entirely focused on getting Sophie inside her apartment as quickly as physically possible, takes full control of the situation and has me tossing a fifty-dollar bill over the seat.

It’s about double the actual fare, but I’ve never cared about anything less.

“Keep it,” I call toward the cabbie as I hop out of the back seat when he shakes the extra money at me. And with a little jog around the back of the taxi, I make it to Sophie’s door in record time.

I help her out with a gentlemanly hand, toss my suit jacket over my shoulder, and all but drag her toward the entrance of her building.

“Slow down, please!” She giggles. “I’m in heels!”

Impatient with her shoes, I come to a dead stop just outside her building, lean down, and toss her over my shoulder, all the while making sure her ass and bare-and-glorious pussy remain covered by the suit jacket that was formerly over my shoulder.

Sophie squeals but, thankfully, understands where my head is at. And it takes hardly any time for her to get her keys out of her small purse and start shouting important instructions over her shoulder.

“Use the small silver key for the main door and the larger gold key for my apartment door!”

I smirk. “Got it.” The truth is, I watched her closely enough the last time we came barreling in here, hot for each other, that I already know what to do.

Once we’re in the lobby area, I head toward the elevator, and just before I hit the call button, she updates me, “It’s broken.”

“What? The elevator is broken?”

“Yeah.”

I spin on my heel, looking for an alternate option. “Where are the stairs?”

“At the end of the hallway over there,” she says and starts to make a move to get off my shoulder, but I keep her body firmly in place with two strong hands. “Jude! Let me down! There’s no way you can carry me five flights!”

“The fuck I can’t.”

And I do. Up five flights, I jog the whole way, silently thankful for the daily, hard-as-fuck gym workouts I’ve been doing with Flynn for the past few years.