No Ordinary Gentleman

The tiny judging eye remains red.

The heat of him burns at my back, and the shadow his frame casts against the pale door is large and looming. It drowns out my own. A sensible person would say it’s no wonder I feel nervous with that hulking body behind me, but it’s the experience of that body that I’m desperate for. Desperate to discover the man behind the suit. The muscle and sinew, ridges and dips. The absolute need is one I haven’t felt before.

I inhale and swipe it again.

Red. Still. The colour of warning. The colour to halt. Stop. End.

“These things are so pesky,” I whisper shakily, glancing over my shoulder and failing to tempt the green light again. “Dammit!” I fumble, and the thing flips from my fingertips, landing flat on the floor.

Before I can move, Alexander is already straightening, the card balanced between his fingertips. “So very pesky.” His words are hot at my ear as he trails the edge of the card up my jean-clad thigh. The skin beneath reacts like a million hot pins; my whole body in fact. I feel wound so tight I can barely breathe.

But no, that’s not true as a breath flutters from my mouth. Ha. As I luxuriate in the press of his lips at my neck. I arch into him, elongating my neck to give him more skin to kiss, my palm finding the door as I reach for support and—

It opens. The light has switched from red to green.

“Let’s move this inside,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to the skin behind my ear. “Before we give the whole floor a show.” His hand braces solicitously against the marginally open door.

“I—” I turn my head over my shoulder, his darkened gaze falling to my lips. Almost in slow motion, he inclines his head, and our lips meet fleetingly. As his arm comes around me, turning me, everything speeds up again. Lips slide, and tongues clash, this kiss taking on a savage edge as Alexander’s arms band at my back, almost carrying me into the room. His presence is encompassing, and his kiss all command as he presses me back against the nearest wall, his body following. A frantic heat swims through my veins, my hands scrambling against him, against his chest, pushing his jacket from his shoulders, unable to get enough of him. Touch enough of him.

“Take it off.” I swallow over a rapid breath, drowning in the sight of him. I want to place my teeth against his strong throat and bite. Why is that even a thing I want to do? “Take it all off.”

His low, dirty chuckle is like a lick of heat between my legs.

“As the lady commands.”

I’m barely able to retain thought as he shrugs his jacket the rest of the way from his shoulders, dropping it unceremoniously to the floor. He’s so large, so virile, standing in front of me, the city streetlights casting an arc of illumination behind him.

“Holland,” he growls, pulling me closer, allowing me to breathe him in. Musk and heat and spice and man. Fabric scrapes against my shoulders, my jacket following his.

“Such tiny hands.” Catching my hands in his, he stares down at where we’re palm to palm. Our fingers are suddenly linked, and my stomach is twirling and tumbling as he presses them to the wall near my head. “What should I do with you now?” The look in his eyes could burn whole buildings down.

“You could kiss me again.”

“I was thinking a little payback might be more appropriate.” He slides me a wicked-looking grin.

“Payback? For what?”

“I’m sure I could think of something.” His dark head dips, his mouth engulfing my nipple over my bra and tank. I gasp at the contact, then whimper as his teeth graze the instantly tight bud. “How about trying to offload my attentions onto another. Another’s,” he amends heavily, his eyes flicking up my body.

“That was—”

“Unfortunate.”

My insides pulse as he grazes my nipple again. Grazes. Sucks. Pulls.

“A mistake,” I whisper as his tongue licks long and lushly, tracing the rapid rise and fall of the flesh above my tank. “I was trying to keep you to myself.”

It’s not a lie but maybe too much truth.

“For more than just a coffee?” he taunts. Get you a man with a mouth that taunts and teases sounds like the gold standard of advice that should be given to young girls.

“For at least long enough to prove that you don’t have tattoos.”

“I suppose that’s why you wanted me to strip.”

This he doesn’t address to my face but to my breasts. As I look down myself, twin damp circles surround my pebbled nipples. Pebbled and aching for his mouth.

“Among other things.”

“You look so pretty, Holland.” He presses a kiss to my jaw, his dark whisper coasting the shell of my ear. “So pretty being held.” It might have sounded sinister were it not for the way he pulls back to look at me. Like I’m a treasure, a boon. And maybe it shouldn’t, but the pictures his words paint curl sultrily around me.