God, she’s a fucking wet dream. For a long second, I just stare, caught in her gravitational pull, feeling like the luckiest guy in the world.
Then she does it. She stands, pushes up on her toes and kisses me. It unleashes something inside me, something fucking wild.
Primal.
All heat and need and urgency.
She’s the craving I never knew I had. I kiss her back, hard and aggressive, my hand slipping under her jaw, gripping her windpipe. She takes a sharp inhale against my cheek, groaning into my mouth.
I’m so fucking torn. I’d like to take her right here. Right now. Claim her as mine and show them all.
See me, motherfuckers? I’d yell as I yanked her dress up over her ass, bending her over and releasing my thick, dripping meat. She’s fucking mine and if you have any doubt, I’m going to tear her little cherry right here in front of God and all you jealous assholes.
But the fear in her eyes from earlier, before the kiss, I can’t forget that either. And I want her to be a lot of things, but truly fearful isn’t one of them.
I pull away. And before she can even catch her breath, I scoop her up over my shoulder in a fireman’s carry, gripping her hips with my forearm as she yelps, her hands latched around my ribs.
I give her sequined ass a smack as people around us turn to stare. The dancing couples part for us to walk through the crowd like I’m fucking Moses.
I carry her right past the guy in the blue suit, with her giggling all the way, hair falling down to my ass, covering her face. With her sweet kiss still on my lips.
Enough of the pre-game bullshit show.
It’s go time.
CHAPTER 5
Lexie
Hanging down his back as he walks, I giggle and fight off the urge to play his ass cheeks like Ricky Ricardo’s bongos.
A few steps more and he stops, his arms shift, his hands encircle my waist, and I’m lowered onto the wood floor outside what I am guessing is his room.
As the overabundance of blood leaves my brain, the hallway spins and little white sparks dot my vision.
I stagger a step sideways, laughing at myself, and I grip his thick forearm for support. I look up into the dark abyss of his eyes to try to center myself. They’re so beautiful. So deep and possessive. So warm and yet…so forbidden.
The light here in the hallway is different and the scar through his eyebrow seems more pronounced. More telling.
It’s ragged, not a clean cut like you’d get from a knife or something sharp. The flesh around it is thick and I realize it must have been from hitting something. Or something hitting him.
Hard. Busting the flesh apart with the force.
“You okay?” he asks, running the tip of his index finger down the bridge of my nose, then to my lips, chin, neck and ending over my heart, making heat flush over my skin.
“Yes,” I manage on an exhale, then tip my head back toward the direction we came. “Thanks for that,” I say, then lick my lips.
My boldness with this man is endless and I wonder if it’s because of the anonymity. The fantasy of it all.
As the hallway stops spinning, the stark clarity about what we’re doing here returns.
What I’m doing here. And why. My palms are sweaty and I swallow hard.
Somehow, he senses my tension.
“Don’t worry, Princess. I’m not going to do anything you don’t want me to do,” he offers, his voice all dark and broody like he’s from some erotic foreign film. Then he unlocks the room door and ushers me inside.
That’s the thing though. I do want him to do it. All of it. Everything I’ve never experienced and more.
The room is spacious, expensive, and chic. Old world mansion meets Scandinavian modern. I spot that the few belongings I brought with me have been deposited discreetly in the corner of the room in my little canvas duffel bag. But I’m only focused on my surroundings for a millisecond before he yanks off his tie and loosens his collar. As soon as he does, it’s like a starting gun goes off inside me.
I want him.
Inside me
Right now.
On your mark, get set…get wet.
I take two steps toward him, grabbing him by the belt to pull him closer. But he’s so big, and I’m so small, and instead I end up pulling myself into him. Our bodies collide and we exhale together. He draws me into his warmth, his scent, his heat. His intensity.
I get back up on my tiptoes to kiss him again, but he pulls his face away just enough to foil my plan, making me teeter, uncertain what to do next.
“Not yet,” he rumbles, sounding defiant and a little like he’s in pain.
It makes me mad for some reason.