Stealing the Bride

I open my mouth and flick my tongue over his lips. I want to know if I’m right about him tasting like whiskey. But he’s so much headier. More addictive.

He feels like the hottest dream and sweetest endearment. There’s a breathtaking confidence in the way he meets my tongue, slips his into my mouth.

My heart is racing like I’m still dancing hard, sweat filming over my heated skin. His breath fans over me, and I fit our bodies closer, wanting more…needing more.

His erection pushes against my belly, hot and hard. And I freakin’ love it.

A vague voice from deep inside says this isn’t like me. I’m much more careful about who I tangle tongues with, more judicious about my relationships. But I’ve never felt this way before. Why not embrace this new feeling, the kind you always hear about in movies and books?

This is going to be incredible. Carefree. And, most importantly, simple, without any attachment or complications.

The word that comes to mind is thrilling. I wrap my arms around his neck and deepen the kiss, wanting to go all the way. Gotta find someplace private.

After what seems like an hour or so, he breaks off. The lust in his eyes stokes the heat burning inside me. “You’re delicious.” He licks the corners of my mouth. “Let’s get out of here.”

“You have a place in mind?” The things I want to do with him will get us tossed in jail if we do it in front of an audience.

“Actually, yeah. Come on.”

My response is immediate. “Okay.”

He reaches out. Our fingers link, and I grin as our palms touch and the hot tingles intensify and radiate throughout my body. My heart is pounding, like the first time I bungee-jumped. I can’t remember ever feeling like this. It isn’t just that I’m excited. He makes it all seem new, as though I’ve never experienced sexual attraction or chemistry before.

We make our way outside. He doesn’t get his car or hail a taxi. Instead, he leads me down the sidewalk.

“Where are we going?” I ask, wondering if he lives close by.

“The Aylster,” he says as though the exclusive hotel is his backyard pool. “It’s only a couple blocks.”

Another place I’ve never been to, even though I’ve lived in the city all my life. A uniformed doorman greets us, and the revolving door dumps us into a lobby glinting with marble and crystal. There’s some kind of abstract bronze sculpture thing in the center.

Whiskey goes to the front desk. Since we agreed to keep it anonymous, I stay far enough away that I don’t overhear his name.

I look up at the murals on the ceiling. Wow. This must be how a medieval peasant felt when she saw Notre Dame for the first time. It’s awe-inspiring…but not off-putting. Down on the floor, there’s a hint of elegant hospitality in the careful arrangement of the seats and tables.

My gaze slides toward Whiskey. After all, he’s the most fascinating thing in this hotel. He’s obviously got money, but seems too down to earth to show off. My experience says if he’s the type who can afford a room at a hotel like this, he should’ve done something like show off his Porsche or whatever to attract me. But nope. Nothing of that sort.

And the fact that he’s confident enough to not bother with such inane attempts stokes my desire for him.

I shift my weight, trying to relieve the hot sensation between my legs. As soon as the smartly dressed clerk hands over the key card, Whiskey takes my hand again. He leads me unerringly into a waiting elevator, as though he knows the layout of the hotel.

Before the doors can close, a couple of people join us. I bite my lip, my shoulders sagging a bit. If they weren’t here, I’d totally be jumping him right now. I haven’t felt this reckless in…well, ever. And it feels damn good.

Freeing.

Since there are other people with us, I prop my hands on the horizontal bar behind me and lean the back of my head against the wall. I run my tongue over my lips, then my teeth, trying to grab what little flavor of him lingers there.

Mmm. I close my eyes so I can savor it better. Something chocolatey and laced with liquor—the best combination. But what makes it unique is the special taste of him that’s all male and confidence.

Whiskey slides a discreet hand between me and the wall, cups my ass and squeezes. My eyes pop open. Oh God. It’s illicit and so damn hot. My gaze moves to the people in front of us. They’re checking their phones. With an uncharacteristic impulsiveness, I brush my hand across his crotch. Delicious lust shoots along my veins at the knowledge that the others have no clue I’m soaking between my legs and Whiskey is hard and ready.

What I’m feeling isn’t like me at all. But I don’t care. Tonight, I’m going to be irresponsible and carefree. It’s my reward: stocking up on fun before I spend the next several months focusing on my career.

The people exit the elevator five floors below ours. As soon as they’re gone, Whiskey nuzzles my neck.

“You smell so good.”

His breath tickles, and I place a hand on his cheek. “So do you.” And in the small confines of elevator, his scent seems to intensify until my senses are saturated with the pine and male. Why isn’t the car moving any faster?