“At least let me pretend I’m not the bad sister.”
“Oh, you’re the very good sister.”
“Ten minutes,” I say, and tug on his waistband again, pulling him in for another long, slow, deep kiss.
“If you’re not there in ten minutes I’m finding you and throwing you over my shoulder,” he promises. “And I’ve had more than enough whiskey to make good on that promise.”
“Go,” I whisper.
One last kiss, and he does. I watch Seth as he walks from the dark hallway into the brightly lit foyer. He nods at someone I can’t see, and I take a deep breath, lean my head against the wall. I think my legs are still shaking.
Seth doesn’t bother getting his jacket from the ballroom. He just heads for the outside door, looking casual as you please, shirt half undone, tie loose, sleeves rolled up, hair looking like someone’s been grabbing it.
He gives me one last look as he exits, eyes filled with smolder and promise, and then he’s gone.Chapter NineteenSethI don’t understand why this place is a thousand dollars a night. Don’t get me wrong, it’s nice. It’s nice as hell — stone fireplace, two leather couches, separate bedroom with an enormous four-poster bed, marble-covered bathroom complete with Jacuzzi — but a thousand dollars?
I’m just saying, I’d spend it differently.
While I wait for Delilah, I flip every switch in the place. I turn the lights on, then off, then dim them halfway. I check the blinds. I start the fireplace, find another in the bedroom, start that one too. I even plug my phone into the provided charging dock, and she still hasn’t shown up, so I sprawl on one of the couches, both arms along the top, and wait.
I think about the way she gasped when she came, up against the wall. I think about my thumb in her mouth, about her saying just unzip, about the garter tattoos that she still has, and I’m so hard it hurts.
She’s still not here. It’s been nine minutes. She gets two more — one because she said ten, and an extra one because I’m fucking polite — and then I’m going in there after her.
Just as I’m about to get up, the doorknob turns and the door opens and there she is, that pink dress swirling around her, the fur cape around her shoulders, cheeks and nose pink from the walk.
“I see you didn’t get lost,” she says, unclipping the cape and hanging it neatly on a hook.
“I assume this key only works on one door,” I say. “C’mere.”
Delilah bends down, takes her shoes off. She leaves them in a pile by the door and walks over to me, the drapes of her dress shining dully in the low light, the sway of her hips mesmerizing.
I think I could watch Delilah walk for hours.
“You said ten minutes,” I tease as she crosses the room.
“What’s it been, eleven?”
When she reaches me she pulls her skirt up, over her knees, and then she’s straddling me, her heat and her weight right against my aching cock.
“Closer to twelve, now,” I manage to say, pushing her skirt higher over her thighs, her flesh cool from the cold walk.
Delilah leans in, puts her forehead against mine. She rolls her hips and slides a hand under my shirt and I almost groan out loud, half from sheer desire and half from the pleasure of knowing she wants this just as bad as I do.
Someday, I know, she won’t. Someday she’ll move on without me, but not today.
“You had two whole extra minutes and you’ve still got your clothes on?”
My hands are all the way up her skirt, gripping her bare ass, my fingers sinking in, her skin cold but quickly warming.
“I like it better when you do it,” I tell her she she rolls her hips again and we both hold our breaths for half a second, that whisper of friction utterly delicious.
“Even though you stopped me twice?”
“That was all about context,” I say. “Your fancy chateau is a far cry from the hallway where anyone could walk in.”
Friction. I grab her tighter, pull her against me, and I can’t tell if I imagine the sound she makes or not.
“Door’s locked,” she says. “Is that enough, or should I go jam a chair under the knob?”
“That depends,” I say, and now my hips are just barely rising to meet hers, both her hands on my skin. “Are you gonna be so loud someone calls the fire department?”
Delilah pulls my tie through my collar and tosses it across the couch, finishes off the last few buttons of my shirt, pulls me forward and I tug it off, follow it with my undershirt.
“Me, loud?” she asks, and her mouth is on mine, her heat grinding into my erection like she can fuck me through our clothes. “I didn’t make a peep before.”