Possess Me Slowly (Shattered 2)

When I reached the entrance to the penthouse I was almost shaking. Today was a bust. I was upset, wired and now thanks to this elegant domineering stranger, horny.

“Well, have a pleasant evening, sir.”

He grinned and took the key from his inside coat pocket and unlocked the door. He propped it open just enough to put his Italian leather-covered foot in the jamb, keeping it barely ajar.

“That was my hope,” he said and his eyes shot to mine.

I stood there, clutching his briefcase, my heart banging out of my chest. He reached out and trailed his fingers down my arm, stopping at the death grip I had on the handle.

“Thank you for your service.” The way he said those words were dark, yet had a playful undertone.

“You’re welcome and if there is anything else you need don’t hesitate to call.”

He smiled and it sent my heart racing. “I don’t have your number.”

“I meant the front desk, sir.”

“I know what you meant,” he stepped closer, “And you know what I meant. Tell me, is it exhausting?”

“What?”

“Following all those rules?”

I couldn’t think. Couldn’t process what was happening. It was like some pheromone seeped from him and was rendering me totally complacent. I was actually considering what proposition lay in his eyes.

The way he looked at me. All of me. Like I was standing in front of him naked without shedding a stitch of clothing. My body hummed in such a traitorous way that my pulse pinched the tips of my br**sts like sharp snapping fingers.

I let go of the briefcase and he took it. He squared his shoulders and all that masculine heat wrapped around me like a predator examining its target. It was obvious this man exerted power and got what he wanted. Only problem was, I was in his sights and had no idea how to react.

“I-I must be going, Mr. Preston.”

“But you’re not.” He stepped closer, his breath fanning over my forehead, cornering me. I was considered tall for a woman. In heels I pushed five-ten, yet he was still a good four inches taller.

Somehow, he maneuvered me into the doorway, one foot inside the room, one still in the hall. I didn’t know which way to step. The jamb of the entry pressed between my shoulder blades and my front was completely covered by a tower of muscle and spicy smelling yumminess.

Part of me wanted to run, but the practical part of my brain had shut down a while ago. I hadn’t been this close to someone in a while. My entire being craved this man. Was begging for this nearness. I tried to look at the ceiling and break the spell Preston had over me, but two emerald beacons once again snared my attention.

My brain might be shot, but I knew this wasn’t a good idea.

“I’m sorry. This is unprofessional. You’re a guest and I’m an employee of the hotel.” Even when I attempted to reprimand myself it didn’t sound convincing.

“You’re not on the clock,” he whispered and traced a finger along my hairline from my temple to my ear. “Right now, you’re just a woman. I’m just a man. No rules. No expectations. Just pleasure and escape.”

A small moan escaped my mouth before I could stop it. I wanted to be swallowed up by everything he was offering. To let go. For one night give in to something good. Something intense. Forget that life was spinning around me and, for one night, pretend to exist in the moment. And judging by the fire in his eyes and the bulge pressing against my belly, intense would just be the beginning.

“You’re just passing through, right?” It was the only thing I could think to say because his mouth crept dangerously close to mine.

“That a problem?”

“No,” I whispered. It was actually better that way.

He tossed the briefcase into the room and it slammed onto the floor. In one fluid motion, his hands were on me. One cupping my hip and the other my face. He yanked me into his hard body and kissed me hard. Sliding his tongue between my lips, he drew in one strong taste, drinking down every piece of hesitation I had. Inhibitions vanished. One amazing kiss left me dazed and oh so willing.

“You never told me your name,” he said and bit my bottom lip.

“Y-you heard it…”

“I want you to tell me.”

“Megan,” I whispered.

He gave a curt nod, as if that was all he needed. Which worked for me. The more details, the bigger the mess. Right now I reveled in the better part of my brain turning off and letting my body take over. I wanted to forget. Forget about a cheating boyfriend that broke my heart. The boss that stole my family’s money. Forget that my father, the one man who had never let me down, was suffering from his own kind of forgetting—and it was starting with me.

My eyelids felt like they were lined with recently welded steel. I didn’t want to be in my thoughts. I didn’t want to be alone with them anymore. Tonight…it just felt like too much to bear. And staring down a sculpted build of masculine strength, it was the first time in a long time forgetting was actually possible.

He studied my face for a moment, as if he sensed a slight shift in my mood. I gripped the back of his neck and pulled him down.

“Please, Preston. Just kiss me.”

The last six months of my life was disappeared with the barest of touches and his lips. Everything fell away, and that was exactly what I had wanted. This moment. Just him.

He slanted his mouth over mine. His large palm was still cupping my face and he pushed his thumb on my chin, opening my mouth wider. Delving his tongue inside, he took a deeper draw from my mouth like he was gulping down his last breath of air.

I’d never felt more consumed and we hadn’t even gone past kissing. He didn’t rush. Every lash of his skilled tongue was deliberate. Passionate. Long, hard strokes of his masterful mouth sent shivers to every part of my body.

I gently cupped his face in my palms, tracing my fingertips down his chin with slight pressure. I wanted to feel him. Feel his jaw work as he devoured me. The soft scratch of day-old stubble abraded my palms. He smelled, felt—kissed—like a man. So strong and controlled, like a well-oiled machine drawing every last ounce of willpower from me.

He pulled back just enough to look into my eyes. A frown split his dark brows. Had I done something wrong? I gently pulled my hands away.

“Don’t,” he grated. The words were sharp and cut through all the layers of misery I’d been carrying around. He gripped my wrists and guided my hands back to his face. “Don’t take your hands from me. Understand?”