She was breathtakingly beautiful.
When she saw him standing there with his shirt undone and no shoes on, she started to shut the door in his face.
“Wait!” He called, inserting his bare foot in the crack. “I know I shouldn’t be here.”
“Then why are you?” she asked angrily.
“Because I can’t sleep. I keep thinking about you, and about how amazing last night was, and I’m going to be honest, Daisy. I don’t do this. I don’t obsess over women.”
She frowned. “Lucky me.”
“You don’t get it. Most of the time, I’m fine with just me and my little girl, and I don’t feel like I’m missing out on anything by not having a woman in my life. When I need a little relief, I find someone who is of a like mind, who isn’t looking for more than one night. But right now? Knowing you’re in the same building with me, and that tomorrow we’ll both go back to our separate lives?” He swallowed hard, knowing he was laying it all on the line, but that was how he rolled. “I feel like I’m missing out on one more night with you.”
She pressed her lips into a thin line, hesitation furrowing her brow. “Mark…”
“We don’t make sense on paper. Mark and Daisy make no sense at all.” He reached out and cupped her face through the crack of the door. “But Scarlett and Chris do.”
She stared at him, leaning into his hand. “So you’re proposing…?”
“One more night for Scarlett and Chris. One more perfect night together, before the sun comes up.” He removed his foot from the crack and let go of her. “And then we go back to being Mark and Daisy, who don’t want anything to do with one another, and we never do this again.”
She stared at him, not closing the door in his face, but not widening it, either. A door behind him opened, and he glanced over his shoulder. By the time he looked back, Daisy’s door was shut.
And she was gone.
Guess he got his answer.
He stared at it for a second, disappointment filling him, then turned on his heel and started for the elevator. He only made it two steps before her door opened again. Daisy came running out, skidding to a halt when she saw he hadn’t made it far yet. She opened her mouth, closed it, and then grabbed his open shirt, yanked him close, and kissed him.
That was all the invitation he needed.
Growling, he picked her up, and she effortlessly wrapped her legs around his waist, opening herself up to him. He walked her into her room, his mouth never leaving hers, and kicked the door shut behind them. Backing her against the wall, he ran his hands over every inch of her delicious body he could reach. She slipped her hands under his shirt and pushed it off, writhing against him seductively, rubbing against him without shame.
It was the hottest damn thing he’d ever seen.
Her using his hard cock to get off.
Shrugging, he helped her shove his shirt off his shoulders, and then he slipped his hands under her shirt and closed his palms over her breasts. She didn’t have a bra on, so the skin on skin contact was enough to drive him insane. He squeezed her nipples, playing with them, and she rocked against his cock harder. Faster.
He repositioned himself between her legs and thrust against her, making sure to hit her where she needed it most. A broken moan escaped her when he did it again, and she broke the kiss off, gasping for air.
“Oh my God, yes. Mark, I—” She tensed, her eyes closing, her lips parted in rosy-c
heeked ecstasy. “Mark.”
Hearing his name—his actual name—on her lips as she came was enough to make him lose control now. He slammed his mouth down on hers as her fingers fumbled with the button of his pants, which was already undone, because he hadn’t bothered to fasten it when he’d come to her room. She tapped his shoulders impatiently, breaking off the kiss. “Put me down.”
He did so immediately. If a girl said to put her down, you put her the fuck down. “What’s wrong? Did I hurt—?”
“No.” She dropped to her knees and shot him a look as she undid his zipper, and let his pants hit the floor. “Is there something wrong with me doing this?”
The sheer seduction in her eyes, in her soft, pouty mouth, was enough to send a grown man to his knees. She was a goddess, and he wasn’t worthy.
“No,” he choked out as she removed his boxers.
He threaded his fingers into her soft red curls. He’d never really had a thing for hair, and he didn’t particularly care if it was blonde, red, brown, curly, or straight. But now? Shit, he loved red curls. Especially when his fingers were covered in it.
She smirked. “That’s what I thought.”