His broad hands spread over her stomach, smoothing down the front of her skirt with a deliberate touch. His voice rumbled in her ear, rough and compelling. “Come inside with me.”
She trembled. Trembled and pressed back against him. Her br**sts felt heavy, her ni**les achingly sensitive, the pulse between her thighs hot and ready, every part of her aching for that touch to wander a little more. She licked her lips. “Is this why you brought me here?”
“No,” he said, and pulled her tighter against him until she could feel his heartbeat throbbing in the hard flesh pressed against her bottom. “I brought you here because my hotel has a fabulous Mexican restaurant that doesn’t even have salads on the menu.”
Her laughter burst out before she could stop it, then trailed into a sigh as his lips feathered over her neck. His stubble teased her until every light brush against her throat sent prickles through her entire body.
“Thomas—Thomas, we’re outside on the sidewalk—”
“Then let’s not be.”
He drew back, leaving her cold. Before she could protest, he laced his fingers with hers and drew her toward the door.
She followed him without speaking.
Words were pointless. When she decided to stay, she knew exactly what she was getting herself into. She fell silent and followed him into the hotel. His long strides slowed past the front door, relaxing into casual arrogance. She stole a quick glance up at him. His face was impassive—but when he caught her look from the corner of his eye, the heat smoldering there sent a thrill through her that left her thighs aching.
God, she was really going to do this. Have meaningless sex with a man she barely knew.
She almost chickened out at the elevator. Almost protested, but then the doors opened and he pulled her inside with sure, easy strength. They were the only ones inside; he hit the button for the seventh floor.
The moment the doors shut, he was on her.
Her breath flew from her as those godforsakenly wondrous hands curled against her waist and pushed her back against the steel wall of the elevator. His body, wild savagery barely caged inside the civilized layer of his shirt, pressed hot against her.
His lips melded to hers. He ravished her mouth, filling her with the taste of him, caressing her so deeply it was delicious. Indecent. Lascivious. Obscene, and so unlike her that, as she melted under his kiss, she wondered dimly who this soft, yielding woman was, moaning in his arms.
Then his fingers stroked down over her hips and dragged her close; his c**k nudged against her, hard and sinful and thrilling. She whimpered and clung to him. That wanton woman she didn’t recognize wrapped her legs around his waist. The hard heaviness of him spread her thighs until they hurt, and her skirt inched up her legs, baring her to him. Baring her to the burning pressure of him, the insistent need nudging against her, teasing her through panties so thin she almost felt him against her bare skin.
The elevator doors slid apart with a soft chime. Without releasing her mouth or her body, he carried her into the hallway. His hands slid down to cup her ass, fingers gripping with a maddening roughness. With every slow, blind, fumbling step down the hallway, his mouth ravished hers until she was trembling, panting, biting him with an urgency that simmered under her skin and trembled in her bones.
With a husky snarl, he slammed her up against the door of a room. The breath knocked from her. The door rattled in its frame. His mouth dipped to her throat, but she tangled her fingers in his hair and dragged him back to kiss him. She wanted to taste more of him. Devour him. Sink into him and never let go.
She wasn’t sure how he got the door unlocked. Wasn’t sure when his hand left her ass and found the keycard. She dimly heard the beep of the security lock over the harsh mingling of their breaths. Then the door opened behind her and they nearly fell into the room together. He raked his hands over her body, lingering to caress the outer curves of her br**sts. She tore at his tie, ripping it off him hungrily.
He stopped kissing her long enough to allow her to yank his tie off. His hand slid under her blouse and touched her with brushes so light she quivered with a fierce and fiery sensitivity. Slowly, with a deliberation that left her feeling shamefully exposed, he drew her shirt up and off. It fell to the floor with his tie. He fell still, simply looking at her, his eyes unreadable and darkly intense.
She fought the urge to cover herself. Old insecurities she thought long dead and buried crept back up. This man was pure perfection. But she met his eyes—and sucked in a harsh breath. His eyes blazed with desire, leaving no doubt.
He wanted her.
His gaze seemed to strip her of more than her clothing, making her feel vulnerable. Fear and longing twined inextricably. His thumbs grazed her cheekbones; his lips brushed hers with a softness that made her burn for something more. Something rougher, deeper, hotter—but he stopped. Denying her. Tormenting her.
“I can stop,” he whispered against her mouth, every syllable brushing her lips tauntingly. “If you want to leave, leave now. Last chance.”
“Don’t,” she gasped, and rocked up against him. “Don’t you dare stop.”
With a rough sound, his mouth crashed against hers, his tongue sliding past her lips to claim her again. It was like letting an animal free from its cage, and the beast was ravenous. He cupped her br**sts. His thumbs grazed over the sheer fabric, taunting her ni**les until she arched into his hand and sucked in a sharp breath. Her fingers found his hair again, tugged as if he were the only thing anchoring her in the rough tide of pleasure. God, she needed him so badly. Hadn’t realized how much she missed a man’s touch until now.
When he squeezed her ni**les, she moaned and clawed at his shirt. Her fingers fought with the buttons as she nibbled at his throat, then licked the sting away. She fumbled. Need made her clumsy—and her damned fingers kept slipping off the tiny plastic buttons.
“Shit.” He yanked his shirt off. Buttons flew in every direction. She tightened her legs around his hips and rubbed against him. Her bra clasp slipped open with a simple flick of his wrist. Her br**sts spilled free and into his hands.
He cupped them, drawing in a ragged breath. He pressed her tighter against the wall and rolled her ni**les between his thumbs and fingers. His mouth captured hers again. She scraped her nails down his back. God, his body was hard. Tight. So damned perfect. She traced his abs down to his pants, and when her fingers hit fabric, she tugged at his waistband.
He let go of her, and she slipped down onto her own two feet—and then onto her knees. He pulled a condom from his pocket. She stole it.