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More like walking sin designed to test my restraint and push me to the limits of my control.
The moment I slid into that Town Car and closed the door behind me, sealing me in with her, all I wanted to do was pin her to the expensive leather and drive into her until we both forgot who we were and only felt.
Keeping my hands and mouth to myself was nearly impossible, but now that we’re so close to the ultimate payoff, I pull her close to me and tuck her hair behind her ear, staring down into the vibrant amber eyes that hold the same desire roaring through me right now.
Lowering my head, I press my lips to her cheek. “Let’s get you inside and warmed up.”
Her hands tighten around me, and I encircle her with my arm to guide her toward the front doors of the Palmer House and a night I’m sure to remember for the rest of my life. She’s not the type of girl you can forget, regardless of how hard you try. Even if she had rejected me and I had left the bar alone, the image of her examining me from across the room would have stuck with me.
Once I get my hands on her, I won’t forget how she feels or the sounds she makes as I plunge into her. It will be one hell of a way to remember my last weekend in Chicago.
We step through the innocuous exterior entry and face the true doors the Palmer House is famous for. Ornate, ten-foot bronze peacocks designed by Tiffany and Co. welcome us, supposedly worth over a million dollars, only a brief glimpse of the grandeur to come when we climb the stairs to the main lobby.
Having a woman this beautiful on my arm in a place this incredible almost seems like a dream.
One I’m not sure I ever want to wake up from.
To already have that thought when I’ve barely touched her makes my chest tighten, but I push away that apprehension in favor of leading her up the steps to the lobby. At the top, she pauses and sucks in a tiny breath, her wide eyes scanning the vast, austere room.
I wrap my arm around her waist from behind and tug her back against me, nuzzling her neck. “We can go sit at the bar and have a few more drinks, pretend to talk when we both really just want to get into the elevator and head up to the room…”
She turns her head toward me, her lips grazing my cheek, and rests her hands on top of mine, her small purse dangling from one. “Let’s get a drink.”
The sly tilt of her lips as she pulls out of my hold makes my cock twitch. Here I thought I was toying with her in the car, keeping her waiting for what she wants, but she’s been playing me since the moment we met—first running the pool table and now leaving me hanging the same way I did her.
That’s fine, though. I love to play games, especially with an opponent like Jack and when I know what I’ll win in the end. Finally driving my cock into her slick heat will be worth the pursuit.
I grin at her and incline my head toward the bar. Jack moves ahead of me, intentionally swaying her shapely hips in the little black dress, her heels clicking on the marble. She glances over her shoulder to ensure I’m following and watching, mischief sparking in her eyes.
This woman is trouble. No doubt about it. But it's exactly the kind of trouble I need tonight.
Jack reaches the main lobby bar and slides onto a stool. Rather than taking a seat beside her, I lean against the bar and nod to the bartender.
He approaches with a friendly smile, tossing a towel over his shoulder. “What can I get for you?”
The feisty redhead who has my entire body coiled and ready to blow leans across the bar toward him slightly, flashing a sweet smile. “I'll have a Jack and Coke.”
I chuckle again at her choice of fake name. “Give me a Blanton’s neat.”
Our bartender hurries off to make our order, and Jack spins on the stool toward me, uncrossing and recrossing her legs—the smooth expanse of exposed skin making my fingers itch to touch her.
She scans the lobby and focuses on the Louis Pierre Rigal mural on the ceiling. “This really is incredible.”
I step forward between her legs, sliding my hands across her thighs to widen them, and her warm body practically hums against mine. “I’m surprised you've never been here before since you’ve always lived in the city.”
A mirthless laugh falls from her lips as she stares up. “It isn't really my family's vibe.”
Her mysterious comments about her family shouldn’t bother me so much. We made a deal to leave the outside world there tonight and not to worry about it. But Jack is so opinionated, so direct that I have a hard time wrapping my head around her easily complying with parents who try to control her life. “You're what…twenty-two? Why not just leave if you don't want to be here, if you don’t want to deal with the way your parents treat you?”
She returns her focus to me, lips pressed into a tight line. “Like I said, it's complicated.” Her hands shift up my body, pressing against my abs and up to my chest as she tightens her legs around me. “But tonight doesn't have to be.”
No. It doesn’t.
It seems both of us need the same thing—an escape. And we can find it in each other for a brief moment in time before I face my future in NOLA and she returns to whatever complications weigh on her with her family here.
I nod. “Then, we're in agreement.”
The bartender reappears and slides our drinks across to us.
