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An hour later, I have to use the bathroom. On my way back to the table, I run into Tristan.
He wraps his arms around me and drops his head, nose pressed into my hair, lips ghosting the column of my throat until they brush my ear. “You do realize the longer you make me wait to get you up to the room, the longer I’ll make you wait for an orgasm, right?”
“I love it when you threaten me with a good time.”
“Tell the girls you need to call it a night, and I won’t keep you on the edge the way you’ve done me for the past two hours.”
“Just let me say good night.”
He narrows his eyes.
I pat his chest. “I’ll be back in five.”
I hug all the girls good night. Hammer’s gone to grab a round of drinks. I spot her at the bar, getting chatted up by some random guy. She flips her hair over her shoulder.
“Check it out,” I say to Hemi.
She follows my gaze. “Roman went up to his room ten minutes ago.”
“What about Hollis? Is he still here to play bodyguard?” I ask.
We scan the bar together.
“There he is, nine o’clock.” Hemi tips her chin in his direction.
He’s standing with Dallas, Ashish, and Shilpa.
I head back to Tristan, who’s leaning casually against the bar. But his gaze is all fiery promises.
He tips his chin at Dallas, Ashish, and Shilpa as we pass.
Hollis isn’t with them anymore. I assume he’s gone to manage the situation with Hammer and the flirty guy. But she’s still talking to him—she’s only half paying attention to what he’s saying, though. I follow her gaze to the elevators, where Hollis is. The doors open, but before he steps over the threshold he glances back. I swear, for a second, a hint of longing crosses his face. Then he disappears inside the elevator, and the doors close behind him.
“Did you see that?”
“See what?” Tristan asks.
“Nothing. Never mind. Let’s go up to the room so you can make me regret wearing this.”
Two guys join us in the elevator, and Tristan slings his arm over my shoulder and pulls me in close. He kisses my temple. They get off on the twelfth floor. We’re on the fifty-third. As soon as we’re alone, he presses me against the mirrored wall. One hand circles my throat, the other finds its way between my legs.
His eyes flare when he skims bare flesh. “Where are your panties?”
“My purse.”
He withdraws his hand and holds it out. “Give them to me.”
I retrieve them and drop them into his open palm.
He rubs the crotch between his fingers. “They’re soaked. Did you take care of yourself in the bathroom? I’ll know if you’re lying,” he warns.
I shake my head.
He glances above the doors. We have twenty floors to go. He lifts the hem of my jersey dress and edges a foot between mine, widening my stance. Tristan drags a single finger up the inside of my right thigh, then brings it to his lips and licks the pad. “I haven’t even touched you yet and you’re dripping wet. Does the idea of getting fucked like a naughty little bunny excite you?”
I bite my lip and nod.
We’re at the fortieth floor now.
“We should stop the leak before you make a mess all over the elevator floor.”
For a second, I’m confused, until he drags my damp panties up the inside of my thigh, then pushes them inside me.
“Oh my fucking God,” I whisper-moan.
His lip curls in a salacious smile as he fills me with my panties. The elevator dings our arrival at the fifty-third floor as he tucks away the last of the fabric and pulls my dress back into place. He laces our fingers, and we stroll leisurely down the hall.
I’m vibrating with anticipation.
The second we’re inside the room, Tristan pins me against the door. His mouth covers mine in a searing kiss, and I try to hook one of my legs around his.
“You think I’m going to let you rub that greedy pussy of yours all over my thigh?” His nose brushes mine as he traps my legs between his. He pushes his hips into me, his erection pressed against my stomach.
I groan as I grip his hair and try to pull his mouth back to mine. He tips his chin up and looks down at me through hooded lids. “Get my cock out.”
I abandon his hair and find his belt. With shaking hands, I free the clasp, pop the button, and drag the zipper down. Tristan makes a deep, needy sound when I slide my hand into his boxer briefs and wrap my fingers around his erection. I free it from the black fabric and stroke from base to tip.
He steps back and arches a brow. “It’s not going to suck itself, is it?”
