My words halt, my breath half in and half out as he simultaneously grasps my wrist and takes the water from my hand. He throws the bottle onto the bed behind me. Without another word spoken, he begins to wrap my ponytail around his hand.
“I’m going to take you to bed now.”
“Good.” I try again, this time without the squeak. “I’d like that.”
“But there are one or two things we should discuss first.”
“Sure.” I’ve never touched him before, yet my fingers are drawn to his chest like iron filings to a magnet. He feels so solid under my hands, familiar yet strange, all kinds of wonderful, and not at all dream-like.I want more, I think. As my fingers reach to loosen the buttons of his shirt. Like a cartographer with a new land, I want to chart every valley and hill of him. Every dip and peak. “Oh.” The sound is low and not at all pained, my head pulled back thanks to Whit’s quick tug.
“Pay attention, Amelia.”
“I am,” I almost moan. Who knew my hair follicles were connected somewhere south of my torso?
“You shouldn’t be here, but I’ve realized I’ve been fighting the inevitable since you found yourself in my living room.”
“Still not sorry.”
“Yes. That’s still apparent. It’s also part of the problem. You should be sorry, and I don’t know why you’re not. And I shouldn’t be thinking of little else but making you come again and again.” Holy heck. I like confessional Whit. “I don’t profess to have the answers, but I think I have the solution.”
I make a noise that sounds likedo tell.Or maybe justdo me.
“If you’re going back to Florida in six months—”
“I am.” I try to nod, butow!The sensation is not the same. “I am going back.” I don’t really have any choice. “Less than six now.”
“Then I think I can teach you a few things.”
“Oh?”
“Wipe the smile off your face,” he says, smiling himself. “I really can’t believe I’m suggesting this,” he adds a little more unhappily.
“You haven’t said what you’re suggesting yet. Maybe I won’t agree.”
“Amelia.” There he goes making my name a reprimand again. “I wrapped my fist in your hair while you stood as meek as a lamb, and not ten minutes ago you let the inhabitants of this very prestigious building know you were experiencing the orgasm of your life.”
“But the elevator isn’t for public use,” I answer uncertainly. “There were no cameras.” Were there?
“The car might’ve gone down. God knows I can’t wait to.” The first part of his answer bypasses my brain as the second twines around my insides like lustful ivy. “The doors could’ve opened at the foyer. Regardless, I’m sure your cries carried to the concierge and security teams.”
I eye him narrowly. Is he trying to scare me off? I’d raise my chin, but I’ve already made that mistake once. “Why do I have to be the only one embarrassed? It took two of us to make that noise.”
His mouth twitches though he masters his smile. “You’re such a pretty little thorn in my side. But we’re getting off track.” Being on track apparently includes kissing, his hand finding my hip, his head bending to mine. Warm lips feather and tease, nipping my bottom lip before withdrawing just as quick. Thanks to how he holds my hair, I can’t follow, but that doesn’t stop my protest as I fasten my fingers around his bicep. He abandons his retreat, his mouth returning. His second kiss is firmer, his tongue tasting faintly of me.The thumb he licked. Why is that such a turn-on?
“Six months.” His words skate over my jaw, and he molds his lips over my pulse point, still holding me immobile by the hair.As though it wasn’t already stuttering enough.“Or what’s left of it.”
“Yes.” I’d melt against him if only he’d give me the opportunity. “Six months is long enough.” Six months are all I have.
“Professionalism in the office. No more tricks.” His lips skate over my jaw, his tiger eyes shining as they flick up and meet my own before his lashes drop as though to veil his thoughts.
“It was a nail,” I protest even as I feel the shape of his upturned lips.
“Outside of that, I’ll give you what you want. I’ll give you the experiences you want. But make no mistake, it can only ever be sex.”
“That’s all I want,” I breathe, wondering how much longer before my knees give out and my hair is yanked from the roots. That’s all it can be.
“That’s settled then.” I feel the loss of his heat immediately when he releases my ponytail and steps back. “Take off your dress.”
A cold, clinical command, contradicted by his heated expression and the proud outline of his cock in his pants.His cock.How many times have I imagined it? Let me put it this way: if I had a dollar for each time I’d closed my eyes and conjured it, I’d have a very fat piggy bank.
