When I dip my tongue into her mouth and tease the tip against hers with a little flick, she moans.
When I catch her pouty bottom lip between my teeth and tug, she rolls her hips forward, unabashedly demanding more.
I move her away from the panel of godforsaken elevator buttons and press her against the opposite wall. With my arms framed around her face, I kiss down her jaw, then suck lightly on her neck.
She mewls in response, spurring me on.
Boldly, I dip lower, dragging my tongue through the top of her cleavage. Then I paint more kisses on the hollow of her throat.
“Alaric,” she breathes, chest heaving.
She’s got phenomenal tits. They’re pillowy and full, straining against the fabric of her dress, begging me to set them free and give them the attention they deserve.
I push the thought away. I can’t focus on them right now. Because I want to kiss her again. I want to kiss her until her lips are puffy and swollen and my mind is completely clear.
Because that’s what she does to me.
Evangeline presses her lips to mine, and the world around us falls away. There’s lightness and there’s space; there’s ease and limitless possibility.
I don’t care that this is wrong.
I don’t care that this could ruin me.
I don’t care, I don’t care, I don’t care.
I spend so much time in my own head, considering every move and strategizing every second. Every day I worry about reputations and results. I’m all about the optics, laser focused on changing public opinion, determined to change the minds of the people who would love to see me fail.
I don’t ever have the luxury of not caring.
Except… with Evangeline’s sweet lips moving in tandem with mine, all my cares melt away. My mind is clear and singularly focused on her. My one and only concern is the woman in my arms.
“Wait, Alaric. Stop.”
Heart lurching, I do just that, pulling away a few inches. “Stop?”
“Yes.” She tugs the back of my head so we’re eye to eye. “Stop. We can’t. I—” Her voice cracks, regret puncturing the moment. “I don’t want to get carried away.”
Carried away?
I’m already so far gone I can’t think straight.
Swallowing hard and fighting like hell to catch my breath, I crane back and take her in.
By the way she’s eye-fucking me, painted nails brushing over her swollen lips, she’s not telling me to stop because she doesn’t want this to go any farther. She’s telling me to stop because she thinks it’s for the best. Because she’s concerned about the optics and the fallout. The thoughts that fled from my mind have clearly set up camp in hers. She’s thinking about her reputation. My reputation. My role, both as her superior and as her ex-boyfriend’s father.
“I’m sorry.” I inhale deeply, my lungs desperate for air.
She lingers in my space, polished fingernails tracing along my jaw and raking through the stubble on my face. “I’m not,” she whispers, her lips inches from mine once more.
It takes everything in me not to capture her mouth in another kiss.
“But we’re in an elevator, and the entire paddock is downstairs inthe ballroom,” she reminds me. “I—I don’t want to stop, but I’m afraid if things go any farther, we might do something we regret.”
As much as it pains me to admit, she’s right. I refuse to contribute to her anxiety, and it would kill me if her reputation were tarnished because she was caught alone in an elevator with her team principal.
The team principal, worth noting, who recently took over after the last one was caught soliciting subordinates for sexual favors in exchange for career opportunities.
Fighting back a growl, I run one hand through my hair, no doubt messing up the slicked-back style. Fuck it. I’m not going back down to the party. I’m too pent up, and I’m still livid, even if she won’t tell me what went on between her and my son.
