We finished checkin' in and rode the elevator to the seventeenth floor in silence. I held the door and she walked through. I followed her down the hall, slid the key card, pushed the door open, and stood back.
She stopped just inside the doorway.
The suite had one wall that was almost entirely glass—floor to ceiling, corner to corner. Beyond it, Bozeman spread out below and the valley opened up and the mountains came up out of it sudden and enormous.
She stood there for a moment. Then she walked to the windows and said it matter-of-fact, the way she said most things that cost her something.
"I've never stayed in a hotel before."
Never been on a date. Never stayed in a hotel.
Easy to please, this one. If you knew where to look.
I crossed the room to her. She turned before I got there. I tipped her face up, and I kissed her—not slow, not soft, nothin' like the kiss at the axe bar.
This kiss was a promise. A fuckin' declaration. The kind that said I'm about to take you apart in this hotel room and I'm not gonna rush a single second of it.
Her fingers curled into the front of my shirt—her tell. Always grabbin' on when her body got ahead of her brain. I broke the kiss just long enough to pull my shirt over my head, and Calvin's eyes dropped to my chest with a hunger that had my cock strainin' against my jeans.
"Strip," I said.
Her brow arched. "Excuse me?"
"You heard me." I took a step back and crossed my arms. "Strip. Slow."
The corner of her mouth twitched. It was another little tell she had before she decided whether to fight me or fuck me. Tonight, she was choosin' both. She grabbed the hem of her shirt and pulled it over her head in one fluid motion, tossin' it aside without ceremony. No bra underneath. Hadn't been wearin' one all damn day—again—which had been a special kind of torture I was about to collect on.
Her tits were perfect. Full and round with dark nipples already peaked hard in the cool air of the suite. My mouth watered.
She popped the button on her pants next, wiggled them down her hips with a deliberate sway that had me clenchin' my fists to stop from lunging for her. Black lace underneath.Of fuckin' course.
"Those too."
She hooked her thumbs in the waistband and slid them down her thighs, steppin' out and kickin' 'em toward me with her bare foot like a dare.
And there she was, in all her fuckin' glory. Naked in front of a wall of glass with the Bozeman skyline spread out behind her, mountains catchin' the last of the daylight. Like someone had commissioned a painting just for me. One with dark hair, tattooed arms, a body that could bring a man to his knees—and frequently did.
I closed the distance between us. She tilted her chin up, expectin' a kiss. Instead, I gripped her hips, turned her around, and walked her forward until her chest pressed flat against the glass.
She gasped—sharp, surprised—and her hands flew up, palms flat against the window. Her tits pressed against the cool surface, and I watched from over her shoulder as they flattened and spread, nipples dragging against the glass when she squirmed.
Jesus fucking Christ.
The visual alone nearly ended me.
"Brody—" Her breath fogged the glass.
I pressed my front to her back, lettin' her feel every inch of what she did to me through the denim of my jeans. One hand slid up her side, between her and the glass until I palmed her breast, kneading slow, while the other traced the curve of her hip, her ass, the heat between her thighs.
"Can't decide what I wanna fuck first," I murmured against her ear. My hand drifted lower, fingers teasin' through her slick center. She was soaked. "These tits." I squeezed the one in my hand and she whimpered. "Your sweet pussy." I dragged two fingers through her folds, circlin' her clit once before pullin' away. Her hips chased my hand. "Or this tight little ass."
I punctuated that last one by slidin' my hand back and draggin' one slick finger over the puckered ring of muscle between her cheeks. Her whole body shuddered against mine, and a sound tore outta her that fogged the window all over again.
"All of the above," she panted, pressin' her forehead to the glass. "I don't care. Just—fuck, Brody—pick one, and stop teasin' me."
"Mmm." I kissed the spot just below her ear, the one that always made her knees threaten to buckle. "Thought you liked bein' in charge."
"Not tonight." The words came out small and raw and honest in a way that hit me somewhere deep. "Tonight I just want you."
