Page 42 of Hard Pass

CHAPTER TEN

Dublin

Five Years Ago

The elevator hums and begins to ascend.

I laugh. The sound is breathless and a little wild. He answers it with another kiss—deeper this time—like he’s claiming something he hasn’t earned.

And I’m letting him, because tonight I’m not Dublin Locke—steady and dependable.

At least that’s what I keep repeating to feed my courage, silence the doubt, and own the lust.

The elevator doors slide open with a second to spare before we start disrobing and we race toward my room. His hand is on my hip, and my heart is in my throat.

The door to my room barely clicks shut before he’s on me again. It’s not graceful in the least. It’s laughter and the kind of urgency that makes it impossible to tell where one moment ends and the next begins.

My back hits the door as his fingertips skim the span of my stomach before lifting my shirt over my head.

We both groan as his wide palms run up the sides of my torso and then I’m laughing again. Head back, kiss broken, giggling.

“This is a terrible idea,” I say as his hand cups the back of my neck and brings my lips to his again.

“Agreed.” His tongue delves back between my lips. “Terrible.”

But neither of us stops.

His mouth slides to my jaw, to my neck, and I tilt my head without thinking to grant him whatever access he wants.

“Trouble never tasted so good,” he murmurs as he licks a line up the side of my throat to end at my ear. “So goddamn good.”

I huff out a breathless laugh as his mouth meets mine again. There’s no slow build with this kiss, no careful pacing—just a collision of lips and breath and the kind of chemistry that makes it impossible to think past the next second.

I laugh into his mouth when we both stumble, knocking into the edge of the bed.

“Graceful,” I murmur.

“You didn’t single me out because of my gracefulness,” he says, grinning as he steadies me, his forehead dropping briefly to mine. “You still with me, Trouble?”

“Barely,” I tease. “How are we even standing straight?”

“We’re not. The room’s spinning.”

“Good,” I say because that somehow makes this all easier. “That’ll give us both the excuse to not remember any of this in the morning.”

“Isn’t that the point?” he asks. “What you wanted? That you got the star player everyone wanted—the notch on your belt—and then can walk away to brag about it?”

“What?” I ask, eyes trying to snap open but falling heavy with desire as his hand slips between my thighs and robs me of any coherent thought.

“You picked me.” A nip at my lips. A grind of his hips against mine. “Too late now.”

I chuckle, the sound breaking apart as his mouth finds mine again, everything tilting. I stop trying to track what’s happening and just let it be.

My hands sliding down his chest and under his waistband.

His groan in my ears.

His fingertips fluttering over the outside of my underwear.