Page 71 of Wicked Heat

The question came unbidden, and he shoved it aside. Right now, he cared only about this moment. Right now, he only wanted to touch Bree.

With her ass nestled against his cock, he slid one arm around her neck, locking her in place. He felt her stiffen, and in the next heartbeat, he remembered who he was holding. The horror that she’d been through when she’d been taken.

He released his chokehold, then took a step back.

“Stay.”

Her whisper was barely audible, and he froze.

“Not like that.” He moved closer, his palms light atop her bare shoulders and her back against his chest. “I don’t have to hold you like that.”

“What if—what if I want you to?”

He closed his eyes, certain he should refuse, but also hearing the plea in her voice. As if this was a test. Not of him, but of herself.

Then, without a word, he put his arm around her neck again. She exhaled, one tight little puff of breath, then arched back, surrendering to him. Humbling him.

Slowly, he traced his other hand down, starting at her breasts, then easing over her ribs, then over her flat belly until he reached the smooth, waxed skin of her pussy. She made a whimpering noise, and when she shifted her stance to spread her legs a bit more, the certainty that she wanted his touch as much as he craved her slammed through him with full force.

He stroked his hand down, his fingertips rejoicing in the feel of her smooth skin, his lips parting in a low groan as he went lower still and found her slick and wet and needy.

He didn’t tease her. Didn’t play with her clit or trace softly over her labia. Instead, he thrust two fingers inside her, then held her tight as her back arched and her core clenched around his fingers.

“That’s it, baby. Tell me you want it.”

“Yes,” she murmured as her hips moved and her breathing quickened. She was so close, and he wanted to take her over. Wanted to be the man who made her explode.

But he wanted more, too. And he was damn certain that she did as well.

All she had to do was beg…

He withdrew his fingers, then slowly teased her clit as she murmured, “No, Ash, please. Don’t stop. Please, don’t stop.”

He bent to whisper in her ear. “Tell me what you want, baby. Beg for it.”

“Bastard.” But the word was a breath, and he heard the humor under the frustration.

Once again, he thrust two fingers deep inside her, teasing that sensitive G-spot as she writhed against him, her body craving everything he had to give, and her cry of, “More, Ash, please more,” sounded so wild and desperate they could probably hear it down on the strip.

“That’s it, baby,” he said as he stroked and teased, wanting to take her over. Wanting to hold her close as she exploded in his arms. He didn’t know what had happened to her when she’d been taken, but he could imagine.

And he would make it his personal mission to burn her fear to the ground, then build her back up with nothing but pleasure. “Beg me,” he whispered. “Come on, baby. Beg me.”

“Ash,” she murmured. “I want⁠—”

Ping!

The sharp chime of the elevator startled them both, and as Ash spit out a curse, she broke from his embrace to scoot out of sight on the far side of the glass patio doors.

“Dammit, I’m so sorry.” He held up a finger to indicate he’d be right back, then hurried through the open doorway intent on strangling David or Mina.

Except it was his own ass he needed to kick. He’d locked down the elevator for the evening, but he hadn’t turned on the Do Not Disturb function. And absent that command, the staff was authorized to reactivate the elevator in order to deliver urgent mail or packages to the entryway table.

But who the hell would be sending him something tonight?

He’d know in a second, he thought, as the elevator doors parted, and David stepped out.

“Mr. Stone. Sorry to disturb, but this was delivered by a local messenger and was marked urgent.”