Page 14 of Hearts Storm

My head spins, overwhelmed by the intensity of his touch. His other hand slides down to my hip, fingers digging in as he melds his hard body against mine. I can feel every ridge of muscle, every long, hard inch of him.

The elevator dings, signaling our floor.

Breaking the kiss, his breathing is ragged as he stares down at me with dark, hooded eyes.

Lips swollen, my body aches for more.

“This way,” he orders, voice rough as he takes my hand again, leading me down the hallway.

My legs are practically jelly as we walk, my mind replaying the feel of his mouth on mine. When we reach our destination, he fumbles with the key card, hand shaking slightly. It’s the first sign of vulnerability I’ve seen from him all night.

When he pushes open the door, I follow him inside, gasping when I see the room laid out before us.

The suite is luxurious.

Floor-to-ceiling windows overlook the river and a bank of lights beyond. Soft lighting from strategically placed lamps cast everything in a warm glow. To my left is a lounge area, complete with a couple of cream-colored, cushy-looking sofas with a low, square dark wooden coffee table sitting in-between.

I grin to myself, thinking of what kind of mess we could make on it.

Through the bedroom door to my right, I catch a glimpse of a massive king-size bed. Dressed with a fluffy white comforter, a row of pillows sits stacked against a leather headboard.

“I hate to sound crass, but are you like a millionaire or some shit?”

“What? No. Why do you ask?”

“Because this suite looks expensive.”

“Brex’s brother has someone that owes him big time for saving his life or some shit.”

“Brex?”

He raises an eyebrow. “My buddy from the club.”

“Oh, right.”

Brex. Hell’s bells. Even his name is hot.

“So,” Broody rumbles, snagging my attention as he steps into me. Chest rising and falling, he runs a hand through his hair. “You want a drink or⁠—”

I move in, cutting him off as I meld my mouth to his. No talking. No thinking. I just want to feel.

Wrapping his arms tightly around my waist, he pulls me flush against him as he deepens our kiss.

I tangle my fingers in his hair and give it a tug.

The sound of his groan vibrates through me. “Bed,” he murmurs against my mouth. “Now.”

Tongues tangling, he guides me backward into the bedroom until my legs hit the edge of the mattress. As he lays me down, I scoot back toward the middle of the bed, and he follows. His weight wedges me between him and the mattress, lips trailing down my neck, teeth grazing my skin as his hands roam and squeeze.

“Fuck. This is all I’ve been thinking about since the moment I first laid eyes on you,” he confesses, voice raspy. “Couldn’t get you out of my head.”

“Prove it,” I murmur, reaching for the hem of his shirt. “Show me everything you’ve been thinking about doing to me.”

His eyes darken as he sits up, reaching behind him to yank his shirt over his head.

My breath catches at the sight. His naked chest is all hard planes and defined muscles with a light smattering of dark hair across his pecs. I reach for him, running my hands over his warm skin, reveling in how the ridges of his abs feel beneath my palms.

Brushing my hands away, he tugs at the hem of my T-shirt.