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God, I want to turn and run. Or run to him.
Neither of us moves. Then, the door beeps, and I stumble into the lobby. Shaken into action, he comes close until he’s towering over me. I don’t know if it’s how many nights I lay awake thinking about him, but it feels like years since we saw each other.
“Hi,” I whisper. My voice cracks.
His hand comes up. I catch it in my periphery, and he takes me by the base of the neck. When he kisses me, everything goes so quiet. We’re completely alone, no longer in a lobby surrounded by strangers. There’s nothing but his taste, his warmth, the press of his body against mine.
Everything is calm.
This needs to stop while we’re out in the open. Breaking contact, I push him away, head swiveling to scan the room.
“You can’t do that,” I hiss.
He rolls his eyes, taking my bag and slinging it over his shoulder. “Come on then.”
I let him take my hand. We move through the lobby and turn the corner to the elevators. The tension vibrates through me like I’m holding a live wire. I’m going to explode. Ding—the elevator slides open. He ushers me inside. The doors slam shut.
“What about here?” he says.
I glance sideways at him.
“You can wait.”
He leans his head against the wall, releasing a pent-up sigh. “You’re gonna make me work for it, huh?”
“Should I?”
He flicks his gaze down at me, then away. The elevator slides to a stop.
“I always put in the work,” he says.
We step off the elevator, and his hard palm settles on my lower back. It’s a little pushy. Maybe it’s eagerness. Whichever it is, he steers me firmly along the hall and loops his arm around my waist in front of room 513. I don’t know why I’m burning up, dying inside. It’s not like this is the first time we’ve fucked.
I’m starting to doubt it’ll be the last time.
It has to be. I can’t keep doing this.
We step inside. His bag is by the bed, still upright and zipped. He drops my luggage and turns, taking me by the waist. My ears roar. He dips in, and his mouth meets mine in an open-mouthed, hungry kiss. Rough, insistent hands steer me backward to the bed. I’m dimly aware of him pushing me up the mattress and climbing atop me. One knee shoves my legs apart so he can sink between my thighs.
“Fuck,” he groans, running his lips from mine to the side of my neck.
My body burns. Without meaning to, my hips work against his, trying to rock against his erection.
“Goddamn,” he says. “I missed this.”
I don’t know what to say. I also missed this feeling of being high on him so much. I’m soaked already; it’s making my panties stick to my skin. His hand slides beneath my sweatshirt, and he pauses and lifts his head.
“What’s this?”
Oh, I forgot about the lingerie.
“Something you don’t deserve,” I say.
He pulls my shirt up to expose my bra. His chest expands sharply. Rough fingertips trace over the silk straps beneath my breasts, running up to the transparent lace over them. A sharp sting of pleasure aches between my thighs when he touches my right nipple.
“I forgot you have the prettiest goddamn tits I’ve ever seen,” he murmurs, transfixed.
I ache, hips pressing up. He looks at me, and for the first time, looks deeply into my eyes. And I catch a flickering light in his. A readable emotion—softness, desire. My stomach drops like a rock in deep water. This is escalating out of control. If we don’t stop, we’ll both be too tangled up to leave each other without devastation. Maybe we’re past that point already.
