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Her words draw me in, and I can’t stop my fingers from gently grabbing a curl of hair that’s hanging by the side of her face, twirling it around my finger. “I like you, too. Definitely made this whole interview thing a hell of a lot better than I thought it’d be.”
All too soon, the car stops at the curb in front of her apartment. It’s late, after two in the morning, and the street is dark and deserted. When the guard opens the door, I get out too. “Gonna walk her up.”
The guard takes another look around, then dips his chin once. I chuckle. I’ve already ditched the hat and changed shirts. The most noticeable thing about me right now is the Town Car with a muscle-bound man in black in the front seat.
As we get a few feet away, Elise whispers. “That is so weird. That’s one scary ass dude.”
I laugh. Our thoughts are so similar. “He’s just doing his job, and I appreciate that. I try not to be an annoying asshole that makes the security team’s life hard, but I couldn’t sit in the car and watch you walk to the door alone. Better say good night at the door though. If I try to go up, he’ll shit a brick.”
Elise stops on the steps by the door, turning to face me, and puts her hands on my chest. “Probably best if you don’t come up anyway. I’m not sure I have the willpower to not . . .” She stops, and fuck, do I wish she’d finish that sentence, tell me what she’d do if we weren’t fighting this thing between us.
Before I can ask, she leans in, kissing my cheek with her velvety soft lips before moaning lightly.
She lingers, and I can’t take it, groaning. “Fuck it, Elise.”
I pull her closer, encircling her waist in my arms, and turn to take her mouth once again. She’s right there with me, kissing me back as she wraps her arms around my neck.
I squeeze her ass, knowing she’s likely sore from the earlier spanking, and she cries out softly, opening her mouth, and I take advantage, invading her with my tongue to taste her.
Easing the sting, I rub her cheeks through the denim, cupping her and pressing her against my raging cock. From behind us, I hear a polite interrupting cough.
Shit, the bodyguard and the driver. I forgot about them, lost in Elise . . . again. Literally minutes after agreeing that we can’t do this, and I’m holding her, the two of us making out like horny teenagers at the end of prom night. I take a big breath, pressing my forehead to hers and firmly cupping her face.
“I have to go. Now. Or I’m gonna throw you over my shoulder, run to your apartment, and bury my cock in your pussy so deep, so hard, you’ll feel empty without me there.”
She shudders, placing her hands over mine and squeezing. “You do have to go. Because if you do that, I’m sure as fuck gonna let you. Hell, I’d beg for it. But . . . we can’t.”
Grinding my teeth, I agree. “We can’t.”
“We have a dinner interview tomorrow. That still okay?”
I laugh softly, inhaling the scent of her hair, the innate purity underneath the scent of beer and sweat from the bar. “I’ll probably still be jacking off from the raging blue balls you’ve given me tonight . . . repeatedly.”
Elise leans in and whispers in my ear. “If it’ll help . . . my vibrator might need new batteries by morning.”
I moan, knowing exactly what she’ll be doing and wishing I were the one doing it to her. “Fuck. I’ll see you tomorrow, and I promise to behave if you do.”
She’s quiet, not promising me back but still with that little smile on her face. “Elise?” I question. “Do we have a deal?”
She grins, but sassy as fuck and not apologetic at all. “Sorry, yeah. Behave. I was just picturing you stroking that thick cock I felt in your jeans, coming all over your hand but still not stopping because you’re still rock-hard . . . for me.”
I growl, but instead of grabbing her like I want to, I step back. It’s the hardest thing I’ve ever done. “Watch it, woman. Don’t poke the bear. You just might get attacked. See you tomorrow night.”
She doesn’t answer, just nods and smiles, but as I turn toward the car, I hear her hushed whisper. “I fucking hope so.”
By lunchtime, I’ve already made up my mind about Elise and our situation. That is, before changing it at least twenty times.
Maybe we could have a little fun after the interviews are done and with a clear understanding that whatever things we get up to are not to be written about. There’s a chance we could be . . . well, I don’t know, fuck buddies? Friends with very good benefits? More? the little voice in my head whispers to me in my weaker moments.
