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“Why? So you can go back out there and rub up against some other guy? I don’t think so.” He moved even closer, until the heat from her hot little body joined with the floral scent of her shampoo or perfume or whatever the hell it was to make him lightheaded.
She lifted her chin, but the tough-girl shie
ld wavered. Her blue eyes settled on his, dropped to his lips. Those long fingers of hers curled into his shirt to tangle tight in the fabric. “I don’t like being pushed around.”
“That makes two of us,” he said. “And I’ve had enough of you flaunting your assets for every dick in this bar.”
“That’s not what I’m doing.”
“Bullshit.” Common sense told him he was heading into no-man’s-land where only bad things happened. But instead of listening to those good ol’ instincts that had kept him alive for thirty-five years, he braced a hand against the wall and leaned toward her mouth. “You want to get felt up in the middle of a club? Fine. We’ll do it right here.”
Her eyes shot back to his. “You wouldn’t dare.”
“Wouldn’t I? This is what you said you wanted, isn’t it? In yer suite? So come on with it. Let’s get busy. I’m ready right now.”
She drew two quick breaths, a woman not quite as confident as she’d been moments before, which was just what he wanted. “I—I changed my mind.”
He stared at her lips, millimeters from his own, and debated. Thanks to her little proposition earlier in the day, he now knew how soft and lush and perfect those lips were. How they felt against his. What kind of fire brewed inside her. And now—as it had been then—it was all he could do not to dive in and let go.
But he wouldn’t. Because he was smart enough to know one taste wouldn’t be enough. Not with her. Before he could change his mind, he moved back an inch. “I thought so.”
Challenge flared in her eyes a split second before her hand shifted from his chest to the back of his neck. She pulled hard. Before he realized what she was doing, her mouth was on his.
Something snapped in his brain, pushed all rational thought to the wayside. Instead of pulling back, instead of telling her the night was over and driving her back to her hotel, he let her kiss him. He let her pull him into her touch, let her slide her tongue into his mouth. Let her take whatever she wanted.
Hot damn, she was on fire. Her taste seared deep, a hint of the fruity alcoholic drink she’d been sipping sliding from her tongue to his. Her mouth was wet and warm and so damn inviting his groin tightened and his pulse pounded in his veins. But it wasn’t until she moaned that he lost all control.
The dream—the X-rated one that had left him hot and sweaty with a massive boner the last few nights—spiraled to the front of his gray matter. Urgency pressed in. Took over. Demanded more. He kissed her deeper, stroked her tongue faster, pushed his hips into hers, pinning her against the wall so he could feel every inch of her supermodel curves against his own.
He’d kissed a lot of women. Had been kissed by just as many. And when done properly, he considered kissing an art form. With Lauren Kauffman, though, it wasn’t art. It was a frantic race to the finish. To see who would break first. Instead of one taste satisfying his curiosity, he wanted more. More of her mouth, more of her skin, more of everything. He wanted to possess her on a level he’d never experienced.
His hand dropped from the wall to her waist. The other tangled in her long, silky hair to tug her head back so he could show her with his tongue what he wanted to do to her body. As his mouth moved to her ear, then her neck, sampling her delectable skin, her fingers gripped his shoulders, slid down his sides, landed on his hips and tugged him close so his erection pressed into her belly.
“Tierney . . . oh, God.”
His pulse picked up speed. He pressed into her. Sucked on her neck. Pressed again. She moaned her approval, pushed against him, gripped his head in both hands and brought his mouth back to hers. One long, luscious, bare leg lifted around the outside of his thigh to rub against his jeans, easing his cock down into the vee created by her body.
Oh, man, she was hot. Fire gathered in his groin, turned his blood to a roar in his ears. His hand dropped to her bare thigh, slid beneath her skirt to grip her tight ass. She moaned into his mouth, wrapped her arms around his shoulders and lifted herself higher, granting him access. His fingers found only skin, juicing his need. His hand slid lower, searching. When he grazed the thin strip of cotton that was her thong, he followed it until his fingers pressed against her swollen center.
“Tierney . . .”
He wanted to touch her skin, needed to know if she was . . .
“Fuck, you’re wet,” he said as his fingers slid under her panties and into her slick folds.
She groaned as he stroked her, pulled his mouth back to hers again and kissed him deep. He wanted to unzip his pants, lift her around the waist and slide inside her, but hearing her moan, watching her writhe, feeling her hips moving against his hand was too damned erotic. He pushed his thigh between hers, continued to kiss her like a man starved, stroked her faster and slid his other hand across her chest to graze her nipples.
Her entire body tightened. She pulled free of his mouth, closed her eyes and tipped her head back on a long moan. Knowing she was about to peak, he latched on to her earlobe with his mouth and let her ride his hand until she came, the sound of her release pushing him from crazed to out of control in the breadth of a heartbeat.
He let go of her leg, reached for the button on his jeans. The rasp of the door at the base of the stairs opening and closing froze his hand against his waistband.
Lauren went still, too, but her chest continued to rise and fall with her rapid breaths as she peered over his shoulder into the dark. No one came up the stairs. No one said a word. Whoever had pushed the door open had obviously changed his mind.
Lauren released a long breath. In the little bit of light shining down from above, Finn saw her kiss-me lips curve in a seductive smile seconds before she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and leaned into him. “Where were we?”
About to make one monumental mistake.
Perspiration dotted Finn’s forehead. What the hell was he doing? He pushed back from Lauren, his cock still at rock-hard attention but his brain now firing, at least on a few measly cylinders.
