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“A face-off?” I speak for Kara and myself with the lower-registered query, thrown to Veronica as soon as we step away from the chaos. “Should we be excited or scared?”
Veronica laughs and flutters a hand. “It’s all in good fun. I promise. The hotel’s new owners want to show off the private social spaces downstairs, so they’ve pledged five hundred thousand dollars to the targeted earthquake relief fund of the winning team’s choice.”
Kara’s posture tightens. “The winning team…atwhat?”
A new flitting motion from Veronica. “Oh, they have all kinds of things down there. I mean, a swimming match just isn’t possible, and the virtual reality studio will muss your makeup even more, so they’ll likely have you in the VIP bowling lounge.”
“Bowling?” Kara’s blurt slams the air before I can rustle half a chuckle. “What I mean is, how are we supposed to make that work?” she adds in a worried rush. “Kell and her leg… She’s been on it all night, so the injury has to be barking at her by now. Has anyone asked her about how she f—”
“Your sister was the one who suggested it, dear.”
Kara chuckles despite a small groan. Thankfully, Veronica is pulled aside by some friends and hardly notices either. Though I sense an eyeroll is next from my beloved, it never manifests.
“Of course she did,” she mutters instead, even making a point to throw out a few cutesister showdownjibes at the reporters who linger long enough to follow our stroll to the hotel’s service elevator.
Her private gripe lends enough strength for half a smile and an approving wave when Veronica is pulled aside by some friends just before we get to the elevator. She lingers for some obligatory chit-chat with them, meaning we get the sudden treat of a private elevator ride.
Outwardly, the situation lightens Kara even more. But once it’s really just the two of us in the lift, heading down to the social club level, I pick up on the deeper layers of the woman’s energy. More of the unsettled nerves. The tension, stronger than before, that skims just below the surface of her composure. This clattering steel box likely isn’t helping things, either.
“Hey.” I tug her close, doubly grateful that Veronica had to hang back with the gabby gal-pals. Kara and I are alone except for a small security camera and a linen napkin that must have escaped a room service cart. I don’t care about either as I pull her all the way in, not relenting until her sweet curves are flush against me. “Your mom had it right, you know. This is supposed to be some good fun.”
“Fun?” She’s only half teasing, though I grin when she tries for a punctuating laugh. “You do remember the time I told you that I suck at bowling, right?”
I push my chin against her forehead. “Full disclosure. So do I.” A few inches down, and our mouths are aligned. I lift her face by cupping her cheek and then cover her with a tender kiss. “But now we’ll suck together. And for a good cause. And you’ll still be the hottest woman in the lanes. And after we’re eviscerated, you’ll still have the right to crow. Because everyone will know what I plan on doing with youafterthe game.”
New light dances in her gorgeous brown eyes. But my heart waits to stop during the moment she winds her hold around my neck, gifting me with a meaningful smile across her lush lips.
“You’re taking me out for a chocolate malt and fries?”
I kiss her again. Longer. Deeper. No male on earth would blame me if they heard what this woman’s rasp does to the wordfries. Just the mental replay of it has me plunging my tongue between her lips and shifting my hold to the perfect swells of her backside.
And now, contemplating if anyone would miss this elevator for ten minutes if I leaned back and pressed the elevator’s Stop button…
CHAPTER EIGHT
KARA
I don’t have to see into his spirit to know the intention of his desire. It’s apparent in more obvious places.
Better places.
The thick blue flames in his eyes. The searing breaths from his slightly parted lips. And best of all, the growing ridge between his thighs. The place I work with my own burning center, stirring the brew of our lust into an elixir we won’t be able to deny. Or stop.
Stop. Stop. Stop.
I program the word on a loop, messaging it to him without mercy. Out loud, I give him the orders to back it up.
“Maximus.Please.Push the button.”
Now, now, now.
Stop us. Stop this. Stop the whole damn world.
“Please…push it…”
My husks are rough and low and aching, drenched in the need that overrides my manners, modesty—and even my sense of duty. And how isthateven happening? No matter how deeply Mother digs her fingers into arrangements at events like these, I never lose track of the real reasons they exist. My onus to the organizations they help. The people who are out there on a daily basis, giving and doing for others. But right now…
Oh God…
