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There’s no hesitation as I shift away so I can pull his pants down to his thighs. I’m convinced there’s no sexier sight in the world than Oliver Kensington in a tuxedo with ruffled hair and blazing eyes, his rigid erection proudly on display.
His hands slide up my legs, using the leverage to pull me against his body. They move higher and higher, until they rest on my hips.
“You’re not wearing underwear?” The question comes out half-choked.
My face flames. “My suitcase was in your room, and I forgot to…oh.”
I completely forget whatever I was saying, when his hard length rubs against my bare, wet center. Need pools low in my belly as our pelvises grind together, simulating sex. I slide back and forth along his shaft, and Oliver grunts a “Fuck,” his fingers digging into my skin in response to the tantalizing friction.
I reach between our bodies, tracing the throbbing vein that runs the length of his cock before I fist him just beneath the flared head and guide him to my entrance.
He doesn’t push in right away, and I don’t sink down. We’re suspended in a moment of anticipation, and we both know why.
This will be the last time we do this.
There’s going tobea last time.
Oliver’s jaw clenches. And then he pulls me down, forcing me to take him in one swift shove. I gasp, the sound too loud in the silent car, as I adjust to the sudden stretch.
I might have started this, but Oliver is in complete control now. His hands squeeze my hips as he lifts me and then pulls me back down again, filling me over and over again. Heat spreads through my entire body as my breathing picks up, the scent of his cologne mixing with the smell of sweat and sex.
I’m disoriented when he suddenly stops thrusting, glancing out the window and half-expecting to find we’re already at his building. But the car is still rolling along an unfamiliar street.
Oliver lifts me off his lap like I weigh nothing, setting me down on the seat next to him. I blink at him, then open my mouth. “What—”
He silences me with a searing kiss.
I’m falling onto my back, lying on the soft cushions of the car. The seat is long, but not lengthy enough to accommodate Oliver’s six-foot-something frame. He has one foot on the floor of the car as he leans over me. I inhale quickly when his mouth moves along my neck, then traces a path down my chest with his tongue.
“It’s never enough,” he says, sounding angry about it.
And I know exactly what he means. Calling this pull between usattractionseems too tame. It’s an enchantment. An addiction. A compulsion.
He pushes into me more slowly this time, a slow drag that electrifies every nerve ending. I moan, loudly, no longer caring that the driver might hear. Need eradicates any inhibitions. I’ll scream his name for the whole damn city.
My fingers weave into the thick strands of his hair, mussing it even more as Oliver rocks his hips into mine. His lips find mine again, a deep, erotic possession that sneaks down my spine in rivulets of heat. The friction is indescribable, pleasure bubbling inside of me like a shaken bottle of champagne ready to explode. The thick invasion of his cock and the grind against my clit is all it takes for release to pulse through me. Oliver continues thrusting, and it goes on and on in endless, blissful waves.
I feel him swell, followed by the unfamiliar spill of heat as he comes inside of me.
Oliver doesn’t move off me right away. When he does, it feels like a loss. He doesn’t make any attempt to fix his hair or bowtie, just pulls up his pants and refastens his belt. I straighten my dress, pressing my thighs together beneath the fabric.
The car comes to a stop outside his building.
“You were wrong.”
I look over, but Oliver is staring out the window. “About what?”
“Marrying you being on my list of regrets.”
He opens his door and steps outside.
CHAPTERTWENTY-SIX
OLIVER
New York appears as sleepy as I feel, the streets nearly empty this early on a Sunday. Even amidst the skyscrapers that house the most profitable businesses in the country. In the world.
I cover a yawn as I step outside of the car, buttoning my coat against the morning chill. Walk past the manicured hedges and the trickling fountain, wondering what I’m headed toward.
