Her lips curved at that. Her eyes were still shut, her skin flushed. He pressed his fingers into the softness of her flesh and lowered his mouth to hers, feeling the rush of air against his skin as he closed the minute distance between them.
Her lips were soft and sweet. They parted on a sigh and he slid his tongue against her, inside her. Blood rushed to his groin as she licked him back. Cupping her jaw with his strong palm, he kissed her confidently, his mouth curling against hers as she moaned softly and wrapped her arms around him.
His heart raged
against his ribcage, hot blood pumping through him as she arched her body against his. He was achingly hard, the throb between his thighs matching the pulse in his neck. Becca’s hands slid inside his jacket, her fingers tugging at his shirt until she touched his skin. She rolled her hips and the pressure sent him crazy, kissing her harder until he couldn’t remember where she ended and he began. It was a dance as old as time. Choreographed by their intense need for each other. There was only one ending, and he knew he would make it good for her.
“Mr. Carter, is there a problem?” The voice echoed through the speaker. He looked up and saw a camera, his eyes blinking in surprise.
“Damn.” He pulled away from her, tugging her dress down from where it had ridden up against him. Becca’s eyelids opened. She looked dazed.
“No problem,” he said, pressing the speaker, followed by the penthouse button. His voice was thick with need. “Goodnight.”
“Goodnight, sir.” The speaker clicked off and a moment later the doors to the penthouse lobby opened. Daniel stalked out, his jaw tight, his body still reacting to Becca’s closeness.
He heard her exit behind him, her heels clicking against the tiled floor. For a moment he kept his back to her, willing his body to calm.
When he turned around to look at her, there were two red circles on her cheeks, and her hair was falling out of her curled bun. She was staring up at him, as though she was waiting for an explanation.
One he had no idea how to give.
“I’m sorry.” He shook his head. “I overstepped.” He pressed the code to the door, standing aside to let her in. “You should go to bed.”
Becca stopped walking. He hated the hurt expression in her eyes. She’d done nothing but help him today. From the moment he’d called her at the distillery, all through the interminable dinner with his family. And even then, in the elevator, she’d been the bravest person he knew.
He’s asked her what she wanted and she’d told him. He’d given it to her. And now he was going crazy. Torn between wanting to taste her all over again and doing the right thing and heading to bed.
Not to sleep, because god knew he wouldn’t be able to. But to put distance between them. And two thin walls. The only defenses he had left.
“I need to check my insulin levels and take a shower,” he said, as much to himself as her. “Do you have everything you need?”
She nodded silently.
“If you don’t, please call reception and have it billed to the room.” He was aware of how clipped his words were. Like he was talking to an employee.
Which was exactly what he was doing, dammit.
Becca swallowed and nodded again.
“Good night.” He felt like an asshole. Maybe because he was exactly that. His eyes softened as he looked at her, taking in her wide eyes, swollen lips, and messed up hair. “And thank you,” he told her. “For everything. You were wonderful tonight.”
He turned and opened his bedroom door before she could say anything, gently pulling it closed behind him.
The bed was too big. And too hard. She felt more like Goldilocks than Cinderella as she twisted and turned, the sheets tangled between her legs as she tried in vain to find a comfortable position.
She’d been trying to sleep for two hours now. The alarm clock told her it was one in the morning. In a few hours she’d need to get up and drive straight to work. Unless she got some sleep now, she was going to be a wreck.
Sighing, she dropped her head back on the pillow, gazing up at the ceiling. The kiss in the elevator was playing over in her mind. The way he’d tipped her head with his demanding fingers, as though her lips were made only for him. The way he’d pressed his body against hers so she was left in no doubt exactly how turned on he was.
He’d kissed her softly at first, then harder until every line between them blurred. As she’d stroked her fingers over his warm, muscled stomach, it had seemed inevitable that they’d end up in bed together.
Yet now she was here alone.
She glanced at the clock, disappointed that only one minute had passed since her last time check. She gave a grunt of annoyance and sat up. This was stupid. When she was little and she couldn’t sleep, Aunt Gina always told her she needed to break the pattern.
“Come downstairs and have a cup of hot chocolate, then try again. I bet it works the second time around.”
And it always did. Becca doubted there was any hot chocolate in the elegant suite kitchen, but she knew for sure there was ice water. That would have to do.