I cup her cheek once more, lacing my fingers around the back of her neck while tipping her chin upward, until our mouths are angled in the perfect position.
I’ve never had to beg for a kiss.
“‘Perspective is everything.’” I quote her article about first times. “And life is just a series of first times. Remember?”
Her lips angle at one side, flashing a hint of a dimple. “You can’t use my lines on me.”
I sweep a strand of hair from her temple. “The first time I saw you, you were wearing this tight little sweaterdress. Navy blue. And you had this confident sway in your hips when you walked. You’d give everyone this little finger wave, eliciting a smile every time you walked by anyone.”
“I forgot all about that dress,” she says, her voice distant.
“Well, I for one could never.” I tease my mouth against hers, noting the way her body doesn’t brace for impact as I pull her into my arms. “I’ve waited five years for this moment. I’ll wait five more if I have to. Fair warning, though: I’m terribly impatient and awfully persuasive.”
“Tell me something I don’t know.”
I’m fully prepared to be a perfect gentleman tonight despite the uncomfortable bulge that’s been growing in my pants for the past hour and the solid case of blue balls I’ll be dealing with tonight—when Elle once again does the unexpected . . . and kisses me first.
Her lips melt against mine, silken and warm. Pillow soft and sugar sweet. I circle her waist with my hands, gripping her soft flesh as I hold her tighter against me. Parting her lips with my tongue, I taste her cinnamon mouth and the sharp tang of gin.
It’s only when we come up for air that I realize I’ve backed her against a bookshelf. Wild eyed and in a daze, she gives me a breathless stare, as if she’s seeing me for the first time all over again. But I’ve seen this moment before—I’ve lived it a hundred times in my head. Only this is a million times better. To feel her, to taste her, to breathe her in.
Burying my mouth against the bend of her neck, I bite a kiss into her creamy skin before returning to silence the moan on her swollen lips. Pressed against me, she writhes at my touch before gathering a fistful of my hair.
Without a second thought, I gather her into my arms. Wrapping her legs around my hips, I carry her to the elevator. Punching the call button with a clenched fist, I can’t get her to my room fast enough.
Wherever this leads, whatever happens tonight, the last thing I want is for Scarlett to walk in. Not only that, but Elle deserves more than a quick ravaging in my study, where countless women before her have fallen to their knees to suck my cock without an ounce of self-respect.
The elevator deposits us on my suite floor, and we stumble through the darkened hallway, mouths crashing and hands exploring.
“You have no idea how badly I want you, Elle,” I growl into her ear as I pull her into my room and shut the door. “How badly I’ve wanted you.”
A break in the curtain on the far wall paints her body in just enough light to highlight her impeccable curves. Pulling her into my arms, I sample her mouth once more before tugging her shirt over her head and tossing it into the black void behind me.
A shiver runs through her, and I trace a trail of gooseflesh along her arm.
Gliding a satin bra strap down her left shoulder, I press another kiss against her hot flesh before unhooking the clasp. She lets it fall to the floor before reaching for my fly and sliding her hand inside my boxers. Pumping my length, she presses her naked torso against me, her wanton mouth silently begging to be claimed.
“You’re sure this is what you want?” I need to hear her say it. If she’s stroking my cock, she might as well stroke my ego too. There’s nothing hotter than knowing the sexiest woman I’ve ever known wants me deep inside of her.
Besides, I’ve never heard her so quiet before.
A million thoughts must be running through that pretty little head of hers.
Slipping her fingers through my hair, she bites her lip and nods.
This woman wants me.
She doesn’t want my money. She has no interest in my power. She doesn’t care about the doors I could open for her, the places I could fly her, or the luxuries I could gift her.
She doesn’t want a damn thing.
Just me.
“Yes,” she says. “You’ve got me so worked up; I couldn’t walk out of here even if I tried.”
She pumps me faster, rising on her toes to steal another kiss.
Guiding her to the center of my bed, I lay her down before tugging her leggings and panties down her thighs. Undressing, I examine her in the sliver of moonlight that trickles across my bed.