“God.” Her breath was damp and warm where it brushed just under his ear. “It’s been so long since I’ve felt like this. I can’t believe how good your hands feel on me.” Her nose brushed his lobe, and her lips feathered against his skin like the brush of butterfly wings.
He’d never been so turned on by so little in his life. With a groan, Luke turned his own face into the curve of her neck and muttered against the fragrant hollow, “Come upstairs with me. Now.” When she tensed, he added, “Don’t think. Don’t say no. Just come.”
He didn’t have pretty words for her. He wasn’t a flowers and poetry kind of guy. So he left it at that and prayed to God she wouldn’t turn him down, because he’d never wanted a woman more in his whole damn life than he wanted this one.
She was motionless in his arms for a moment; then, with a nod he could barely discern, she whispered, “Yes.”
It surprised him how hard he found it to walk from the lounge instead of run. His hand clasped hers so tightly he worried he might be hurting her, but even as he told himself to ease his grip, he couldn’t. There was a fire in his blood, a primal beat of need that refused to be watered down or diluted. It was urging him to take—take it all and take it now.
The elevators required a key card in order to open, and hers was out and at the ready when they reached them. As soon as the doors closed, she was on him. He would have expected her to be demure. The type to say ‘I don’t ever do this kind of thing’ or the ‘I can’t believe I’m doing this’ or another cliché along those lines. Something to convince him or herself that she wasn’t easy. It would have been unnecessary, and he would have felt compelled to reassure her. He hated that step. He didn’t need her disclaimer that she was a good person; if he didn’t believe she was, he wouldn’t be taking her upstairs. So, it was like gasoline on the fire that she was skipping the unnecessary declaration. That she was confident enough in who she was and what she wanted that she didn’t need platitudes was a turn-on of Olympic proportions.
“Christ Jesus,” he muttered as he felt every delicious inch of her against him. Then her mouth opened with decadent heat on his neck, and his knees almost gave out when her tongue licked a trail of fire from his ear to his collarbone. Luke fisted one hand in her hair, and with the other, he grabbed onto her fabulous ass. Even as he pulled her body closer with one hand, he tugged her head back with the other and fastened his lips to hers in a kiss meant to empty her mind of all but him… them… this moment.
When her knees buckled, he turned them until he had her flush against the wall. Her kiss was as hungry as his, her tongue delving into his mouth as her nails scraped little trails of fire along his scalp. He couldn’t get close enough, the clothes between them an unacceptable barrier. He groaned when he felt her leg slide up his and gripped her behind the knee to bring that limb higher so he could fit himself more fully against her. The need to consume was demolishing his higher thinking, and things like manners and proprieties were beyond him.
Andie was right there with him, that leg staying where he put it on his hip. He slid his hand along the soft column of her thigh, over the lush curve of her ass, and then with firm pressure, he followed the crease between her cheeks to the satin-covered center of her.
The doors slid open. “Christ,” he cursed again, because he was shocked at the realization he’d been about to take her right there in the elevator. What baffled him even more was that he wasn’t the least bit embarrassed or sorry about it. In fact, he was more than a little ticked, because they now had to wait until they got to her room.
Andie’s hands shook so badly she could hardly get the key card in the slot. It didn’t help that the sexiest man she’d ever laid eyes on was currently hard as steel and pressed against her ass so tightly she felt every glorious inch