Page 59

Hattie huffed and pushed at my chest, trying to move past me.

“You really have to stop pretending we’re not divorced. I need to get back—”

Before she could pull away, I caught her wrist and turned her hand over. Stroking my thumb in her palm, with deep, slow pressure. It didn’t take much effort to pull her close against my chest.

I trailed my knuckles down her arm, curved my palm around the dip of her waist. Then I slid my palm a few inches lower to squeeze her hip. I leaned in, brushing my lips against her ear as I spoke.

“And you have to stop pretending that you’re not begging me to fuck you every time you look at me with those pretty eyes, sweetheart.”

Hattie’s breath hitched.

With less than five minutes to work with, I couldn’t do much. But I could give her a taste.

Backing her against the wall, I grabbed her skirt and yanked it up around her hips.

“Neil,” she whispered urgently, twisting her fingers into my cut. “This is a public stairwell. Anyone could walk in on us.”

“Let them,” I growled into the curve of her neck.

I cupped her pussy through the black lace of her panties, grinding the heel of my palm against her clit. Hattie sucked in a shaky gasp. I scraped my teeth over her skin, then smoothed the flat of my tongue over the red welt I’d left behind.

“Oh, God,” Hattie whimpered, pushing deeper into my palm, rolling her hips. “Officer Shepard will start wondering where I went—”

I peeled her panties to the side, teasing my fingers along her slit. With my free hand, I bracketed her throat ever-so-lightly, with no pressure. Just enough to get her attention, to make her eyes lock with mine.

“The next time some prick lays a finger on you,” I said, low and hoarse. “You call me. Doesn’t matter where you are in the world. Doesn’t matter if you’ve been married to an uptight, rich dickwad for years. You. Call. Me. Is that clear?”

Hattie took a breath to answer, thighs trembling. I thumbed at her clit, making her flinch with a needy whine. Then I slipped two fingers inside her.

“It’s only been two days since we last fucked, baby,” I murmured with satisfaction as Hattie’s eyes rolled back in her head. “And your pussy is sucking my fingers deep like she’s starving to death, poor thing.”

A door slammed from somewhere in the stairwell above us. Hattie’s walls clenched around my fingers. She gripped my wrist, fingernails clawing into my skin.

I crowded closer, bracing one elbow on the wall, next to her head. Footsteps echoed on the stairs. But Hattie didn’t pull away. Neither did I.

She shifted, biting the inside of her cheek. I cupped the back of her neck and tucked her face into my chest to muffle her.

My fingers sank further into her pussy, knuckles-deep. I curled and twisted and stroked her fluttering walls as she panted and squirmed against me.

Another door opened and closed. The footsteps were gone. Silence returned to the stairwell again.

As soon as we were alone, I tilted Hattie’s head back to kiss her. Swallowing her moans as I hammered against her G-spot.

Her phone went off, ringing in her purse. Probably Shepard, trying to track her down. We had definitely blown past our allotted five minutes.

Hattie ignored it anyway, frantically rolling her hips, so close to her orgasm, throwing caution to the wind for her pleasure. My cock was hard as steel, seeing her desperate like this. I could have sworn the zipper of my fly was imprinted on my skin.

Fuck, I had to be inside her. I needed to feel her scorching heat wrapped around my cock. I needed to watch her taking every inch and fall apart for me.

The phone stopped ringing for about thirty seconds. Then it started up again.

We were out of time.

I pulled back, leaving Hattie empty. Her cream coated my fingers, dripping down into my palm.

“Neil,” she rasped in a voice tight with sexual frustration. “You can’t just—”

I dropped to my knees in front of her. My woman. My queen. Palming her thighs, I guided her close and kissed her sensitive, throbbing clit.