Page 66 of For the Plot

Chapter 14

Reece

The car is too quiet.

The air inside the cabin feels thick, too hot from her body sitting just inches away from mine. I don’t look at her. If I do, I won’t be able to stop. She crosses her legs, and my peripheral vision catches the shift in the hem. Just a flash of thigh. Smooth. Pale. Bare.

I curl my fingers into a fist on my knee and press down. I’m unraveling.

Outside the tinted windows, Boston glows. Streetlights streak across her skin like spotlights, illuminating the curve of her jaw, the shimmer on her collarbone. I can see her reflection in the window… lips slightly parted, chest rising and falling with slow, measured breaths.

She’s pretending to be calm. She’s not. Neither am I. She shifts again. Her thigh brushes against mine.

I inhale sharply through my nose and turn my attention forward. Our driver says nothing from behind the wheel. He doesn’t flinch when Skye lets out the softest sigh, barely audible, but my cock twitches at the sound.

I glance over… Mistake.

Her head is tilted back slightly, eyes closed, lips parted like she’s seconds from saying my name in that voice—the one she used earlier when she talked about being undone, about being fucked by a man who loses control.

I shift in my seat, attempting to adjust myself. I’m painfully hard. Straining against my slacks like my body doesn’t give a fuck that we’re three feet from a stranger.

All I can think about is how tight she’d feel. How soft. How goddamn wet. And how she’ll sound when I finally sink into her.

The car turns onto the final block before the hotel. The traffic light ahead glows red.

Good. I need the delay. I need a second to remember who the hell I am. I slowly turn my head. She’s watching me now. Her eyes are wide, curious. Bold. She doesn’t blink. She doesn’t speak.

And fuck me, I want her to say it. I want her to push me over the edge with one more teasing line. I want her to give me a reason to tear into her the second we cross the threshold.

But she stays silent. So I break. I lean toward her just slightly, my voice low enough that only she can hear it.

“The second you get inside, go unlock your door,” I growl, “before I lose my fucking mind.”

She holds my gaze. Then smirks. It’s not coy, it’s confident. Like she knows exactly what she’s doing to me. Like she knows I’m a man on the brink of being consumed by fire. And she’s the goddamn match.

The car pulls to a stop at the curb. The driver opens the door, and she slides out first. I follow, nodding once at our driver and slipping him a tip.

Then we’re walking. Side by side. Into the hotel. Across the gleaming marble lobby. Toward the elevator that might as well be the point of no return. The moment we’re inside, I press thebutton for the penthouse where our rooms are located just as another couple slides in before the doors close.

She stands beside me. Close… So fucking close I can feel her heat. I stare straight ahead, breathing like I’ve just run five miles. Her perfume is lighter tonight. Subtle. Floral, maybe. I want to bury my face in the crook of her neck and inhale it like oxygen.

The elevator climbs one floor. Two.

Her shoulder brushes mine. Not an accident. Three.

I flex my hand, roll my neck, force myself to stay still. Four.

Her fingers graze my thigh. That’s it. That’s all it takes. By the time the doors open another ten floors up, I’m already on fire.

She steps out first, hips swaying, heels clicking against the floor like the start of a countdown. I follow close behind.

The hallway is quiet. Dim. Our footsteps echo in sync. She stops in front of her door, digging for her key card. Her fingers fumble slightly, just enough that I catch the tremble in her hand.

She’s not as calm as she pretends to be.Good.

She slides the card into the lock. The light flashes red and she curses softly under her breath.

“Let me,” I say, stepping in.