Page 4

Or eight seconds.

I have no idea how much time has passed because the moment his mouth touched mine, time ceased to exist.

The elevator dings to alert us of our arrival, and even though I know this means I’m one step closer to ripping the shirt off of this virtual stranger, it also means I have to stop kissing him.

And now that I’ve had a taste of his mouth, a single second without it feels like a million years of suffering.

His fingers intertwine with mine, and he leads me out of the elevator. I pull him back, needing a second to gather myself because when he did that one thing with his tongue and his teeth, my legs turned into Jell-O and they’re having a hard time getting their act back together.

He stops and turns to me, a small smile playing at the corner of his mouth.

“I know,” he says. “But the faster we get to my room, the faster we can resume.”

I gasp.

“You’re a witch!” I do happen to have a nasty habit of talking to myself, but I know for a fact that I didn’t let any of my inside thoughts out just now. “How’d you know what I was thinking?”

His deep chuckle rolls over my skin and down my spine until it hits me square between my thighs. Dear god. Can something about this man not be hot???

“I think you mean a warlock.” He winks. “But unfortunately, no. It was less magic, more wishful hoping that you’re feeling just as ready as I am.”

Oh.

Wow.

I bite my bottom lip, trying—and failing—to prevent my giddy smile from taking over my entire face. I’m too old to be smitten, right? At my age I should be immune to pretty words and great kisses. Right?

Wrong.

I don’t know much about Luke Miller, but I do know all that matters, like:

He knows how to order a drink.

He looks great in a suit.

He’s an expert with his tongue.

Clearly, number three is what I find most encouraging. And why, even though I usually like to take control in situations like this, I’m ready to hand over the reins and be absolute putty in his strong, capable hands.

I follow behind him as we run down to his room like two schoolkids who’ve never been in a hotel before.

Our laughter echoes off the eclectically decorated walls.

The ornate frames shake as our heavy footsteps make quick work of the much-too-long hallway.

By the time we reach his room, my chest is heaving, and while I’m well aware I need to up my cardio routine, I know it’s not because of my less-than-stellar fitness level.

He grabs the key out of his back pocket without letting go of my hand, and before I can even blink, we’re inside of his room and my back is pressed against the door.

“That was impressive,” I gasp against his mouth. “What else can you do?”

“What can I do?” His eyes darken to emeralds as they travel down my body. When his gaze returns to mine, I have to bite my lip to fight back a moan at the determined, sexy-as-hell look on his face. “I think it’s better that I show you.”

“All action and no talk?” A rare breed, indeed. “What a pleasant surprise.”

“I’m full of surprises.” He leans in, and the heat of his breath against the shell of my ear causes shivers to explode all over my body.

And then, as if he can sense my losing battle to keep hold of my final strands of self-control, he pushes his groin against me, the massive bulge straining so violently against the fabric that I can’t help but think it must be painful. “But I’m even more full of action.”

I’d like to say that I react to this like a lady. That I pull inspiration from the heroines in the historical romances I love so much. That my lips part delicately and I bat my lashes at him, quiet and reserved in my need for him.

But that’d be a lie.

I go absolutely feral.

“Then what are you waiting for?” I wrap my hands around the back of his neck, pulling his face to mine and nipping at his bottom lip.

In normal circumstances, I might be a teeny bit embarrassed by how forward I’m being, but luckily for me, I’m too consumed by the overwhelming lust and desire clawing at my insides. “Prove it already.”

His dark eyes sparkle, and before I know what’s happening, my shirt is across the room, my bra is on the floor, and I’m on his bed with my hands pinned above my head.

“Jesus.” His voice is thick and raspy. I squirm beneath him. “You’re like Christmas fucking morning. The best-wrapped present under the tree, and all I want to do is rip off the wrapping and play with you for hours.”

Hours?

“I could handle hours.” Underneath him? I think I could handle anything. Except waiting another freaking minute. I understand the appeal of suspense, but this is getting ridiculous. “But if you don’t hurry up and take off your pants, I think I might self-destruct.”

“Oh no.” He chuckles and the vibrations from it are almost enough to set me off. “I can’t have that.”

And thankfully, the seriousness of my horniness sets in and he finally—FINALLY—gets naked.

I lean up onto my elbows to take in the view in front of me. I knew from the way his suit clung to certain parts of his body and the way he felt pressed against me that he wasn’t going to be hard to look at, but nothing could’ve prepared me for this. The man is huge…

In all places.

Like most people, I often ponder what it would be like to be Taylor Swift.

What her life must be like to be so inspired that you can write bop after bop after bop.

But laying topless on this bed, staring at a man with my lipstick smeared across his face, his hair mussed from my hands?

With those green eyes focused on me? I feel the sudden urge to pull out a pen and paper to write sonnets about rolling hills of green and eyes of jade.

I want to memorialize this moment. I want to wax poetic about the strength of his thighs and the safety found in his arms. Lying beneath his gaze, I finally understand what it really means to be inspired.

“Stop looking at me like that.” He kneels on the edge of the bed and his fingertips graze my stomach before unbuttoning the Abercrombie jeans social media convinced me I needed.

“Like what?” My voice quivers and breaks as I watch him slowly slide down my zipper.

“Like you’re ready to throw everything else away”—he keeps his eyes locked on mine as he glides my jeans down my legs and tosses them next to his suit—“and stay in here with me forever.”

Holy crap.

“This is just one night.” I tell him the god’s honest truth.

I have time for a lot of things in my life…

like work, volunteering, work, and in my spare time, more work…

but I don’t have the space or time for another person.

Definitely not a man who can turn me to jelly and erase the outside world with a single look.

“One night?” he repeats, disbelief clear in his voice. “We’ll have to see about that.”

I go to challenge him, to let him know in no uncertain terms that this will never go beyond the hotel lobby. But before I get the chance, my underwear is gone and Luke’s mouth is between my legs.

“Oh my god!” My mouth falls open and silent moans steal my breath away.

My hands latch on to the back of his head without thought or permission, and my hips arch off of the bed.

I can’t tell what’s up and what’s down or if I’m trying to hold him to me or push him away.

All I know is that I’ve never, in my life, felt like this before.

As if every single nerve ending in my body has been activated, and they are being lit on fire one…

by…one. Until every inch of my body is burning, ready to explode.

“That’s it,” he growls against me, and I feel it in my toes. “Let go, baby. Give it to me.”

“Luke.” His name is a prayer…a litany in the small hotel room. One-night stands aren’t supposed to feel like this. Exciting? Yes. Maybe even a little dirty. But this feels like my body is an idol and he is living to worship. “Please. More.”

I don’t know what I’m asking for more of; this already feels like too much.

But Luke gives me what I don’t even know I need.

He adds in a finger, curling it and working me from the inside as his tongue and teeth move at an unrelenting pace.

Heat and yearning begin to meld together, pressure building at the base of my stomach.

It’s too big, like a hurricane preparing to make landfall. Destruction levels unknown.

I try to pull away, but his free hand tightens like a vise on my hip and holds me in place.

“Oh no, Emerson,” he says. “You’re not running from this.”

“It’s too much,” I gasp, so out of breath it sounds like I might pass out.

“Wrong.” His mouth leaves my center just enough to look up at me from between my thighs and says, “It’s never enough.”

Then without skipping a beat, his mouth lands directly on the mark. He alternates between his tongue and teeth, from fast to slow. He builds me up and takes me down, doing it with brutal accuracy until my body is trembling and my skin is glistening with sweat.

“Please.” I’m begging at this point and not even a little bit ashamed. My body has never been this primed for anything in my life, and I honestly think that if I don’t come soon, I might die.

“Are you going to give it all to me?” He sounds more alpha than I ever thought the mild-mannered man in the suit could, and I hate how much I like it.

“I’ll give you everything.” My secondhand couch. My plant collection. My firstborn that I don’t even plan on having. “Just please don’t stop.”

And because he’s the best man on the planet, he doesn’t.

“As you wish.” There’s a smile in his voice, and I’m sure if I could pry my eyes open to see it, it’d be the most glorious sight in the world. But I can’t because he doesn’t hesitate to deliver on his promise.