Page 73 of The Morally Grey Billionaires Boxset

Zara

He moves at the same time as me. Our mouths fuse.

Our teeth clash. A growl rips up his chest. The next second, he grips me under my butt and lifts me up.

I wrap my legs about his hips. There’s a ripping sound, and I stiffen for a second.

Then he pushes his pelvis forward, and the long, thick column in the crotch of his pants stabs into my core.

My pussy clenches, my clit throbs, and my nipples are so hard, I’m sure they’ll tear through my blouse and jacket.

I have too many clothes on. I throw my arms around his neck, plaster myself to him.

Mold myself to his hard planes and angles and gradients, and that very manly chest of his, which is so wide, it never fails to make me feel dainty and utterly feminine.

Which is a first. It’s not that I haven’t been attracted to other men.

No one has been macho enough, strong enough, secure enough, dominant enough to not feel intimated by my personality.

With Hunter, that has never been a problem.

He’s so masculine, so virile, so completely male.

And I don’t mean just the fact that he is six-foot-three with shoulders so broad, they never fail to make my breath flutter and my ovaries clench.

It’s his mindset, his gaze, the way he surveys the space around him with a confident manner that is downright sexy and potent and so…

so… Hot. It makes me want to climb him…and lick him…

and punch him…and slap him…and then kiss him… The way I am right now.

As if he senses the roiling emotions running through me, as if he feels the surrender from deep inside of me, as if he’s aware of the slippery slope of my thoughts, he tilts his head, opens his mouth over mine and devours me.

He nips on my lower lip, and when I moan, he thrusts his tongue over mine, draws on my breath, sucks from me, and it feels like he’s consuming me completely.

A whine slips from my lips, the sound so needy, so wanting that it turns me on even more.

My panties are soaked, and I can smell the sweetness of my arousal in the air.

As I cling to him—with my ankles locked about his waist, and my arms locked around his neck, with his cock jabbing into my pussy in a gesture so demanding, I’m tempted to rip off my panties and take him inside—I know, for sure, I’ve met my match.

A shudder grips me. My stomach seems to bottom out.

My entire body turns liquid, and he squeezes the flesh of my arse to hold me up.

My breasts are crushed into his torso, and my mouth is full of his tongue.

My head seems to have dissociated from the rest of me.

I have an out-of-body moment when it’s as if I’m looking down on the titillating image we present.

Then he releases my mouth, only to whisper kisses up my jaw and down my throat.

He brushes aside the neckline of my blouse, buries his nose in the curve of my shoulder and inhales deeply.

The action is so salacious, so much more sexually explicit than anything else he has done to me so far that my eyes roll back in my head.

My clit throbs, my core melts, and I begin to grind against the hardness at his crotch with abandon.

Oh, god, I’m going to come. I’m going to…

A ringing sound slices through the haze of sensations that grip my body. I stiffen; so does he.

What the—? I try to get my brain cells to form a coherent thought.

"Ignore it." He digs his teeth into the curve of my shoulder and my pussy clenches. Moisture pools between my legs. Heat surges out, from where he’s bitten me, to my extremities. Every part of me is hardwired to follow his command. To become his. His. His. His.

The ringing blares through the space, and I snap my eyes open. I take in the confines of the elevator car and a cold sensation clutches at my heart. I slap against his shoulder. "Let me go!"

He doesn’t move.

"Hunter, let me the hell go!" I wriggle against him, and his cock lengthens; it grows even bigger. Oh, my god. My fingers tingle to hold that part of him, my mouth waters to taste him, my clit swells, and I push my pelvis up and into the tent at his crotch, yearning for release.

The ringing starts again, and Hunter swears. Without letting go of me, he reaches over and grabs the phone from the control panel of the elevator car. "What?" he barks.

He listens to the voice at the other end and draws in a breath. "No, we’re good." He listens again. "Yes, Ms. Chopra is with me."

I stiffen. Who is that? His security personnel?

So now they know we’ve been trapped in the elevator for how long?

Five minutes? Ten? More? I struggle against him, and he leans more of his weight into me, rendering me immobile.

Asshole. Still, he hasn’t even broken a sweat, and he’s holding me up with one arm—and his cock…

umm, not quite, but you get the picture—while talking on the phone, and that is impressive.

"I’ll see you on the ground floor." He slaps the phone back into the cradle, and the elevator car begins to move.

"Hunter, let me down!"

He scowls down at me. "You’re the most annoying woman I’ve ever met."

"Ditto."

"And the most stubborn."

"Pot, meet kettle."

"And the most gorgeous."

"Same," I snap, then freeze. "You’re a jerk."

"Yep."

"Let me go, you piece of—"

He moves back, and I hit the floor of the elevator, on my arse. What the hell? I shove the hair from my face and jump to my feet. "You let me fall? How could you let me fall, you—"

"You asked me to let you go."

Anger twists my guts. I take a step toward him, and he jerks his chin in the direction of the indicator above the door.

We’re on the second floor. Shit! I smooth down my skirt—my second ripped skirt, and this one is Chanel, argh!

—then pat down my hair. I grab my Birkin from the floor and hook it over my shoulder.

To think, I had been so caught up in our mutual lust that I hadn’t realized I’d let it fall to the floor of the elevator…

That’s something. To be honest, a bomb could have gone off next to us and I wouldn’t have noticed.

That kind of distraction is epic, a once-in-a-lifetime occurrence and…

Nope, not going there. It was a kiss; just a kiss.

A mind-blowing, panty-melting, London Fashion Week kind of kiss…

It was...something significant, all right.

This is so unfair. Why am I so attracted to him?

Why is he so irresistible? And hot and sexy, not to mention charismatic, and he wants to do something for his community and his country.

Yes, I’ve listened to some of his speeches in Parliament, and observed how he doesn’t hesitate to raise tough issues with his opponents and doesn’t think twice about questioning measures he doesn’t agree with.

He’s known for taking risks, for speaking his mind, for challenging those whose outlook opposes his.

He’s seen as somewhat of a champion of the underdog—something which I find really attractive, too.

I hate to say it, but if there were a man powerful enough to hold his own against me, it’s him.

And he doesn’t even need to try. It’s both annoying and hugely seductive.

That he could just be, and I’d gravitate to him; that he could reel me in without any protests on my side, and not much of an effort on his.

It’s frustrating and oh, so erotic. Tantalizing and completely exciting. And I can’t afford to dwell on it.

I am going to put it behind me and move on.

Stay focused. Stay centered. Keep moving forward.

I draw in a deep breath, then another. When the elevator doors open, I hustle out, with Hunter on my heels.

I brush past his security detail, then increase my pace.

Of course, he keeps abreast. I reach the double doors leading out of the hospital and walk out, only for a flashbulb to go off in my face.