The waitress sets the check on the table, shaking me from my thoughts. I reach for it, but Pierce grabs it before I get a chance, his warm fingers brushing mine. “My treat.”
“You didn’t even eat.”
He winks. “But I did.”
He pays, and we make our way to the door. This time, as we exit the building, he wraps his jacket around my shoulders, running his hands over the wool sleeves. “You have goose bumps.”
“December isn’t the best month to be indulging in frozen hot chocolate.”
“You have a point there.”
Our car pulls up to the curb, and Pierce quickly opens the door for me to climb in. He follows close behind, forcing me to scoot to the other side. “Four Seasons,” he instructs the driver.
The second the car starts down the road, I know this trip will be different than the others. No endless daydreaming. No peaceful quietness. Pierce’s hand comes up, gently caressing my cheeks, eyes searing into mine under the streetlights that flood through the window.
“It’s been a long time since I felt this comfortable around a woman,” he remarks, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear.
“I have a hard time believing that. You make being with you so easy.” It’s true. Since the initial butterflies wore off tonight, I’ve had a good time. He takes my mind off things it shouldn’t be dwelling on.
He closes the remaining space between us. “Can I kiss you again?”
If he’d asked me the first time, I would’ve had to think about it more. Now, the pendulum swings but only for a second. The line has been crossed—any anti-fraternization policy that Stanley Development defied.
“You don’t have to ask,” I answer, staring at his lips. He kisses me—one long, lingering kiss that would make the most ordinary of places feel romantic. His lips are warm against mine. The more he takes, the more I want to give . . . the more I want to want him.
As he pulls away, he looks down at me with hooded eyes. I crave more . . . so much more. I want to take what he offers, forget about all of my other missteps. Nuzzling the crook of his neck, I inhale the sexy scent that’s tormented me all night. I could get lost in it, sleeping for hours just like this.
He wraps one arm around my shoulders, pulling me tightly against his body. His other hand grips my knee, and ever so subtly slips between my thighs. My muscles go rigid at first, but then I relax into him.
His hand slides higher, and on instinct, I look into the rearview mirror. The driver is only feet away. He probably sees everything. Hears every sound we make.
“He can’t see this,” Pierce whispers above my ear.
I tense, trying to find it within myself to let him in, to let adrenaline control me for once. His long fingers curl between my thighs, keeping them from traveling any higher. “Do you want me to stop?”
Every decision has a consequence, big or small. Kissing him earlier was one thing, but this is different.
The answer becomes clear when I look up, catching the lust in his eyes. Desire must be contagious because I hunger for him, for his lips, his hands.
“Don’t stop,” I answer. I close my eyes as his hand slips up higher, his fingers a light brush against my skin.
And as he kisses me, he works his way up to the edge of my panties. His lips are more urgent, pressing harder, almost punishing. “Do you know how long I’ve wanted to do this?”
I moan into his mouth, tugging his hair between my fingers.
He runs his fingers against the tingling spot between my legs. I gasp, ready for whatever he wants to give. “You’re going to undo me if you keep making sounds like that.”
I part my lips to apologize, but he uses the opportunity to press his tongue into my mouth. His chest touches mine, caging me against the seat. I’m completely under his spell, captivated by every stroke of my skin. He lowers my defenses. And, he makes me forget . . . that’s the best part. When I’m with him, I’m just . . . with him.
Our tongues caress.
Our bodies collide.
The spark is there, igniting my hands on him, his on me.
The car comes to a stop. Pierce groans, reluctantly breaking away. I miss his warmth. “We’re here,” the driver announces.
I rub my fingertip around my mouth, checking my lipstick. Pierce helps the cause, smoothing down my skirt and tucking a strand of hair behind my ear.
“Where’s the traffic when you need it?” he grumbles under his breath.
The driver startles us by opening the door. Pierce begrudgingly he climbs out, holding his hand out to me. The cool air feels good against my flushed skin as I step onto the sidewalk, but the warm tingle between my legs doesn’t go unnoticed. The thought of asking to take a few more laps around the block crosses my mind. That thought rings louder when I notice the impressive bulge that tugs at his zipper. I imagine what he’d be like in bed—a true gentleman with immeasurable confidence. I imagine his lips on every inch of my body . . . the pleasure he’d give me.
Those thoughts melt away as he tucks me under his arm, quickly ushering us through the lobby to the elevators. We wait quietly for the doors to open, his arm never leaving me.
When it finally dings, we step inside, alone again. His lips descend on mine—hungry, wanting. My back is pushed against the wall, his hips grinding against mine. I wish this were the movies . . . that the elevator would suddenly stop so we could finish what we started.
We reach our floor far too soon. Our hands stop their exploration when the door opens, but our bodies remain glued together, neither of us wanting to make the first move out of the elevator.
“Come to my room,” he pants, eyes reading mine.
I hesitate, my chest heaving against his. He leans in, kissing me again. It’s a plea—one I’m having a hard time denying with his warm body against mine. Blake’s needing eyes flash through my mind like a burst of lightning, but I let the vision fade. Pierce is here, not pushing me away. No games. He even cared enough to take me out, which is something Blake never did.
I wrap my arms around his neck, washing away any doubts. He practically carries me to his door, only letting go to take out his key card.
He sets me down, carefully slipping the jacket from my shoulders. The slow caress of his fingers against my skin makes the simple move seductive. I’m ready to feel his hands on me . . . everywhere.
He leaves me standing alone while he loosens his tie from around his neck and tosses it on the dresser. His eyes roam over my body as he kicks off his shoes. His stare holds me, and even though I’m fully clothed, I feel naked. To escape it, I build a wall, crossing my arms over my chest.
“Arms down,” he commands.
I shift on my feet, searching for the confidence I’m not sure I’ve ever had. Especially with his dark, piercing eyes on me.
He strides toward me. I take it as a warning, letting my arms fall to my side.
Maybe I’m here for all the wrong reasons—too much wine, a heightened need to feel wanted. I couldn’t have picked a better man to rebound with. Not that I can really call it that; I’m rebounding from my rebound. I don’t know a whole lot about Pierce, but I trust him not to hurt me, not to use me for his own selfish needs and discard me like I’m nothing. I don’t want to feel that way again.
I want what every woman wants . . . to feel wanted.
Pierce slides his fingers along my collarbone then between my covered breasts. He moves slowly, calculating my reaction to every touch. He’s an expert at everything he does.
“Are you sure? Because if you’re not, I need to know now,” he whispers against my ear. I had a lot to drink, but I’m present in the moment. I want him, to know what he can do to me.
I answer without words, running my hand along his hard length. He groans, sliding his hands around my back to work my zipper down. The dress slips with his fingers, leaving me standing in nothing but green satin bra and panties.
He steps back to get a better look. “You’re stunning. Absolutely stunning.”