Chapter 8
eight
A sleek black car pulls up to the curb. The interior is dark and cool, smelling faintly of vanilla as we climb inside. The privacy screen between us and the driver makes it feel even more intimate.
Broody settles in beside me. Even though the car is a large SUV, the backseat is compact and my legs are long, so it’s basically impossible not to touch him.
His knee brushes mine as he takes my hand in his. Lacing our fingers together, he rests our hands in his lap as he shifts, pressing his thigh more firmly against mine. The contact sends a jolt of electricity up my leg, and I suck in a sharp breath, heart hammering against my ribs.
The rest of the ride passes in a haze of tension so thick you could cut it with a knife.
Every time the car turns or stops, our bodies shift and touch—shoulders grazing, thighs pressing—all while his thumb brushes absentmindedly across my knuckles.
Each point of contact sends sparks skittering across my skin, and by the time the car pulls up in front of the hotel, I’m wound so tight I’m about ready to snap.
Paying the driver through the app, he climbs out and extends his hand. Palm warm and calloused against mine, he holds on tight as we walk through the lobby.
Clean lines and mood lighting fill the space, tall windows overlooking the river. It’s beautiful, but I’m too distracted by the man beside me to take the time to fully appreciate it.
His thumb traces small circles on the back of my hand, sending shivers up my arm as he leads us toward the bank of elevators. As we wait, he pulls me to stand in front of him, pressing his chest possessively against my back.
The doors slide open.
Slipping an arm around my waist, he splays a palm over my sternum, fingers brushing the curve of my breasts as he walks us inside, using his body as leverage.
My heart pounds as the doors slide shut, closing us in the small, empty space. Then, before I can blink, he spins me around and pins me against the wall.
“If I do something you don’t like, you’ll tell me, yeah?”
All I can do is nod.
“Words, Angel.”
Oh, fuck. He’s gonna be so much fun.
“Yeah,” I pant, rubbing my thighs together in an attempt to squash the amount of blood thumping against my clit.
His mouth crashes down. Hungry and demanding, his tongue sweeps past my lips as he palms my breast. I gasp into him, hands gripping his shoulders for balance as my knees threaten to buckle.
“Been wanting to do that all night,” he growls against my mouth, pinching a nipple.
My head spins, overwhelmed by the intensity of his touch. His other hand slides down to my hip, fingers digging in as he melds his hard body against mine. I can feel every ridge of muscle, every long, hard inch of him.
The elevator dings, signaling our floor.
Breaking the kiss, his breathing is ragged as he stares down at me with dark, hooded eyes.
Lips swollen, my body aches for more.
“This way,” he orders, voice rough as he takes my hand again, leading me down the hallway.
My legs are practically jelly as we walk, my mind replaying the feel of his mouth on mine. When we reach our destination, he fumbles with the key card, hand shaking slightly. It’s the first sign of vulnerability I’ve seen from him all night.
When he pushes open the door, I follow him inside, gasping when I see the room laid out before us.
The suite is luxurious.
Floor-to-ceiling windows overlook the river and a bank of lights beyond.
Soft lighting from strategically placed lamps cast everything in a warm glow.
To my left is a lounge area, complete with a couple of cream-colored, cushy-looking sofas with a low, square dark wooden coffee table sitting in-between.
I grin to myself, thinking of what kind of mess we could make on it.
Through the bedroom door to my right, I catch a glimpse of a massive king-size bed. Dressed with a fluffy white comforter, a row of pillows sits stacked against a leather headboard.
“I hate to sound crass, but are you like a millionaire or some shit?”
“What? No. Why do you ask?”
“Because this suite looks expensive.”
“Brex’s brother has someone that owes him big time for saving his life or some shit.”
“Brex?”
He raises an eyebrow. “My buddy from the club.”
“Oh, right.”
Brex. Hell’s bells. Even his name is hot.
“So,” Broody rumbles, snagging my attention as he steps into me. Chest rising and falling, he runs a hand through his hair. “You want a drink or—”
I move in, cutting him off as I meld my mouth to his. No talking. No thinking. I just want to feel.
Wrapping his arms tightly around my waist, he pulls me flush against him as he deepens our kiss.
I tangle my fingers in his hair and give it a tug.
The sound of his groan vibrates through me. “Bed,” he murmurs against my mouth. “Now.”
Tongues tangling, he guides me backward into the bedroom until my legs hit the edge of the mattress.
As he lays me down, I scoot back toward the middle of the bed, and he follows.
His weight wedges me between him and the mattress, lips trailing down my neck, teeth grazing my skin as his hands roam and squeeze.
“Fuck. This is all I’ve been thinking about since the moment I first laid eyes on you,” he confesses, voice raspy. “Couldn’t get you out of my head.”
“Prove it,” I murmur, reaching for the hem of his shirt. “Show me everything you’ve been thinking about doing to me.”
His eyes darken as he sits up, reaching behind him to yank his shirt over his head.
My breath catches at the sight. His naked chest is all hard planes and defined muscles with a light smattering of dark hair across his pecs. I reach for him, running my hands over his warm skin, reveling in how the ridges of his abs feel beneath my palms.
Brushing my hands away, he tugs at the hem of my T-shirt.
I shift, sitting up just enough to allow him to take it off. My bra goes next. Then my jeans and panties.
When I’m fully naked, he stills.
My heart somersaults as his feral gaze rakes over me until, finally, a hooded pair of green eyes meet mine.