Chapter 21
Twenty-One
‘Shall we make a break for it?’ Mateo grins, pressing his forehead against mine.
Biting my lip, I nod and he bends down to pick up his jacket, now too wet to be of any use.
He takes my hand in his, interlocking our fingers, and we launch ourselves out into the downpour, hurrying down the road in the direction of his hotel, which I know isn’t far.
I squeal with laughter through the hammering rain, grateful for Mateo snaking his arm around my waist to make sure I don’t slip in my heels.
By the time we burst into the lobby of the Ritz Paris, my hair is dripping wet and my dress sodden.
Mateo runs a hand through his hair, droplets beading down his face, his shirt clinging to his solid torso.
His grin is making my heart flip. I must look a state, my make-up probably smeared all over my face.
Mateo looks hotter than I’ve ever seen him, his skin glistening with raindrops, his hair damp, messy and tousled, his eyes flashing at me.
When he leads me towards the elevator with purpose, I notice everyone glance up and watch us with intrigue, the two of us soaked through and giggling like we’ve done something that’s going to get us in trouble as we cross the marble floor.
The doors ping open and he presses a hand on the small of my back to guide me inside the empty elevator before he steps in behind me, presses the number for his floor, and spins me round to face him, steadying me with one hand gripping my hip, the other cupping the side of my head.
Before the doors have closed again and I have time to think, he’s dragged my mouth to his.
I gasp, his lips devouring me hungrily, my back arching into him as his fingers tangle in my hair and his tongue glides against mine.
This kiss is so urgent, so demanding, it’s making me light-headed and reckless.
I don’t notice when the elevator doors shut; I don’t care who’s seen us before they do.
I’m lost in my hunger for him, all of him, every fucking inch of him, digging my nails into the muscles of his back and dragging them down in slow, torturous motion as he moans into my mouth in response, biting fervently at my bottom lip.
As the elevator shifts into motion, I back against the wall, hauling him with me, needing his body pressed against mine.
His hands fall to the back of my thighs and he hoists me up with ease, my dress sliding up around my waist as my legs squeeze his hips, my ankles locking behind his back.
As he buries his head in my neck, kissing and licking my wet skin, I inhale sharply at the feel of his hardened erection pressed in between my legs.
Fuck. He’s huge. I can tell he’s huge. The idea of him inside me sends jolts of electricity surging through me, dampening the fabric of my underwear.
I want him now. I need him now. I grind against him and he groans, jerking his head back to look at me, his eyes flaring with heat.
‘Ash,’ he says through gritted teeth. ‘You don’t know what you’re doing to me.’
My hand slides to the bulge in his trousers. ‘I think I have an idea.’
He punishes my brazenness by lowering me to my feet and stepping back, leaving me cold and gasping for him. The elevator doors slide open. Catching his breath, his eyes drift down my body as I quickly wriggle my skirt back down my thighs.
‘Fucking hell,’ he mutters, the muscle in his jaw twitching. ‘You’re so beautiful, Ash.’
For a moment, I’m dumbfounded, struck by the sincerity of the compliment. The doors threaten to close again, but he presses the button to open them and reaches for my hand, guiding me down the corridor towards his room in a daze. Unlocking the door, he ushers me inside and turns on the light.
‘Whoa,’ I say, taking in the vast, elegant suite with its gold-gilded walls, marble fireplace, private balcony and the biggest bed I’ve ever seen. ‘This is—’
He doesn’t let me finish my sentence and, to be honest, I’m okay with it.
Stepping in front of me, his hands grab my hips and he captures my gasp of surprise with his mouth, kissing me like this is the first time he’s been allowed to, the pent-up frustration feeding into his lips and tongue that are exploring mine hungrily.
My lips are going to be bruised tomorrow, but I don’t care, I want more, moaning with desire so he’s left in no doubt of it.
My back against the door, my hands pull at his shirt, yanking it free from his trousers and I start fumbling with his buttons until he pulls back from me, forcing me to stop.
For a moment, he studies me intently, his dark eyes roaming from my face down my neck to my collarbone, from one strap of my dress to the other. He slowly slides a hand round my back to the top of my dress, his fingers finding the zip. A small smile appears on his lips.
‘May I?’ he asks, pinching it.
‘You’d fucking better.’
His smile widening, he pulls the zip down, before easing the straps down my arms with the lightest trail of his fingertips, my skin burning beneath his touch.
The dress falls to the ground in a crumpled heap around my heels.
His eyes glaze as he looks at me in my sheer black lace strapless bra and matching thong.
He swallows and his lips part as my chest rises and falls with each shaky breath, my peaked nipples pushing at the material of the bra, begging for him.
His gaze fixed on me, he lifts his chin and inhales deeply.
‘What?’ I ask, glancing down at my underwear to check there’s not something wrong.
‘I’m taking a moment,’ he says, his voice strained. ‘I’m wondering how the hell I’m going to last more than a couple of seconds with you looking like,’ he gestures at me, ‘this.’
Tucking my hair behind my ear, I smile bashfully.
‘You’re perfect,’ he adds.
His warm hands come to my waist, soft and gentle now, and he dips his head to kiss me slowly, his lips brushing against mine tentatively like they were dealing with something precious, something that might be easily broken.
My heart thrums at this new variety of kiss in Mateo’s arsenal, melting into him, resting my palms against the damp material of his shirt plastered to his chest. He breaks the kiss for a moment, looking at me with soft, hopeful eyes.
‘I want you so fucking badly. It would never be meaningless,’ he says, his voice thick and hoarse. ‘Fuck, Ash, how could you not know how badly I want you over and over and over again?’
I crack first, drawing his lips to mine and kissing him deeply as his hands roam up and down the skin at my waist, covering me in goosebumps.
Sliding my tongue against his, I groan into his mouth and he responds by kissing me harder, flutters erupting in my stomach at the sensation of his hard length pressing against my hip.
But when I go to undo his belt, he grabs my wrists with both hands, lifting my arms above my head.
‘You first,’ he says in a low voice.
Pinning my wrists against the back of the door above me with one hand, the other drops to my stomach.
I draw a sharp breath, as his fingers trace teasingly along the waistband of my thong, heat building and aching between my legs.
A desperate whimper emits from my throat, my body arching towards him as it hums with need.
‘Tell me I can touch you,’ he says, his throat working as though somehow nervous about whether he’s done enough to earn my permission. ‘Let me do to you what I’ve been thinking about for weeks. What I haven’t stopped thinking about.’
‘Touch me,’ I beg him, a low, tortured sound rumbling in his chest. ‘Please.’
He slips his hand beneath my thong, drawing a gasp from me as his fingers stroke over my clit, my body jolting in response. I whimper with something like relief and ecstasy as they slide lower and push inside me.
‘You’re so wet for me,’ he murmurs, his eyes blazing. ‘So fucking perfect.’
Dragging his fingers back and sinking them inside me again, he captures my groan with his mouth, his tongue caressing mine as pressure builds and tightens between my legs.
‘Do you know how long you’ve made me suffer?’ he says, his jaw tense as he watches me. ‘How restrained I’ve had to be around you every fucking day?’
Holy fuck, I think I’m about to combust.
The way his fingers are making my muscles tighten and ache, how he’s taken control by not letting me touch him, how he kisses me like he’s worshipping me.
I’ve never felt so fucking powerful, like this man is completely at my mercy even though I’m the one pinned up against the wall.
All of it combined is making my head spiral and my orgasm build impossibly fast. He moves his thumb to my clit, rubbing with the perfect amount of pressure.
‘Oh my God,’ I breathe, bucking into his hand.
He lets out a groan at my reaction, the hand holding my wrists releasing them to drop to my waist and hold me firmly in place, while mine rake roughly through his hair, down his neck and cling to his shoulders for dear life.
His eyes flare as I bite back a moan, desperately trying not to fall too fast, wanting this fluttering, building, rippling sensation to last forever.
‘Come for me, baby; don’t you dare hold back,’ he growls, increasing the speed and pressure, reading me like a fucking book.