Chapter 32
Catalina told her friends she was heading out, and there I was, hiding like an eejit behind the curtains. The boys thought I’d come to celebrate the win with them. They caught on quick when I told them I wasn’t there to party, I was there for her.
A few minutes later, we were slipping out of the club together, hand in hand.
I didn’t plan this. When Thiago texted saying they were coming here and casually mentioned she’d be with them, I didn’t think twice.
I didn’t plan on leaving with her either, but the second she said yes, the decision felt made long before either of us opened our mouths.
And now? Christ. I don’t know that I was prepared for how much I’d want this. Want her.
Smith steps out of the car as we approach. Ever the professional.
“Miss Catalina,” he greets, opening the door with a nod.
“Hi, Smith,” she says, voice soft, cheeks turning the sweetest shade of pink. She slips into the back seat, and I walk around to join her.
The second I sit, she melts into me, like her body was built to fit against mine. Her leg hooks around mine, her cheek finds my chest, and I wrap an arm around her. My hand lands on warm, bare skin. Smooth, soft, dangerous. I drag my thumb gently across her spine, and she shivers. I nearly do too.
I should have thought this through. When I asked Smith to drive today, I didn’t consider what it would feel like to be in the backseat with her like this, wanting privacy desperately and not having any.
“Where to, boss?” Smith asks, glancing at me in the rearview.
“Home,” I say. No hesitation. No question. My voice steadier than I feel.
He nods and pulls away from the curb.
I look down at her, and she lifts her chin, eyes locking with mine. One heartbeat. Two.
Our mouths meet before I have time to think, before either of us remember there’s someone else in the car.
What starts soft, explodes fast. Her fingers curl in my shirt, my hand splays across the small of her back, pulling her closer.
She tastes of tequila, salt, and something I didn’t know I’d been starving for.
I trace her waist with my palm, slow but not nearly slow enough for the state I’m in. She lets out a quiet moan against my lips—small, but it destroys me. If we were alone, this car wouldn’t make it out of the parking lot.
I force myself to break the kiss, forehead resting against hers.
“I need to behave,” I whisper, though I sound like a man losing the battle.
She smiles against my mouth, soft but wicked. She knows exactly what she’s doing to me, and she wants it just as much.
I’m a goner.
Christ, how am I supposed to sit here and pretend this woman isn’t about to change everything—my night, my plans, my entire damn life—in just a few minutes?
The second the elevator doors close, we collide.
Hands, breath, heat. A rush of limbs and mouths and pent-up hunger. She drags me down into her kiss, fingers slipping beneath my shirt, nails grazing skin, and it steals every ounce of solid ground from beneath me.
It’s chaos.
It’s desperation.
It’s need—raw and absolute.
Thirty-six years on this earth and I’ve never felt anything like this. Never wanted anyone the way I want her. I don’t just crave her, I depend on her. Like breath, gravity, and reality itself wouldn’t exist without her pressed against me.
When the elevator dings, she’s already tugging me down the hall. My pulse rages. My body is fire and instinct. We stumble inside the flat the second I unlock it, and before the door even clicks shut, she spins and shoves me back against it, eyes fever-bright with want.
“I need you naked, right now,” she says, and Christ, if she asked me to step off a cliff with her, I’d do it smiling.
She’s breathless, wild, and impossibly beautiful. Her metallic top catches light like she’s made of starlight and heat, and I’m a man undone.
I rip my shirt over my head and throw it aside. Her gaze drops, slow and reverent, teeth catching her bottom lip like she’s about to feast.
“Lass—”
“Nope,” she says, wicked and sweet and lethal to my sanity. She pops the p, and I swear my knees nearly give.
She steps in, fingertips hooking my waistband. “There’s something I’ve been very curious about.”
“Aye?” My voice is a cracked prayer.
“I’ve been wondering …” she murmurs, undoing the button on my jeans, “ever since last night, when I felt you right against my center …” Her eyes flash up to mine, mischief and hunger burning there. “I’ve been wondering what it looks like standing up.”
My breath punches out of me in a sound that barely qualifies as human.
She drags the zipper down. Her palms bracket my hips, slow, claiming, confident. Then she lifts her eyes to mine and whispers, “May I?”
I nod—frantic, helpless, already drowning in her.
She lowers my trousers, measured and merciless, milking every second of power she holds, exposing me.
She stays kneeling, still dressed, temptation carved from moonlight and hunger. Her smile is soft and sinful and mine.
Before I can believe I get to live this life, she moves closer and encircles my shaft with her warm hands.
She swirls her tongue around my engorged head, and I cannot help the growl that escapes my lips.
Leaning against my front door, I close my eyes and cradle her head softly, unable to stop myself from sliding my hard cock deeper into her throat.
She takes every inch, setting a slow, steady pace, sucking and licking me, and I’m gone, undone, a man built to fall apart for her.
She works me with her mouth, slow and devastating, until pressure coils low and hot.
“Bloody hell, kitten,” I choke out, my hand tightening in her hair. “You’re going to make me come.”
She hums her approval, and I nearly lose every scrap of control I’ve ever had.
I can’t. Not yet. Not like this.
I force my eyes open, and the sight hits right in my chest. Her on her knees, worship and wickedness in her eyes, my hard dick in her mouth, and I know then this is a memory that will live on forever deep in my bones.
I place my palms under her arms, guiding her up slowly, and my trousers puddle at my ankles. I kick them off, and she stands before me, flushed, eyes dark and shining with want.
“Take your top off,” I say—not a command, a plea from somewhere beyond reason.
She moves immediately, fingers finding the clasp behind her neck, metal sliding loose. The fabric falls and she is bare, glorious, breathtaking. Her nipples are soft-pink peaks, and I feel the immediate need to have them in my mouth, so I do.
I lift her, her legs winding around my waist, then carry her across the flat, my mouth everywhere, greedy, reverent, and sucking her perfect tits. Then we cross the threshold of my room, where the city lights paint silver across her skin.
For a second, everything slows.
Her breath is warm against my throat. Her heartbeat echoes against my ribs, trying to sync with mine.
I’ve had trophies, contracts, stadiums roaring my name, but nothing has ever felt like this.
Not one goddamn thing.
I adjust her higher in my arms, her skin fever-hot under my hands, and her eyes pull me under like a tide I never want to escape.
“There’s no going back, kitten,” I breathe against her skin, voice wrecked, heart already hers. “You are all mine.”
And God help me, I don’t ever want to let her go.