No matter—he’s got thirty more cars just like it! He won’t even notice it’s gone!
My inner voice is a dumbass.
Summoning all my bravado, I grab a fistful of Connor Quinn’s tee, and yank him against me. In my haste, my nose smashes into his chin painfully.
Shit. That wasn’t as seductive as I’d planned.
Pushing past the sting and blinking away stars, I rally my resolve. It’s now or never. Without allowing another millisecond for my conscience to intervene, I drag his head down and hungrily press my mouth to his rough, whiskey-soaked lips.
And promptly get a mouthful of 5 o’clock shadow as he jerks back. “The fuck you think you’re doing?”
FIVE
Connor
“Taking what I want,” she breathes, crushing her soft lips to mine once more.
For a moment, I consider catching that plump lower lip between my teeth.
The five-feet-nothing foul-mouthed pixie with the hypnotic eyes is scaling me like her own personal Everest, grappling for holds. Gotta give her props for being bold despite our size difference.
Before I fully register it, my hands are roughly groping at her flimsy excuse for a dress, desire overriding all coherent thoughts. She might as well be naked, and I just need a good hard fuck to drown out Dr. Caruso’s monotonous voice grating nonstop in my skull. Going on and on about his so-called “prognosis.”
Tonight, she is exactly what I need—no strings attached, pure, raw fucking. Seems every woman in my bar is circling like a ravenous shark, eyes fixed on the prize—a billionaire’s marriage proposal.
They all claim they’re just here for fun, but give them a few days and they’re hounding me like I owe them something. Someeven have the audacity to show up at my apartment, trying to sweet-talk their way past security.
I crush my lips to hers, claiming her mouth in a rough kiss. She claws at my back, fisting my hair, urging me on as our kiss turns desperate and frantic. Like we’re trying to fuck away some hollow ache for a while.
A groan rumbles in my chest as I lift her off the ground, wobbling only slightly.
She gasps but wraps her legs around my waist, dress riding up. Her body fits perfectly against mine as I prop her up on the cool marble counter.
My fingers dig into her waist, clutching tight as I grind against her. Fuck, she’s scalding hot even through her clothes.
Even with the whiskey haze clouding my mind, I’m aroused.
I pull back just enough to get a good look at her face, our breaths mingling together.
Damn, those eyes are something else. Lethal and haunting all at once. Like nothing I’ve ever seen before. A wild mix of green and brown, as if nature got into a fight and couldn’t pick a side.
I need to silence the voice in my head, if only for tonight. And this handsy little spitfire promises to be a sweet distraction, my angel of mercy. I don’t fuck in my hotel bathrooms, but I’ll make an exception tonight.
“So,” I say gruffly. “What do I call you?”
She bites her lip, sending electricity straight to my groin. “Rose.”
Actually scrap that—no need pretending familiarity exists between us. “You know what, no personal details. But I need to know you’re not hotel staff. Because I don’t fuck employees. If you lie to me, and I find out after we’ve fucked, you’ll be fired. Are we clear?”
Her eyes narrow. “You’re kind of an asshole.”
“Just being straightforward.” I incline my head. “Well?”
“Well what?”
“Are you currently receiving paychecks signed by me?”
She crosses her arms. “Seriously?No, I don’t work for you. Who are you anyway?”
