My hands glide to the top of her legs, her skin warming underneath my fingers as I grip her thighs tightly. “Say it, Kennedy. Say what you want.”
“I want you,” she says, breathy and wanton as her body moves forward into my touch. “Won’t that cause problems for you?”
“With Hassan?” I ask and hold her face in one hand.
“Yes.” Her cheek flushes under my thumb.
“I don’t work with him and never will. I’ll handle him.”
“Nix.” She leans forward, melting into my touch.
“Shh.” I bring my lips to hers and she shivers. “Don’t stop me, Ken.”
“Shut up and kiss me.” Her tongue darts out, sweeping across my lips, and I lose all control. I know it’s a bad idea, but I can’t stop myself. My need for her outweighs everything else, and I can’t contain the growl that creeps up my throat at the contact.
The warmth of her Louis-coated tongue has my already hard cock straining against my pants for relief. Needing to hold her mouth against mine, I move a hand from her legs, sweeping it up her arm and tangling in her hair. As I fist it in my hands, she moans softly against my lips and melts into me. The harshness of our breaths rings in my ears, louder than the dull thud of the club music upstairs thumping against the ceiling and reverberating down the walls.
Everything else fades away.
It’s only her and me, our lips entwined and our pulses racing. I haven’t felt a rush like this since I first got in this business. Maybe it’s the chance that this could cause friction between Hassan and me that makes it so enticing and exciting, but one thing is for sure—Kennedy Preston is bad news.
11
Kennedy
Nix’s mouth is warm,his kiss demanding. He tastes like Cognac and cinnamon, and I can’t seem to get enough. When he moves his knee up to the chair I’m sitting on and slides it between my legs, they part in silent obedience.
He gives a low hum of amusement. “Can’t get these legs open for me fast enough, can you?”
“Less talking and more kissing,” I say, taking two fistfuls of his shirt and bringing him closer to me.
He leans over me, sliding a hand around to grip my ass. I wrap my leg around his waist and he returns his mouth to mine, his kiss making me moan softly. I’m hot, achy, and high on the feeling of letting go of everything but this moment.
I’m not watching or analyzing. I’m not working Nix so I can get information out of him like I’m supposed to be. Despite the blue wig, it’s Kennedy kissing Nix, not Eva.
When I tighten my leg around Nix’s waist, he groans and his free hand slides into my hair. He pulls it hard enough to make me gasp. I bite his lower lip to even the score.
“Fuck,” he says breathlessly. “I’m not sure I’ll be able to stop.”
“So don’t.”
His eyes darken, and he’s lowering his mouth back to mine when the sound of someone walking into the room makes us unwind ourselves from each other and turn.
“Nix.” It’s Grayson, the owner of the Loft. His calculating gaze sweeps over us, and it hits me just how fucking stupid I’m being right now.
Grayson is a tall, broad, biracial man with a permanent scowl. He lacks the smoothness of men like Nix and Hassan, but he doesn’t need it. He commands attention and respect, not just because he’s a powerful man, but also because he’s known for having people who disrespect him killed.
“What?” Nix’s aggravated tone makes my stomach roll. He’s got balls, I’ll give him that.
“You’re needed in a suite upstairs. That proposition we discussed?”
“Can it wait?”
Grayson’s eyes narrow. “Fuck no, but the pussy can. You in or not?”
Nix sighs softly. “Yeah. I’m right behind you.”
Grayson shakes his head and leaves the room. I’m not surprised he didn’t even acknowledge me because that’s his style.
