Her lips fluttered open, and he tasted the freshness of her tongue on his.
Her body twined against his, and his thighs and chest knew the yielding softness of her.
And Tristan caught fire.
The rushing blood that had been anger that she would think for even a moment that he would leave her, that he would sacrifice her and save his own skin, turned to desire in his flesh. He wanted to grab his dick out of his pants, toss her silk skirt aside or rip it off her, and pin her to that wall like a golden butterfly whilst he fucked her.
He needed to at least touch her, to run his thumb through her folds and press her clit until she was gasping but not over. Her soft mews would suffice until they were somewhere safe and private where he could make her scream for him. So he bent and caught the hem of her skirt and ran his hand up her soft, bare thigh, gripping her just enough to confuse her, until his fingers reached soft, stretchy lace. “What the hell is this?”
“Um, underwear?” she whispered.
He grabbed the soft fabric in his fist and yanked hard, ripping them off her. “I told you no panties.”
“I didn’t think you meant it,” Colleen said, blinking her eyes in astonishment.
He slid one finger up her thigh and straight inside her center, already slippery for him. He pumped it, his thumb rough on her clit, while her eyes closed and she bit her lip. “I want to be able to do this to you any time I feel like it. I want to throw you on a table and lick this every single time the urge takes me. And I want to take you up against a wall or over a table or drag you on top of me in the back seat of a car whenever I want. Do you understand?”
She nodded, the little lines between her eyebrows clenching, and her core tightening around his finger.
So he stopped.
And pulled away.
“Not when you’ve been naughty,” he said.
Colleen flopped forward, bracing herself on her knees while she gasped.
His watch chimed that the time was two minutes before eight. They couldn’t keep the Russian mobsters waiting.
Tristan kissed her anyway, his tongue penetrating her mouth the way he wanted to press into her with his body, and then he broke off the kiss, certain that his lust, practically rage-lust, shone in his eyes as he glared at her. “Tonight. After I take care of these damned Russian criminals and pry us both out of this dilemma, I’ll have you, tonight. Last night, I was gentle because it was our first time. If you think I don’t want you, I’ll make you understand how much I do tonight.”
Colleen’s eyes were glazed like she’d been drinking, and her lips were still parted.
He cleaned up a smear of lipstick from the side of her mouth with his thumb and whispered, “You are important to me. At first, you were just cute, but now I like you. I like the way you make little mewing sounds when you’re about to come, and I like the way you sucked on those strawberries this morning like they were my cock. I want you to sit at my feet and hold onto my leg like I’m your everything because you already are mine. I like everything about you, but it’s time to go. The car is waiting.”
The elevator ride down the hotel was torture with that succulent woman standing so close to him and his dick swollen so hard it ached. He thought about every atrocity he could remember and all the times he’d wanted to punch a guy, trying to divert the blood from his trousers.
Bulky Russians loitered in the lobby, and Tristan caught the eye of one of them as they exited the elevator. They followed Tristan and Colleen toward the car and then veered off at a signal from the driver.
A limousine driven by a different stolid Russian waited for them in front of the hotel.
Jian had offered to come with them as some sort of a bodyguard, but Tristan had shut that idea down fast. Instead, he told Jian to clear out the hotel room after they’d left, take the car, and wait for Tristan’s call that they were safe or otherwise.
He helped Colleen into the Russian’s car. She lifted handfuls of her skirt as she climbed in, exposing her lithe ankles.
That Grecian-goddess dress made him want to kneel at her feet, throw that fluttering gold silk over his head, drag her legs apart, and bury his tongue in her until she was screaming Yes, please, over and over again.
Ever since he’d met Colleen at the GameShack, he’d found her interesting. When she’d hopped out of her friend’s car wearing that white skirt that had fluttered around her thighs, he’d planned to slowly venture the idea of going farther with him than Los Angeles, farther than New York, to let him show her London, Paris, Monaco, and Geneva and see the world through her eyes as if for the first time.
He wanted to tell her she was a good girl after he ravaged her body, and he wanted to see her weepy little face when he paddled her ass pink when she wasn’t, like with those damn panties.
Tristan liked having a little, and he hadn’t had the time to cultivate one for far too long. Building the AI that was going to make him a billionaire had taken his every waking moment for years.
On the ride to the restaurant, both of them were silent.
And his dick finally wilted enough that he could think.
Tristan tried to think of conversation for a few minutes, but he didn’t want to divulge even the slightest piece of information to his adversaries. If the car wasn’t bugged, the driver would report every word they said. When he sneaked a glance at Colleen, she was watching the desert mountains of Los Angeles roll by the windows outside. Her expression gave nothing away.
