We meet before the elevator doors have even closed. Alyss slams into me, my back hitting the mirrored glass behind us as our lips join. I walk her back across the small space until she’s the one pinned in, my hips pressing against her abdomen as she shifts beneath me. My cock is alreadyachingfor her, swelling and tight against my trousers in a way I haven’t felt since—
I slam the door on those thoughts and fucking quickly.
That way, only madness lies.
We don’t talk. I explore her mouth, tasting her, sweet and tart from the bourbon and anticipation, drinking in the noises I can pull from her with my lips. Wondering what other noises she’ll make when she’s spread open beneath me.
I wonder if Alyss feels as I do, if she senses the desperation that drives me as the elevator opens, directly into her apartment. Gripping her hips, I stop her from walking out, and she tips her head to look up at me as I press my fingers into them in silent question.
Her arms wrap around my neck as she takes my invite and jumps, those long legs tightening around my hips as I walk us out, my arms wrapped around her.
Still not close enough. “Where?”
I catch small glimpses as she directs me through her space. An expensive-looking steel coffee machine on the side. A dead plant trails from an otherwise empty shelf.
There are no photos. No memories. No pictures on the walls.
As if Alyss Lidell doesn’t truly exist at all.
In another life, I would want to learn more of her, this woman who managed to steal me for the night with only a glance. In the corner of my eye, I catch the floor-to-ceiling windows that offer a spectacular view of the city, and I change direction.
“What are you doing?” Her teeth drag against the skin of my neck, hot and damp as she chases the sting with her tongue.
“You have a beautiful view. It would be a shame to waste it.”
Lips lifting, she shimmies down my body. “I do love this view. It reminds me of—.”
Her words stutter. Stall.
“Freedom.” It slips from my mouth without thought.
Too much. Toomuch. But she only looks at me, the same heaviness in her eyes that I glimpsed earlier. “Yes.”
She stands before me, saying nothing as I run my eyes over her. I drink in every detail, storing it away to be brought out in the days, weeks, months that will follow tonight.
Alyss stays still, her gaze equally exploring as I step forward. Our eyes meet, her breath hitching as I reach for the buttons on her black shirt and begin to flick them open. She wriggles her shoulders, the shirt dropping down to sit in the crook of her elbows.
She’s not wearing a bra.
“Beautiful,” I say roughly. Her cheeks tinge again, but she doesn’t look away, doesn’t shy from me. Her bare breasts are small, perfectly formed, peaked pale pink nipples tightening under my look as I brush my fingers over them, and she shivers. I keep going, my fingers tracing over silvery scars that stretch over her ribs. She tenses beneath my touch. “Tell me about these.”
I find that I need to know.
I want to know all of these little stories, all of these parts that make up Alyss Lidell.
But there is not enough fuckingtime.
“I grew up in a gang.” Her hands close over mine, not ungentle but firm enough to know that I need to move on.
Nodding, my hands move to the buttons on her dark jeans. “Birth control?”
A half-smile. “Coil. And I get tested regularly.”
She hesitates then. “I don’t… this isn’t something I normally do.”
Just for a moment, she looks uncertain.
My pulse thuds. “That makes two of us, Alyss Lidell.”
