I’m not talking about the lobby.
Or him.
Or a goddamn thing.
His grin’s got no rush to it.
He knew we’d end up here.
This hour’s been stuck under his skin since the Astor.
I snatch his jaw,
pulling his face down until his gaze hits mine.
“You said you miss fuckin’ me, huh?”
My fingers dig into the stubble peppering his cheeks,
and his mouth falls open on a broken breath.
I raise my chin.
“How bad you miss fuckin’ me?”
His jaw locks up in my hold,
devilry dancing in his eyes.
“Bad enough to fuck you through the wall if you let me.”
My palm lands on his shoulder,
and I lower him.
He hits the floor, knees cracking black marble,
breath blowing hot across my hip,
and his eyes crawl up my body,
crystal blue filtering through his lashes.
But they never make it to my face.
They stop at my tits, and he stares,
sliding his hands behind his back,
fingers locking together.
I grip his hair and yank him closer?—
mouth first?—
before Andrew walks back into my thoughts.
Ben’s head bows,
