“That was hot.” She wipes her forehead with the back of her hand. “I know the focus was on reducing carbon emissions, but you. Up there. On that stage. Might have been the catalyst for more global warming.”
I grin at her playful comment, basking in her attention when she puts on her best serious face. Though the glint in her eyes does give her away.
“I’m serious. I didn’t think I was into engineers, but you changed that for me tonight.”
“Is that so?” I take a step forward, eyebrows rising in curiosity. “All engineers? Or one in particular?”
Her face turns to the side as she bites down her smile. “All engineers for sure. There’s something about the way they move, and the way they talk—”
I don’t let her finish.
I cup her face and crash my lips against hers, her mouth parting instantly in surrender. Our tongues tangle in a desperate, ravenous rhythm until we’re both gasping for air.
“We shouldn’t be doing this in public,” Vivienne says, leaning for a kiss. “You’re sort of cockblocking me from the other options. There was this one guy—”
I’m on her again within seconds, and this time around, she’s the one smiling against my lips. I can’t stop myself from reciprocating the gesture, not caring if our teeth clash. Eventually, I pull back, the tips of our noses brushing as we lock eyes.
Vivienne Brown—once my most alluring enemy, and now the most intoxicating addiction.
Her fingers intertwine with mine before she tugs us out of the backstage area and into a quiet part of the conference hotel.
I trail her like a fool, not giving it much thought until I’m pushed in an elevator, and she steps in like a siren.
I’ve never seen Vivienne’s pupils so dilated before. And fuck, with that fire within them—that passion and hunger for more, I can’t help but lean back against the railing and admire the view.
Without taking her eyes off me, she presses the button to our floor, her tongue sweeping over her bottom lip.
“Looks like it’s just the two of us.” Vivienne closes the distance between us in three slow, tantalizing steps. Her arms wrap around my neck, craning to meet my gaze even in heels.
“What are you going to do about it?” I quirk a brow at the insinuation behind her words.
Hungry hands glide down my arms, drift across my torso, and stop above the waistband of my black pants. She slips her fingers inside, teasing along the edge of my boxers before she starts fumbling with my belt buckle.
I catch her hand, stopping her before she goes any further.
“Not here.” My voice is firm and my gaze dark as I fight the hot rush of blood surging south.
It’s a lost cause—the vixen in front of me refuses to let me think of anything else when her palm lands against the ache behind my trousers. She squeezes firmly, eliciting a low groan from my lips.
This is hell bordering on heaven.
“Vivienne.” My voice grows wary when I see her lowering herself to her knees.
Her eyes never leave mine, but I can’t look down, not when I know I’ll snap from the desire.
Instead, I keep my eyes on the climbing numbers of the elevator. Twenty more floors
to go, and then we’re safe from the risk of someone walking in and the camera capturing more than it already has.
A sharp clink of metal confirms my belt is unfastened. And with one popped button and a swift sweep of a zipper, she’s tugging my pants down to reveal dark boxer briefs.
“Vivienne, get up. Not here,” I say, still not looking at her.
I’m bordering on the edge of insanity.
Her fingers tug the elastic waistband as the elevator dings to a stop. Relief washes over me that we won’t be doing this here—until I see which floor we’re on.Sixty-three. Our hotel room was on the sixty-ninth.
“Get up.” My hand grasps onto Vivienne’s wrist, halting her movements. There’s a pout to her lips. “Someone is getting on, Vivienne.”
