He dropped one hand to her lower back and pulled her closer, thrusting up. Threading the fingers of his other hand into her hair at the base of her neck, he pulled her mouth to his.
She opened for him, her lips soft and pliant. Her tongue met his and they dueled for control. Parry. Thrust. Taking and giving in equal measure.
Her fingernails flicked his nipples and he groaned, pulling her down hard on his lap. She answered with her own groan and rocked against his rock hard shaft.
He drew back from her mouth and sucked in a breath. “We should go for a walk.”
Emme blinked a few times like she’d just woken. “Huh? Why?”
“Because I want to bury my cock balls deep in you and you can’t right now,” he explained, thrusting his hips up again.
“Oh.”
That word almost did him in, spoken somewhere between a gasp and a sigh.
She licked her lips,. “We could—”
“No. I’d rather delay gratification and wait for later.”
Rounding her back, she dropped her forehead to his shoulder. “Shit. Sorry.”
He shrugged his shoulder, forcing her head up. Cradling her chin in his hand, he ran his thumb over her bottom lip, swollen from kissing. “Babe, quit apologizing. Being sexy as fuck is not something to be sorry about.”
“I—” She looked shocked. Like no one had ever told her she was beautiful. Given the chance, he’d tell her every day.
He dropped a soft kiss on the tip of her nose. “It’s almost six anyway. Why don’t we order room service and we can continue this over dessert.”
A perfectly arched eyebrow rose. “Dessert?”
“Yeah. I think we’re going to need to put down a towel.” He smirked. “I have a huge sweet tooth.”
Emme stared wide-eyed at the television, the stuffed grape leaf half way to her mouth. “Oh my god.”
“What?” Jordan asked. He looked at the TV. A man was being put into a police car, his hands cuffed behind his back.
Dropping her food on a plate, she grabbed the remote from the floor. “Does this have—?” She pressed a button and jerked the remote as if moving it would make the TV do what she wanted it to. She rewound to the beginning of the segment.
The British reporter’s voice filled the suite.“Doctor Bennedict Wormwell, a physician with Medical Relief United, was arrested by Interpol today at his London offices on charges of human trafficking and aiding terror groups. It is believed Doctor Wormwell fed information to militia groups in African and Middle East countries where they would kidnap international aid works for ransom. He was most recently connected to the kidnapping of American Emmeline France from a non-profit clinic in Mali. A spokesman for the France family has confirmed Ms. France was rescued several days ago. He further stated she is safe in an undisclosed location while she recuperates from her ordeal. In local news—”
She muted the TV and looked at him. “Is that what Jared was talking about?”
“Unless he knew you’d be worried about the status of the pound,” he said, trying to gauge her reaction.
“Smart ass.” Glaring, she picked up her food. “Remind me never to piss off Titan.”
“That’s probably a good life goal to have.” He wiped his fingers and dropped the napkin on his plate. “You good other wise? About…” he pointed to the television.
She tilted her head and chewed. “I don’t know. Part of me is glad he was arrested, but a part of me is upset he didn’t get the ever-loving crap beat out of him in the process.”
He threw his head back against the couch and laughed. “Are you always this blood thirsty?”
She shrugged. “Not always. Just when people get me kidnapped and almost killed.”
Sobering, he lost his smile. “You’re right. He needed the crap beat out of him.” He tilted his head at the remnants of the picnic spread out on the floor in the front of them. “You done?”
Contemplating their dinner, she snagged the last grape leaf and popped it in her mouth. “Yeah.”
“Good.” He gathered the plates from the towel spread on the floor and put them on the table under the television console. Grabbing the remote from the floor, he turned off the TV and threw the remote on the couch. “Time for dessert.”
