She swallows hard, glancing around at the crowded rooftop. I can see the wheels turning in her head, calculating the risk of calling my bluff.
“Fine,” she mutters, pushing against my chest. “I'll go. Happy now?”
“Ecstatic,” I deadpan, stepping back just enough to let her slip past me.
But as she moves to leave, I catch her wrist. “I'll walk you to your room.”
“I don't need an escort,” she snaps, trying to pull away.
“It wasn't a suggestion.” My fingers tighten slightly around her delicate wrist, feeling her pulse jump beneath my touch.
The elevator is crowded with drunk coaches and administrators, forcing us to stand pressed together in the back corner. I keep my hand on the small of her back, a possessive gesture that isn't lost on her. She stiffens under my touch but doesn't move away.
The elevator lurches downward, and Hennessy shifts against me. The small movement sends need down my spine as her ass brushes against my front. I tighten my gripon her waist, both steadying her and warning her not to push me any further.
“Floor?” A drunk asshole from Michigan slurs, his finger hovering over the panel.
“Eight,” Hennessy answers, her voice clipped.
I don't say a word, just focus on my breathing and try to ignore the scent of her hair. Every inhale fills my lungs with her, making it harder to remember why I shouldn’t bend her over any moment I can.
The elevator stops on twelve, then ten, people filtering out in pairs and groups until it's just us and some kid wearing conference credentials who's staring at his phone. I maintain my grip on Hennessy's waist, my thumb absently stroking the curve where her hip meets her ribs. Her breathing quickens, and I know she feels it too.
This is all I get, all I will allow myself, and so I’m going to touch her for however long I can in this damn steel box.
The kid gets off at nine, and finally, we're alone.
“You're an asshole,” she hisses the moment the doors close, but she doesn't move away from my touch.
“And you're a fucking tease,” I growl back, watching the elevator lights blink. “Letting Connors paw at you like that.”
“Jealous?” She turns in my grip, facing me with those defiant dark eyes. “You don't get to be jealous when you can't decide if you want me or not.”
The elevator dings, and the doors slide open. Hennessy steps out without looking, and I follow, still caught in the gravity of her anger and my own desire.
“I never said I didn't want you,” I mutter, catching up to her with two quick strides.
She stops abruptly, and I nearly collide with her back. “Then what the fuck do you want from me, Beckham?”
“Everything,” I snarl, grabbing her arm and yanking her toward the nearest door—an employee meeting room with its lights off. I shove it open and pull her inside with me.
Before she can speak, I’m crowding her against the wall of the room.
“You want to know what I want? I want you to stop fucking torturing me,” I say, pressing my body against hers. “I want you to stop making me think about you every goddamn second of every goddamn day.”
“So don’t.”
She says it like it’s that simple, and it’s anything but. It’s like when you want something so badly for Christmas or your birthday as a child and you know your family will never be able to get it for you. You covet it because it’s your holy grail. That’s what Hennessy Vega is to me. My holy fucking grail.
“I want to stop feeling like a fucking animal every time you walk into a room.” My hand finds her throat, not squeezing, just holding her there against the wall as I tower over her, my fingers stroking the soft skin there. “But I can't. I've fucking tried.”
Her eyes darken, pupils blown wide with desire. “Then stop fighting it,” she whispers, her voice husky.
Something in me snaps at her words. The last thread of restraint I've been clinging to for years frays and breaks. I crash my mouth against hers, swallowing her gasp of surprise. This isn't a gentle kiss. It's a claiming, a taking, a fucking declaration of ownership.
She responds instantly, her hands fisting in my shirt, pulling me impossibly closer as her tongue battles mine. I bite her lower lip hard enough to make her whimper, the sound shooting straight to my cock.
I spin her around, shoving her face down onto the table. The movement knocks over a stack of folders, sending papers scattering across the polished wood surface. I don't give a fuck about the mess. All I care about is getting inside her before I lose my goddamn mind.
