He doesn’t hesitate.
His fingers close around mine, warm and firm, as he tugs me closer, and his arm settles around me.
“Seb was right,” he murmurs, watching the fire. “I don’t usually invite guests out with us. But he’s always telling me to loosen up.” His eyes fall back to mine; his gaze is steady, and his dark lashes cast shadows over his sharp cheekbones.
The way my pulse skitters actually catches me by surprise. “And how are you feeling right now, Lochlan?”
For a moment, time seems to stand still, then he closes the short distance between us with a kiss, letting that be his answer. I pull back, breath caught in my throat, and whisper against his lips, “Do you have a room here?”
Locke’s fingers are firm against my wrist as he leads me through the halls of the hotel, moving with a kind of quiet confidence that makes my stomach tighten. The elevator dings open, and as soon as the doors close behind us, he turns, crowding me against the mirrored wall.
I press up onto my toes, brushing my lips against his, just enough to make him want to chase me. A flicker of something dark flashes in his eyes before he takes my jaw in his hand, tilting my chin up. Then he kisses me. Hard. Like he’s been holding back all night.
I feel him everywhere. His grip on my waist, the heat of his body, the way his other hand slides into my hair, tangling at the nape of my neck as he deepens the kiss. His tongue sweeps against mine, slow and controlled, like he has all the time in the world. Like heenjoysmaking me wait.
The elevator dings open again, and he pulls away just long enough to murmur, “This way.”
He walks with purpose, like a man used to being followed. And I do. The suite door unlocks with a wave of a keycard and a quickbeep, and when he pushes it open, I barely have time to take in the space before my back hits the door.
But,fuck, it’s gorgeous.
Dim golden light spills from a chandelier hanging in the center of the room and reflects off a sleek bar and a mini-fridge stocked with top-shelf liquor. An electric fireplace flickers, casting soft shadows over the plush mid-century modern seating area and polished tile floors. I can make out the distant strip glowing against the night sky through the floor-to-ceiling windows on the opposite wall.
Classic aesthetic, modern luxury. It suits him.
His mouth is on my neck before I can say a word, teeth grazing the sensitive spot below my jaw, and a soft sound escapes before I can stop it. His chuckle is dark, almost smug, when he says, “Don’t hold back.”
I drag my nails over his suit, feeling the tension in his shoulders, the crisp fabric stretching to the max now. He presses closer, and I can feel just how much he’s enjoying this. “Maybe,” I murmur, my breath hitching as his hands slide up my thighs, “you should earn more.”
His lips part against my skin, exhaling as a wicked smile takes over his face. Then, he lifts me in one smooth motion. My hands grip his shoulders, fingers digging in as he carries me through the suite. Past the fireplace, the dining table I was already dreaming about bending over, and straight into the bedroom.
He lays me back on the mattress, lifting my dress and throwing it to the floor, but he doesn’t climb over me right away. He stands there for a moment, watching, letting the anticipation build between us.
When he finally leans in, his mouth trails down my sternum. He moves slowly, savoring every inch, and I arch up into him before I can even think about it.
“Impatient,” he whispers against me, his breath hot on my skin. “Relax. I don’t disappoint.”
His lips trail lower, and I can’t stop the shiver that rolls through me. My hands clutch his shoulders, breath hitching, pulse racing.
His eyes come back to mine, dark and unyielding, and that look tells me he knows exactly what he’s doing.
I let myself feel it all. The heat, the intensity of his gaze, the unmistakable pull.
But I haven’t forgotten why I’m really here.
I wake up with something warm and heavy against my chest. I open my eyes to see his tattooed arm trapping me beneath it. His breathing is slow and steady next to me. Deep enough that he might not stir if I’m careful.
Shit, what time is it?
It’s still dark, but dawn is creeping along the edges of the horizon outside the window. My pulse hammers in my ears as I test the weighton me, careful not to move too quickly. My leg feels like lead as I inch it over the side of the bed, toes finally brushing the cool tile.
I roll onto my side, sliding away just enough to get out from under him, muscles coiled with tension. Every breath, every tiny movement, risks waking him.
Sitting up, I let a soft exhale escape, staying as still as possible.
I let myself slip last night.
I glance down at Locke, still asleep. His arm is stretched lazily across the bed now. His breathing is deep and steady. The comforter drapes low around his hips, exposing more of his fully tattooed back than I need to see right now. Gorgeous and, thankfully, still oblivious.
