Page 17 of The Trade


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I can feel the heat from her lips, even after she pulls away.

Once she takes a seat, I climb up and settle beside her. I drape my arm along the back of the bench, hand resting on her shoulder, and pull her a little closer, letting her lean into me. I think I hear a quiet sigh, but it could just be the horse’shooves clopping over the pavement. Either way, it hits me—I love having this woman in my arms.

Her warmth presses against me, soft and solid at the same time, and the faint scent of her wraps around me. My chest tightens in that way that makes me want to hold her tighter, to feel her even more. Everything else—the cold, the noise, the moving horse—blurs into the background. Frank rattles off the route he’s taking around the park, but I barely register the words.

All I can focus on is her—the way she fits perfectly against me, the subtle weight of her body molded to mine, the heat of her skin against my arm. My pulse jumps every time she shifts just enough to brush against me, and a low, dangerous thought slides through my head.

I don’t want to let go, not now, not ever.

After we’re on our way and Frank leaves us to ourselves, I tug her to me and set my hand on her leg. “Are you cold?” I place a kiss on the top of her head.

“A little, but you’re keeping me warm.” She leans her head back to look at me.

“Can I tell you something?” I ask, looking between her eyes and her lips.

“Yes,” she breathes.

“I’ve never wanted to kiss someone as badly as I want to kiss you.” I inch my face closer to hers.

She reaches her hand up to my face. “So then, kiss me.” Her hand holds the back of my neck, and she pulls me toward her.

I don’t care that Frank is with us or that people passing by can see us. I need to taste these cherry-red lips.

“Are you sure?”

“If you don’t kiss me, Blitzen, I’m going to kiss you?—”

Before she can finish what she’s saying, I press my lips to hers. Her mouth is soft, warm, and impossibly sweet, and I wantmore than just a taste—I want all of her. I trace the seam of her lips with my tongue, and when she parts, I slide inside, feeling my tongue brushing against hers. She tastes like a danger I want to keep indulging in.

She twists against me without breaking the kiss, and I lift her legs, draping them over mine. Her body molds against mine, every curve pressing into me, every movement setting a fire in my chest. My hand slides along her thigh, cupping her ass cheek through the layers, feeling the heat radiating through her clothes. I want her skin to skin, but even this—layers and all—is enough to make me ache.

Her hand snakes up the back of my head, running through my hair, pulling me deeper. Our tongues slide and tangle together in a slow, hungry rhythm. I feel her pulse in the subtle pressure of her hands, her hips shifting on the seat, the faint tremor in her body against mine. Every touch sparks something feral in me, a tension that makes my hands clench and my pulse pound.

Time ceases. Frank rattles off directions in front of us, but I don’t hear a word. I don’t care. All that exists is her, the way she melts into me, and my need to want more.

Finally, I lean back slightly, resting my forehead against hers. My chest rises with the burn of desire, hands still lingering on her body, reluctant to leave. “Come back to my hotel with me,” I say, voice deep, certain, a command disguised as a promise.

She pulls back and looks around, then back at me and nods. “Okay.” Then she slams her mouth on mine again.

We kiss until my lips feel swollen, but I don’t want to stop. I never want to stop.

A throat clears. “Hate to interrupt you lovebirds, but we’re almost back to our departure area.”

I pull away from our kiss and turn toward Frank. “Actually, can you drop us off in front of The Plaza?”

“No problem, sir.” He nods his head.

I look back at her, and she’s biting her lip, watching me, but she has a soft smile on her lips.

I take my thumb and press it against her lip and tug it free from her teeth. “That’s mine to bite.”

She touches her tongue to the tip of my thumb.

“Fuck. Yes,” I groan.

The carriage pulls to a stop, and Frank steps out of his seat and waits for us to disembark. I step off first, then turn and reach for her, grabbing hold of her waist and lifting her off the carriage. When I set her down, I get into my pocket for my wallet and hand Frank three hundred-dollar bills and shake his hand.

“Sir, I’m so sorry to ask, but can I get your autograph?” Frank leans in.