I pull back slowly but with conviction, even though my body feels like it’s being gravitationally pulled back toward him and my brain is screaming DON’T STOP. I break the kiss. I am nothing if not competitive, and I will not let this man—this delectable stranger—feel like he’s won some kind of flirt-off. No. Absolutely not, no.
I don’t pull back far, just enough to break our contact. My eyes flutter open at the same time his do, and any hint of that smile on his lips is gone. I see the debate flickering behind those unreal crystal blue eyes and dark, heavy eyebrows. I feel the hesitation. His hand on my jaw gets looser. His thumb lifts up like it’s going to sweep my lips again, but it doesn’t. He stops because I pulled back, and it’s made him uncertain. Good. I don’t want to be the only one off-balance here. But he doesn’t want to stop—I can sense that, feel his desire radiating off of him. I can see the debate in his head dancing behind those light eyes. Does he play it cool and wait for me to make another move, or does he just go for what he wants, admitting to himself, and to me, that he can’t resist just as much as I can’t?
He tightens his grip on me, and I smile for the briefest second before it’s forced from my face when he leans in and captures my lips again. This time he’s the one who gave in. Now we’re even.
He takes a step toward me, and I think he’s going to push me up against the wall, but he doesn’t. He takes his other hand and presses it flat against my lower back and pulls me into him so tightly that the air is pushed from my lungs. It’s fine. I wasn’t really breathing anyway. When his tongue slides into my mouth I swear to God it causes actual sparks as soon as it touches mine. I feel heat rush from the contact down through the rest of my body. It causes me to make some weird noise—a soft, gentle moan—and I wrap my arms around his neck, my fingertips skimming the back of his hair where it meets the collar of his jacket.
“I need to see you. Somewhere other than here,” he whispers into the kiss.
“I can’t leave.” It’s all I can manage because I don’t want to stop kissing him.
“Neither can I…” he whispers back into the kiss.
“You’re here with your coworkers?” I question, remembering the glass of champagne he had Sara get him and finally pulling my lips from his. “Or someone else?”
“Coworkers,” he says after a pause.
“Are you with the accounting firm or the law office?”
Before he can answer, footsteps echo on the concrete and we step away from each other. Sara appears at the end of the hall. “Hey!” She pauses to give Sebastian an extra-long, extra-flirty smile before turning back to me. “Trey is looking for you. He’s in the weight room with Avery Westwood.”
I make a face at that name, but she’s too busy batting her eyelashes at Seb to notice.
“Tell him I’ll be right there,” I reply and she nods, waves flirtatiously at Sebastian and then retreats, leaving us alone again. I frown. “Trey owns the place. He invited his stupid hockey friend Avery Westwood. He’s trying to woo him into doing an ad for us.”
He smirks at that; it’s deep, dark and delicious. “Sounds like you’re not a Westwood fan.”
“I hate all hockey players.” He looks taken aback and I realize “hate” is a really strong word, even if I mean it. “It’s a long story, but trust me, I have my reasons.”
He pauses for a second but then he reaches up and cups the side of my face again. My whole body tingles. He’s going to kiss me again and I want him to, but any second my brother or Sara or someone is going to come looking for me, and this moment will be gone—maybe forever. Suddenly, my urge to prevent that from happening is all-consuming, and I grab his hand and cross the hallway to the door to the laundry room.
Without thinking, I push it open and pull him in after me.
Chapter 3
Sebastian
I’m about to kiss her again and internally debating how to tell her I’m a hockey player—someone she just professed to hate—when she suddenly pulls me across the hall, opens a door that has a small silver plaque on the front markedPrivateand pulls me inside.
She flips on a light. It’s a long, narrow room painted an ocean blue. Along one wall are three industrial-size front-loading washing machines. Across from that are four industrial-size front-loading dryers. On the wall opposite the door is floor-to-ceiling open shelving filled with bright blue-and-orange towels monogrammed with the gym logo. Next to the door is a metal folding table.
I look over my shoulder and, sure enough, there’s a perfect silver deadbolt just above the handle. I smile. When I look back at her she’s smiling too. “Out there I was just going to kiss you,” I explain to her in a quiet but confident tone. “If that door gets locked, I am going to do a lot more than kiss you.”
She walks toward me, her cheeks turning a delicious pink, and just when I think she’s going to kiss me, she slides to my left, her hand reaching behind me. As her lips ghost the edge of my jaw, I hear the undeniable scrape of the lock twisting. I reach up and grab her face in both my hands and our eyes lock. She looks slightly nervous but very excited. “I am going to make you come so hard, baby.”
Before she can react to my promise, I cover her mouth with my own and part her lips with my tongue. She kisses me back, matching my passion. Her mouth is warm and soft and it’s like taking a small lick from a delicious ice cream cone on a hot summer day. It’s perfect but not nearly enough. I move a hand from her face to her waist and pull her against me as I move my hips, pressing my hard-on into her stomach.
She responds by reaching down and grabbing my ass.
Oh fuck, this girl is perfect.
Chapter 4
Shayne
Am I doing this? I’ve never done this. I said I would never do this. But…oh, my God…I think as he pulls my earlobe between his teeth. Holy crap, I want to do this. With him. Here. Now. I can usually pretend like my sex hiatus is no big deal, but it’s been two years and four months and suddenly, that is a big freaking deal.
“No regrets,” I whisper as I let him push me back into the room until my ass hits one of the dryers. I was saying it to myself, not him, but he heard, and his ice-blue eyes find mine.
