It’s not gentle. Not careful. It’s the kind of kiss that says everything I’ve been biting back. The kind that says if it weren’t for these people, you’d already be naked.
I break the kiss, teeth scraping her bottom lip until the very last second—like it’s killing me to end this.
She lets out a shaky breath, and my eyes flick to her thigh, to the temptation I can’t stop thinking about.
“Let’s go,” I say.
The secondwe step into the elevator I’m already crushing my mouth to hers, inhaling her like I just came up for air. My hand slips into her dress, gripping her bare ass, pulling her closer. She moans into the kiss, rolling her hips toward me, grinding against the firm length of my cock.
The elevator comes to a stop on the third floor.
“Christ,” I murmur, dragging my mouth from hers with more restraint than I’ve used in months.
I hate public elevators.
Jordan doesn’t get the memo. Her hand slides to the back of my neck, and she pulls me right back in as another couple steps inside. I kiss her anyway. Because she’s irresistible and I’ve never been afraid of an audience.
This couple can pull up a chair, for all I care.
“Oh—this is going up.” A woman’s voice cuts through the haze, but I barely register it. They step off, and a second later we’re movingagain.
I grab her hips and turn us, backing her against the elevator wall. Her fingers slide lower, teasing?—
Fuck.
The elevator stops again.
I groan, catching her hand. “Come on,” I mutter, already pulling her out the second the doors open.
We’re down the hall and into our suite moments later, buzzed, wired, high on anticipation. I walk her backward, mouths still locked, until her back hits the wall.
She shoves at my jacket, and I shrug it off, letting it fall. My hand slides down toward the slit in her dress, slipping inside, brushing warm, soft skin, her thigh damp enough that my breath stutters.
Desire slams into me, full force. My fingers drift higher, knuckles brushing against her smooth, bare pussy. She exhales against my mouth, warm, sweet, and loaded with liquor.
Whiskey.
Fuck.
I freeze.
Every primal instinct paused against its will.
I break our kiss with a rough groan, chest heaving, cock throbbing, forcing my hand to still—because one more inch and I won’t stop. Because if I touch her the way I want to, I won’t come back from it.
I promised her.
She kisses me again, confused when I don’t respond.
“What are you doing?” she whispers, breathy. “Why’d you stop?”
Her fingers tug at my tie, loosening the knot.
I drag my hand away like it burns, sliding both palms up to her neck, to her jaw, touching her, but not the way I want to.
“You’re drunk, babe.”
Her brows knit. “So?”
