IRL: In Real Life (After Oscar, #1)(57)

He turned his head and began to murmur soft, filthy things in my ear too low for Hank to hear from the front seat.

“Are you hard for me?”

“Oh god,” I breathed.

“Are you leaking? Do you wish I had my hand on you right now?”

“Wells…”

“I can’t wait to peel these fucking clothes off you and make you stand before me naked. I want to see every inch of your body.”

I let out a soft whine.

“And then I’ll trace a line with my tongue from your lips to the tip of your cock. Would you like that, Conor?”

“Ngh.”

The low rumble of his laughter felt like warm brandy in the small confines of the car. My panting sounded obscene by comparison.

“Do you want me to fuck you? Push into that tight ass and—”

I couldn’t take it anymore, I turned toward him and buried my face in his neck, whispering frantically for him to stop before I embarrassed myself. He smelled so fucking good, and the rich cashmere of his coat was soft against my cheek. I couldn’t let myself think about who this was and how inappropriate the entire situation seemed to be.

He was a business partner.

But the deal had been finalized. The papers signed. Besides, his agreement was with my mother, not me. And couldn’t my reward for this shitty week be one night of crazy hot sex with the uptight but extremely alluring man? He was only into casual sex, and that was all I needed.

Clearly, the man wasn’t relationship material. And lived in New York and was married to his job. And for so many other reasons, all this needed to be was one night of getting each other off before I flew home the following day. Indulging in this insane physical attraction and then putting this whole experience behind me.

“Will that be all, sir?” Hank asked from the front seat. I realized we’d pulled up to the front door of a high-rise apartment building not far from my hotel.

“Yes. See you in the morning. Thank you,” Wells said, resuming his professional tone. His in charge tone.

Which only made me harder. Thankfully I had my coat to fold around me as I exited the car and followed Wells into the building. Nerves simmered in my gut, and I wondered if I was making a colossal mistake.

Conor, men hook up with other men all the damned time. Just because this happens to be the man you’ve always thought you hated…

“You okay? It’s not too late to change your mind,” Wells said softly as he nodded at the doorman and led me inside with a hand to my lower back. “I can walk you back to your hotel. It’s only a couple of blocks from—”

“I’m fine,” I interrupted. “I don’t want to go back to my hotel. I want to go upstairs with you.”

He seemed to relax then, as if I’d said something he really needed to hear. We made our way to the elevator and shot up to the fifty-third floor. I tried my best not to feel out of place, but the sleek, marbled lobby alone had been luxurious enough to remind me Wells played at an entirely different level than I did.

When I stepped foot into Wells’s living room, all the air vanished from my lungs. Two of the four walls were floor-to-ceiling windows looking out onto the park and the city below.

“Holy crap,” I blurted, going automatically toward the view. “This is amazing.”

Wells chuckled as he moved around the room behind me, turning on a lamp. Suddenly, the view was harder to see because of the light reflections on the glass.

“Wait,” I said over my shoulder. “Can you turn it back off?”

The light disappeared, and I felt Wells approach from behind. Soft lips brushed the skin of my ear as his hands came around to unbutton my coat.

“I spend quite a bit of time staring out of these windows,” he said against my ear. His warm breath smelled like the scotch we’d had, which turned me on even more than I was already. If that was possible.

“I can see why. The views are incredible. This place must be worth millions.”

“Mm. Sometimes it seems less like home than my office does.” There was a melancholy tone to his words.

I turned around to read his face, but it was his usual unreadable default. “Why do you work so much when you already have everything you could ever need?”

His eyes met mine, and in them, I saw flashes of the unexpected. Insecurity, exhaustion, need.

I leaned in and pressed my lips to his before he could answer. The feel of my mouth on his for the first time made me drunker than the alcohol had. Everything about him was masculine and strong. The feel of his arms sliding around me, the taste of scotch on his tongue, the scent of whatever the hell kind of expensive cologne he wore mixed with the faint sweaty smell of a man’s body after a long day.

God, I was so attracted to him, I was beginning to feel desperate. Even more desperate than I was before.

Wells pulled me tightly to him as he took control of the kiss. I felt myself give over to him and melt against his hard body. His hands seemed to roam all over me—my back, my ass, my hair. Little needy sounds escaped my throat while he devoured my mouth. I wasn’t sure I’d ever been so consumed by someone’s kiss before. It made me crazy, made me want to crawl inside of him and get as much of him as possible.

“More,” I gasped into his mouth. “Wells.”

He moved from my mouth to my jaw, trailing kisses to my ear before taking my lobe between his teeth. “What do you need, Conor? What do you like?”