That One Night: A Pucking Around Prequel Novella (7)

He steps in close behind me. “Can I touch you?” he murmurs, his warm breath fanning against my ear.

I fight a shiver of want as I nod.

His hands go to my shoulders, flicking gently under my hair, until we’re skin against skin. His rough palms slide over my shoulders and down my arms.

The second the elevator dings and the doors slide open, I click on my heels inside the car, walking straight to the back. He follows me in, his presence overwhelming as the doors slide shut. There’s a finality to it. A promise of everything that’s about to come.

I spin around, gripping the cold metal handrail. He presses in, cupping my face. We both take a deep breath, our souls clicking into place like the gears of a machine. We exhale and I feel him everywhere. I want him everywhere.

“Can I kiss you?” he asks, already all but brushing his lips against mine.

I let out a needy sigh, letting go of the handrail to grip his soft t-shirt with both hands. “God yes—”

And then he’s kissing me. His body covers mine as he claims all my air. I open to him, my hands letting go of his shirt to snake around his neck. I weave my fingers into his hair, arching up on my toes. There’s just enough to grab and I rake his nape with my nails, earning a groan that has him pressing against me with his hips.

We’re playful as we explore, our mouths opening until I’m flicking his tongue and teasing his bottom lip.

Ding.

His hand drops down from my face, tracing the column of my neck. I fight a whimper of need. I love a man’s hands around my neck. I arch into him, daring him to squeeze, but he quickly moves lower and I lose that tantalizing pressure.

Slow down, girl. It’s been two seconds. Not getting choked in an elevator is probably a good thing.

He’s getting under my skin, burrowing deep. Our energy dances, coiling and joining. It’s ethereal and real all at once. We keep kissing and I sense him with every part of me.

Ding.

His fingers trace my bare skin from my throat down between my breasts. This jumpsuit is skating that fine line between high fashion and Vegas bachelorette. The “V” is cut practically to my navel. It takes nothing for him to slip a hand inside the scrap of stretchy fabric. I shiver, arching into his touch as he cups my bare breast.

“I want you so much,” he groans into my mouth, weighing my breast before he playfully pinches my nipple.

“Ahh—yes,” I hiss in reply. My pussy is screaming for some attention, and I press into him with my hips, feeling his hardness. Why did I wear a jumpsuit? He can’t give me what I need without undressing me, and there’s no way I’m stripping naked in this elevator.

Ding.

“Fuck—” He breaks our kiss, slipping his hand out of my top, and all but shoving himself away from me as he spins around. He drags that hand through his tousled hair as he practically stumbles over to the other side of the car. “Gotta press a floor,” he mutters.

Ahh, that’s the dinging. We’re just sitting here on the top floor of the hotel in an increasingly irritated elevator because we haven’t picked a floor.

“Seventeen,” I say.

He jabs the number with his thumb, turning around. The elevator immediately starts moving. He stays on the other side of the car, his eyes wide as he takes me in. His shoulders are heaving, and his lips are parted. The pro athlete is breathless. It’s doing amazing things for my confidence to know how I’m affecting him. I step forward and he flings up a hand. “No—wait.”

I blink, swallowing my nerves as I tentatively lick my lips. “Do you not—”

“Don’t even finish that sentence,” he growls. “You need to stay over there because, if you don’t, I’ll fuck you right here in this elevator and there’s no way in hell that’s happening. I’m taking my time with you.”

Dragon Rachel purrs inside her cage. This man is in so much trouble.

The elevator dings again at floor seventeen and the doors slide open behind him. He holds out his hand, putting his body between the doors. I click forward on my heels. He turns sideways, letting me exit.

He follows me like an eager puppy down the colorful hallway. One hand is on my waist as I lead the way towards my room. I stop us outside the door, digging in my clutch for the keycard.

He leans down, pressing hot kisses to my neck. His hand on my hip slinks higher until he’s brushing his thumb against my exposed side-boob—

Yeah…maybe this jumpsuit should be retired from public use.

He lets out a soft chuckle. “Room 1742?”

“Yep.” I tap the keycard against the reader and the door beeps as the light flashes green. I give the handle a tug, pushing it open. “Something funny about that room number?”

“Not funny,” he replies following me inside. “I think your thing about signs is rubbing off on me, that’s all.”

The door shuts behind us and he turns to lock it. I all but stumble into the room, kicking off my heels in the direction of the luggage rack.

It’s a gorgeous room. Daddy never does anything cheap. All the out-of-town wedding guests got upgraded rooms, with family and the groom parties getting suites. This is a corner room, with two walls of floor-to-ceiling windows showing off an amazing view of the downtown skyline and the Elliott Bay. It’s still daylight, but it’s Seattle. The sunshine barely lasted thirty minutes. The sky is overcast now, grey clouds sitting low. It’ll probably storm later tonight.