Confetti Hearts (Confetti Hitched, #1)(6)
Still, there’s something about Lachlan that makes me wary. Maybe it’s the strength of my attraction to him. Sex is usually just a fun release for me, and I’ve largely forgotten my partners by the time I exit the hotel room the next morning. But I bet this one would be hard to forget.
He runs one long finger over my hand, and I shudder. The nerve endings beneath his fingertip zip with attraction, racing through my veins, heading directly to my cock. His eyes narrow, but he stays seated, letting me make up my mind.
I smile at him. “Come on, then. I suppose it’s better that I accompany you and stop your headlong rush into a life of crime.”
He chuckles. “I must admit I can’t wait to hear more of your opinions on bankers.”
“Said no one ever.”
I start to stand up, but he puts a hand out to stop me. “Before we leave, I have to confess something to you.”
My heart stutters. Shit. Is he married? “Oh?” I say weakly.
He leans closer. “I’m not actually a banker.”
Relief rushes through me but I don’t show it. “Well, that’s rather disappointing. I happen to like the bad boys.”
“Oh, I never said I was good.” His expression turns wicked.
“I bet you’re not,” I say slowly. “So, if you don’t mind me asking—what do you actually do?”
“I’m a forensic accountant.”
“That sounds rather Patricia Cornwell.”
He chuckles, and it’s a warm, sexy sound. “Alas, not as exciting, but I do work with figures, which will hopefully tie in with your banker fetish.”
I give a dramatic sigh. “Well, the pickings are very slim tonight. I suppose I’ll have to work with what I’ve got.”
His eyes sparkle. “Thank you. You’re too kind.”
“That is a cross I have to bear, but you don’t want to hear about my travails.” I grin at him. “I do hope you have your own room. It’s no good looking to me to house you for the night. Newlyweds will spend five grand on a cake, but there’s no way they’d pay for a room for the wedding planner. I’m in a motel down the road.”
“I have a room at the hotel here.”
“Well, I hope it’s suitably luxurious. A boy has to have his standards.”
He laughs. “I have my very own bathroom.”
I drain my glass and stand up. “Sold. You coming?”
“Not yet.” He rises to stand, and I gulp because he’s much taller than me. He’s all grace and power. “But I’m very much hoping to.”
I shake my head and follow him out of the marquee. I’ve always been far too impulsive for my own good.
The lift has two women in it, so Lachlan and I stand side by side decorously. However, he’s still standing far too close, and one of the women darts a lightning glance at us, her eyes filled with curiosity. I shoot her a wink, and she grins. Then, looking up, I see Lachlan watching me. He’s unsmiling, but his eyes are full of heat and humour, which is an unbeatable combination in my book, and I move a little closer, feeling the heat of his big body through his suit.
The lift stops, and it seems to take ages for the women to leave, but finally, the doors slide shut, leaving us alone. I let out a startled ouf as Lachlan grabs me. Before I can say a word, he fits his mouth to mine with a groan, and I clutch him tightly. His lips are full and impossibly soft for such a harsh-looking man, and he tastes of the peaty whisky we were drinking together.
His hands seize my shoulders, and he slams me into the wall, his tongue tangling with mine. It’s like being snogged by a whirlwind, and my cock stiffens, pushing against his hard dick. He feels fucking huge as I grind against him.
The lift comes to a stop and Lachlan pulls back. His eyes are heavy-lidded and full of desire, his mouth full and red. “Let’s go,” he says hoarsely.
“You bet,” I say with far too much emphasis, and he gives a rough chuckle before tugging me out of the lift.
I fumble for my inhaler in my pocket, and he looks at me, concerned, as I take a puff. “You okay?”
“Of course.” I nod for emphasis. “I have more than enough breath to cope with anything you want to do to me.”
His lip twitches. “How can such an alarming statement be so erotic?”
I shrug. “It’s a talent of mine.”
He keeps my hand in his, holding on tightly as if he fears I’m going to run off. As we walk, I notice the striped pattern beneath our feet—it makes the whole corridor seem to undulate. “Jesus Christ, who designed the carpet in this hotel?”
“It’s hideous, isn’t it? I think it’s supposed to keep you awake and stop you from loitering.”
“It would be more effective to give you a line of coke.”
He laughs and comes to a stop outside a door. “This is me.”
He gropes in his pocket for his key, his other hand still in mine. I don’t think he’s keeping hold of me for romantic reasons—it’s more like he’s forgotten he’s doing it. My mouth goes dry as his trousers pull against his cock. He’s very hard, and he looks enormous.
The door opening distracts me, as does him pulling me inside without any ceremony and pinning me to the wall. He kisses me again, deep kisses, swapping spit and panting breaths, while our bodies grind together. It’s almost as intense as sex.