Manaconda (Hammered #1)(32)

They were too into each other to notice us. Smoke practically rolled off of them in waves. The guy’s fingers kept disappearing up the side of her shirt. A sultry laugh invited him closer.

Was that what we looked like?

I bumped into Hunter, swallowing a groan when my ass brushed against his erection. He slid a hand along my hip, drawing me closer.

“I can’t wait to get inside you.”

A flush race up my neck to my cheeks. I looked over to our neighbors.

“They don’t even know we’re here. He wants the same thing.” Hunter dragged his knuckle up the curve of my spine. “He can barely stand the thought of not touching her. Any bit of skin is fair game.”

I swallowed a groan.

Two could play this game. I reached back to find the ridge of his shaft. I teased the outline with my nail. The rumble of his chest vibrated through my back. He caught my hand, pressing it tighter to him with a soft moan.

The line of his cock seemed to go on forever.

Photoshopped my ass.

I was actually a little intimidated. It had been a good long time since I’d had sex with anyone, let alone someone that was able to pull of a moniker like manaconda.

The elevator dinged. We broke apart. The girl gave another sinful laugh and pulled her guy out of the car. When the doors shut again, I turned in Hunter’s arms.

“Cameras,” he whispered against my mouth.

Frustration soared. Cameras everywhere. Fans, record executives, managers, bandmates—the list was endless. Would we ever be alone?

Finally, the doors slid open. The corridor blissfully empty. I took his hand, dragging him along behind me for once. “What room?”

“Eight-thirty-seven.”

A suite.

My skin bloomed with goose bumps.

Space to spread out. Extra walls for privacy. The door came into view, a keycard slapped against the sensor, then he was shoving me through the door. I pushed at his shirt as he flicked on lights. Muscles rippled under my fingertips. He was smooth save for a line of hair above his buckle.

A necklace was hidden under his shirt. I’d seen it before.

Rosary.

Not a necklace.

The warm wood beads snaked over my forearm. He reached behind his neck to help me drag his shirt over his head. Broad-chested and tapered at the waist, he was gloriously cut.

I went right for his buckle, jerking at the tail to free it from his jeans. I pushed him into the chaise by the window. “This chair?”

“What?”

“Is this the chair you were talking about?”

He swallowed so hard that his Adam’s apple bounced. “Yes.”

I bunched my skirt up to crawl on top of him.

“Off.”

I stepped back, my stomach fluttering at the way his jaw tightened.

“Off?”

“The dress. I want you naked.”

I spun on my heel slowly, lifting my arm up. “Well, then unzip me.”

He trailed his fingers along my arm to the side of my breast. The tiny tab of the zipper was dwarfed by his thick fingers. I swallowed. The memory of them inside me made my * pound.

That was nothing compared to his cock.

My gaze dropped to his jeans. His buckle was undone, but everything else was frustratingly buttoned-up. One zipper and I’d be on display.

But I couldn’t deny him.

Not when his gaze was hot enough to flay my skin. The rosary slid until the walnut carved cross rested between his pecs. Would he take it off? Or would it swing between us as he thrust inside me?

I wasn’t sure which I could handle.

Was it bad that I wanted both?

I hissed as my dress parted, dragging my attention back to the present, away from the nebulous future. Always planning, working the angles. I needed to stay in the moment. I wasn’t sure how long it would last.

I dropped my arms. The straps slid down, and the hideously expensive dress of multi-colored beads whispered off my hips to the floor.

Responsible Kennedy would have been rushing for a garment bag or closet to hang it in.

The new me—the reckless me, right now— stepped free of the dress and let the cool air kiss my skin from shoulder to ankles. No bra. The dress plunged in front and back, rendering one a useless commodity.

“Jesus, you’re beautiful.”

I turned to face him. My remaining nerves fell away with those simple words. The way he looked at me left no doubts. For this moment, I could be the woman I’d always wanted to be.

Capable I had down to a science. Sexy, unforgettable, wanted—those were new.

I knelt between his spread legs. My wristlet brushed the side of my hand, discarded on the edge of the chaise. I flicked it open and dug out the one condom I’d allowed myself.

“You’ve had that the entire time?”

I nodded.

“Man,” he groaned.

I laughed. “All you had to do was ask.”

He flipped open the top button of his jeans. “Blue balls are a real thing, you know.”

“I don’t want to hear anything, pal. I offered to relieve that particular problem.”

“I remember.” So fierce. His stormy eyes were so focused. My wine buzz had faded and there was nothing but clarity.

Tonight was supposed to be about that one shot—the one man who could lure me away from every plan I’d ever had for myself.