Manaconda (Hammered #1)(35)

She rolled onto her side.

I laughed. I was learning that Kenny liked her sleep.

I leaned down, following my first instinct and bit her cheek. She moaned and pushed my face away.

“Broken. Sleeping,” she mumbled into her pillow. “I don’t care about seven anymore. Tired.”

I laughed harder. “Wakey, wakey.”

“Fuck off.”

My eyebrows shot up. Yeah, definitely liked her sleep. I rolled her over, but couldn’t quite ignore her petal pink nipple. Just as shade darker than her skin, the same color as her lips, and her perfect *.

I swirled my tongue around the tip until it tightened. “It’s morning,” I said against her skin.

She moaned, and slid her fingers up my neck, frowning when she got to the band of my hat. She peered around me. “5:47?” She met my gaze. “Really?”

“I want some time with you before the world wakes up.”

She put my hand on her boob. “Time away—right here.”

I shook my head. “Outside.”

“Nooo. Here.” Her nipple burned into my palm and I couldn’t help but cup it just the way she liked. I expected the need for gentle—hell, I wanted to give her gentle, but she ignited under a rougher touch.

I lowered to her breast again, sucking the tip until her skin went rosy and hot before I released it with a pop.

Her eyes closed with a blissful moan. “See. Much better than out there. Warmer. More naked.” She slipped her hand into my shorts and curled around me unerringly. Already half-hard, it didn’t take much more than a stroke.

She twisted around my head with just the right amount pressure, and I wavered. I could probably play over-achiever and give her eleven orgasms before we needed to check out. Hell, I could take over the suite for a week and never tire of her.

But exhaustion plucked at my edges. If I passed out—even for a quick restorative nap—she’d disappear on me. I knew it deep in my bones.

I pulled her hand out of my shorts, and dragged her up and off the bed. She stuck out her lower lip. “Sadist.”

“It’ll be an adventure.”

“The last time you told me that I was trapped in a truck.”

“And we had fun.”

She pushed her hair out of her face with a snort. Her gaze drifted to the end of the bed. “Oh, so now I get them back?”

I shrugged. “Knowing you, they are part of a set.”

“Did I mention I hate you?”

I laughed. “A time or two.”

“Hmm.” She took her panties and my shirt, and turned away with a small huff. On her way to the bathroom, she snatched her wallet off the chaise. “There better be a toothbrush in this palatial bathroom,” she said and shut the door.

I dug out my phone to make sure there wasn’t anything pressing. My calendar was full of interviews and a few radio spots in the afternoon, but the morning blissfully empty.

Indie was no dummy. She knew the hangovers would be epic today. Mine was a sex hangover, one that I never wanted a cure for.

The door opened a few minutes later, and she peeked out. My shirt hit her knees, and she’d cinched it at her waist with something magical she’d probably found in her mini-purse. Her hair was piled up on the top of her head in a messy knot, the last of her makeup washed away.

She looked unbelievably young.

I crossed the room to her, dragging her out. “I think my shirt is longer than your dress last night.”

“Because you’re freakishly large.”

“No, that’s Wyatt.”

“Yeah, well…close enough.” She smoothed her hand down the line of buttons. Her nipples were still hard, pushing at the linen material. “Where are you taking me?”

“Rooftop.”

“Humans go there you know. I hear there’s a crazy breakfast served and everything.”

“There’s a separate dining area.”

One eyebrow arched. “Done this before?”

My gut twisted. I had. Thanks to Tristan, I’d spent quite a bit of time at this particular hotel. Some with female companionship, some because of late night cooking lessons and three too many craft beers to drive myself home.

She held up her hand. “Never mind. Forget I mentioned it.” Her face brightened into the PR smile.

I hated that smile. I wanted the smirky one back. It was my own fault for tripping up, but I didn’t want to lie. I wasn’t an innocent by any stretch of the imagination, but that made this far more important. I knew this was different.

I’d succumbed to infatuation, lust, and fought my way free of undeserving devotion. My field of play was extensive. Being thirty-two—and living in LA for the last ten of them— was like living two lifetimes.

I knew there was something special between us, knew it as surely as a lyric that belonged in a song. But as with all good songs, I needed time to figure out the melody and chords.

I was learning her chords, but the rest of her was still a puzzle I had to figure out. And I couldn’t do it if she pushed me out of her life.

“Just give me the morning.”

Her eyes softened. “Some of us can’t play hooky. I have to get back to my apartment to get ready. I have clients.”

“An hour.”

She stepped into her heels. “All right. But I’m keeping this shirt.”