He gives me one quick flash of a grin before heading toward the bathroom, giving me a view of his ass, hamstrings, and back. I have no shame in staring at and appreciating it.
When the sound of the water echoes out of the bathroom, I shimmy out of my jeans in record time and thank fate that I wore some lacy boyshort panties instead of the thong I originally grabbed.
That decision just made my life a whole lot easier.
Or at least I think it did until I enter the bathroom to find him standing to the side of the massive tub, bubbles starting to form in the water, and the lights of the sleeping city twinkling outside the wall of windows the bathtub is positioned in front of.
Hunter glances up, and I’m not going to lie when I say it gives me the slightest thrill to see the hitch in his motion when he sees me standing there in my bra and panties.
“No funny stuff,” I warn as I head toward the tub.
“No worries, Kincade,” he says, but I don’t believe him. “I’m well aware you’re on the straight and narrow.”
“I have to be. It’s my business.”
“What is?” He takes a step toward me. “You being here in my bathroom is business?” He gives a frustrated shake of his head. “It’s always business with you. Every time. It used to not be that way. You used to take every ounce of that pent-up perfect professionalism you wear like a shield of armor and destroy me in bed with it until we were spent. Until we were satisfied. Every damn time. You used to like to walk on the wild side with me. You used to—”
“Not anymore.” I shift my feet, needing to stop his words, the memories I can all but taste, and the poignant ache they create. “I have too much at stake now.”
“And what exactly do you have that’s at stake?” he asks as we stand a few feet apart, eyes warring and bodies wanting.
Too many things.
Way too many things.
My company.
My heart.
My dignity.
He takes a step closer and dips so we’re eye to eye. “What is it, Dekk? What happened to change you? What is it that dimmed your fire?”
You.
The answer pops in my head without any hesitation, and I stagger because how can I say that? How can I think he’s the reason I’ve become cautious when before I would have jumped in with both feet with him without a thought?
“My fire’s still there.” I offer a smile that I don’t think he believes.
“Prove it,” he breathes, as he closes the remaining distance between us. It feels like it’s in slow motion as he reaches out to brush an errant strand of hair off my cheek, and I almost let myself sink into him.
“Whatever,” I say as an out and stride past him toward the tub, simply to avoid his touch, and the dare I can already see him trying to set me up with. Nerves dance beneath the surface as I stare at the world beyond but somehow end up meeting his eyes in our reflection in the glass.
It hits me how much I’m flirting with danger.
In my standing with my clients.
In the reality of my life.
In what the hell I’m doing here in my bra and underwear in Hunter’s room, when I know even if we did do something, he’d wake up in the morning without anything changed when everything would have for me.
He turns the water off but his chuckle at my lack of answer snaps me to the here and now. To the want and the need sparring against the reason and sanity.
I take an even breath and turn to face him and his inflammatory comment.
Walk away and make a stand, Dekk, or stay here and know what’s going to happen.
His hand is on the nape of my neck in an instant and pulls me to him so his mouth meets mine the same time our bodies slam into each other’s.
And every damn thing I felt in the park is magnified times a million.
Where the gentleness of the park confused me, the violent desire of right now is the Hunter Maddox I remember.
This is the one I can feed off.
This is the one that’s purely sex, only need, and completely animalistic.
One hand holds my neck hostage to allow his lips to take what they want, while his other fists in the back of my panties and twists tightly so the fabric cuts against my skin.
Push him away.
He tugs on my bottom lip with his teeth.
Tell him no.
The hardness of his erection grinds against me.
Oh my God.
The firmness of his chest beneath my palms.
I missed this.
The hunger in his every action.
I missed him.
His breath is ragged when he rips his lips from mine, eyes blazing into mine, as we stare at each other, hands still owning the other’s body in some way or another.
“Goddammit, Dekk,” he groans. “Don’t fucking toy with me. Tell me you want this. Tell me you need this as much as I do.”
His voice sounds like how I feel—desperate, needy, ready to detonate.
The knowledge that I can break the control of a man like him, is beyond explanation. I want him. How he sates all desires. How he devastates all reason.
Him.
More of him.
Now is the time to feel every ounce, every inch, everything, he’s willing to give me.
Chills chase up my spine as I stare at him and anticipate and debate and throw caution to the wind.
Who cares about hot chocolate and grilled cheese now?
It’s my lips that meet his this time. It’s my teeth that nip the tattoo on his shoulder. It’s my fingernails that score their way down the side of his torso. It’s my hand that slides inside the waistband of his boxer briefs and encircles his rock-hard cock. It’s his body that tenses beneath my touch.
There’s intensity to our actions, an urgency. A need to hurry up to the endgame and slow down at the same time.
I ache and burn and yearn every place Hunter’s hands touch and his stubble scrapes.
We are a mass of hands and lips and grinds as we stumble the few steps to the bed. His underwear comes off as we walk. His fingers unclasp my bra as I shove down my panties.
I lied the other night.
I don’t care about finesse when it comes to Hunter. I care about his hands gripping, his hips thrusting, his teeth nipping, his cock sliding.
My body vibrates as his hands take and claim and knead my breasts, my hips, my ass.
“Dekker,” he groans, his lips against my breast, my skin vibrating under the strain of how he says my name. His hand fists in my hair, and he pulls my head back so I’m forced to look in his eyes as he stands back to full height.
My body is raw and wanting, and the seconds we waste as he stares at me, as his eyes wander up and down every inch of my body, has me itching to reach out and take what I want.
I open my lips, swollen from his, to speak, to tell him to destroy me in the most delicious of ways, but there’s something in his look that tells me he needs this as much as I do . . . but for such very different reasons.
“Turn around,” he orders and I obey, anticipation held with bated breath.
He puts a hand on my waist as he pulls me back against him, my ass meeting his thighs, the firmness of his dick undeniable against my lower back. He moves the hair off my neck with his free hand and his teeth scrape over the skin there as his other moves between my thighs.
“Fuck, Dekk. You . . .” He kisses the juncture of my shoulder to my neck. “This.” His fingers slide between my thighs as one of his feet knock mine wider. “I’m going to fuck this sweet pussy of yours.” He parts me, and his groan when he finds me wet for him has my nipples hardening. “With my fingers.” He tucks them into me and my body convulses in reaction, anticipation for the next touch already building. “With my tongue.” He slides his tongue up to my ear and dips inside, the combination of his coarse stubble and warm tongue making me gasp. “With my cock.” He uses his hand to slide it between the cheeks of my ass and I tighten around his fingers in response.