Roman Chen leans against the back mirrored wall, his hands resting on either side of his hips on the safety bar, his fingers tapping against the metal. A midnight black suit conforms to his body in a perfectly tailored fit, showcasing the muscles he hides under his usual jackets. A slim blue tie matching the color of my dress rests against his chest. His feet are crossed at the ankle, and his normally mussed hair is brushed back with a thick lock that drops onto his forehead in a Johnny Depp sort of way.
He’s never looked more like a God than in this moment, and I think Hades himself would relinquish the throne if Roman looked at him with the same dark gaze he’s currently setting my skin on fire with.
My entire body tingles as I step into the cabin, holding my breath in an attempt to hinder the intoxicating scent of his Chanel Blue. But it’s too late. It seeps into my very pores and makes me lightheaded.
His eyes follow a trail down my dress, and I don’t miss the way his pupils dilate, even though his blinks are low and lazy, feigning nonchalance.
“Miss Cartier.” His voice drops a heavy weight into my core, and I find myself both hating and loving it at the same time.
Why isn’t he getting out?
“Mr. Chen,” I reply, pressing a finger on the door open button.
“That won’t be necessary. I’m headed to thirteen.”
Releasing my hand, I drop it to my side. “Then why did you pass it?”
“To make sure you had gotten ready. We both know you get distracted.”
Ignoring his comment, I move to the next very obvious issue with us both occupying the small space. “Okay, but you never share a ride with anyone.”
Roman huffs out a large sigh and kicks himself off the wall. He takes two large steps toward me, eliminating the space between us in a second and sucking every last particle of air from the elevator in the process.
His head drops near my ear, his warm, minty breath coasting along my neck and sprouting goosebumps down my covered arms. “Is there an issue with me taking a short elevator ride with my personal assistant?”
My center tenses, and the heaviness moves lower, making my clit pulse. Words completely lost, I shake my head.
Even though I can’t see him, I swear I can feel him smirk as he taps the button for the thirteenth floor.
When he backs away, he takes his warmth with him, and I resent the shiver that travels down my spine. I shouldn’t want him so damn close to me.
We wait in awkward silence before the doors slide together, enclosing us in a space where his relentless winds have no one to destroy but me. But even knowing that, I gather up the courage to ask what I really want to know.
“Why did you buy me this dress?”
“Because I knew you didn’t have time to go get one, and I wanted you to look presentable.” He says it so matter-of-fact. Almost as if it should have been obvious.
Annoyance works through the fading arousal. “And when, Mr. Chen, have I not looked presentable?”
His eyes flash to me but before he looks down to fiddle with his stupid watch, I see the hint of amusement in them. He thinks this is funny?
Maybe it’s the knowledge I won’t be working for him forever, or the fact that today has been taxing enough and I’d much rather be at home than be subjected to this, but my moxie triples.
Before I can rationalize what I’m doing, I smash my hand over the stop button, halting the elevator.
“Always so dramatic,” he muses, readjusting the cuffs of his jacket.
“I’d like an answer, sir .” My hands circle around my waist as I raise a brow. But when his gaze flits to where my hands are, I suddenly feel naked and clear my throat while shifting my weight on my heels.
He must sense my discomfort and tilts his head, letting his eyes rove back to my now flushed face. “You always look presentable, Presley.”
The sudden use of my first name catches me off guard, but I somehow manage to brush the odd sensation it gives me to the side. “So why did you get me this dress?”
Roman leans back, a smugness curling the corner of his lips. “Would you like the truth?”
This gives me pause. Why would I not?
The memory of him asking me to remember the number six flashes through my mind. Does this have something to do with that?
“Yes.” I hate how weak my voice sounds. “The truth, please.”
He returns to the space in front of me, soaking up the air and making it hard for me to focus. When I don’t immediately look up, he hooks his index finger under my chin and lifts. It’s soft, yet forceful, leaving me no room to move against it.
My breath comes quicker as our gazes meet, and I’m ninety percent sure my body is about to combust at any second from how strongly my nerves are vibrating.
“I purchased this dress for you because I knew how it would look on you.” He pauses, lowering his hand to lightly grip around my neck. “And I knew how it would look when thrown on the floor.”
And then his mouth crashes against mine.
I knew the moment I saw Presley in that dress we would end up here, with her sweet mouth attached to mine, and me, completely devouring her. She tastes how she looks—vibrant and full of that sass she constantly throws at me.
Already, I’m fucking addicted.
My hand tightens around her throat, drawing her closer until her breasts are pressed against my chest. She’s so goddamn soft, she molds to my body, even fully clothed.
But the sexiest thing? She doesn’t put up an ounce of fight. Instead, her hands tangle in my hair, and the slight burn of her nails scratching through my scalp to grip me closer radiates down my spine.
We press harder together, all the pent-up frustration spilling over into kissing each other breathless. But when she moans into my mouth, my blood soars, racing through my ears until I can only hear my thumping pulse. It matches hers beating against my chest.
I let my hand slip to her covered collarbone, and I force her back to arch as the safety bar presses into her spine. She breaks the kiss in a sharp breath, but the motion ignites a foreign irritation in my chest and I bite into her swollen bottom lip to bring her back.
I want her lips to stay on me. Need them to.
Grabbing one of her thighs, I only barely lift before she drops one hand to my shoulder and uses it for balance to curl her leg around my waist. And it’s then I allow my tongue to slide out and swipe along the seam of her mouth.
She opens immediately.
Her warm tongue slips out and dances with mine in what feels like a never-ending tango. The more I give, the more she takes. The harder I move against her, the more frantic she becomes. Like she can’t get enough.
Hmm ... It will be fun taking away her control later.
I break from her mouth and trail languid licks and kisses down her jaw, ignoring her groans of objections. My lips graze along what little flesh they can get to until reaching the patch of skin just beneath her ear. Her frustrated grunts turn into open mouthed moans, the beautiful sound singing praises to my libido and pushing me farther.
I nibble at the flesh, reveling in how her body interchanges between heady whines and tense muscles to greedy grabs.
Presley lifts her other leg, joining it with the one wrapped tightly around my waist. Her dress parts perfectly, falling to the side and pressing her silk covered cunt directly over my erection.
She uses the safety bar as leverage, one hand holding tightly so she can tilt her hips for more friction.