I licked my dry lips. “Because you feel bad? Or because you want me?”
Instead of answering, he turned to the control box and hit the switch to put the car back in motion. Then he came to me and took my hand. He pulled me to my feet, and I didn’t even have time to think before his mouth closed gently over mine. The kiss was soft and I thought I might melt simply from the sweetness of it.
When he pulled back, his eyes were warm. “Because I want you.”
I nodded, breathless, my lips still tingling. “You didn’t make me beg for a kiss.”
The corner of his eyes crinkled. “I’ll beg if you don’t kiss me again.”
“Tempting,” I said. “But I’ll be kind.” I rose onto my tiptoes and brushed a chaste kiss over the corner of his mouth.
He laughed. “Fuck that,” he said, then gripped my shoulders and pressed me back against the wall. I gasped, not expecting the motion, and he closed his mouth brutally over mine. Gone was the sweetness of that first kiss. This was hard and wild and demanding. Teeth and tongue and the violence of possession, the cacophony of passion. Relief swept through me even as wild thoughts clanged about in my head, unable to form into anything more coherent than a vague plea of more, more, oh yes, more.
We broke apart when the doors opened, and Tyler took my hand, then drew me down the hall to another elevator, this one with a plain metal interior, covered on two sides with moving blankets.
“It will take us to the service entrance,” he said, and I nodded.
I felt giddy. Light. A small part of me tried to argue that my giddiness was because my operation was back on track, but that was bullshit. This was all about me. About the way he’d made my body tingle and thrum. About the heat he’d sent coursing through me and the way he’d pushed my boundaries. Even to the point of breaking.
He’d made me feel things I had never experienced, and for better or worse, I wanted to walk with him to that precipice. I wouldn’t go over with him—how the hell could I ever trust a man like Tyler Sharp that intimately?—but I could damn sure enjoy the ride.
I had no idea where this was going, but for this night, I was his. Tomorrow, I would think about the job.
We were back in the penthouse, moving through the hallway by his office to the living room. Neither of us spoke, and though the silence was a comfortable one, I couldn’t deny the flutter of nerves in my stomach. I knew he wouldn’t bind me—but beyond that, I didn’t have a clue.
“Tyler?” I began, when I couldn’t take it anymore.
We’d reached the living room, and he paused near the huge window that looked out over Michigan Avenue. “Yes?”
“What are you going to do with me?”
His lips twitched. “Nervous?”
“And excited.”
“I like your honesty, so I’ll tell you that I’m planning something we’re both going to enjoy.” He moved to stand behind me, then pushed me gently forward so that I was closer to the window, and I could see both our reflections in the glass. “I’m going to fuck you, Sloane. Very hard, and very thoroughly.” His eyes met mine in the glass. “If that’s all right with you?”
“Yeah,” I said breathlessly. “Yeah, I think that’ll be just fine.” I swallowed, kept my eyes on his. “Is that all?”
He laughed, and the sound made my smile bloom wide.
“No,” he said. “No, it’s not.”
I waited for him to say more, and when he didn’t, I frowned. I saw my own brow furrowed in the reflection, and saw his expression grow more amused in turn.