The next thing I know, his hard body is pressing into mine, backing me up. I have no other choice but to go where he wants, and I end up against the wall of the elevator.
I try to steel myself against the mouthwatering scent of him and the erection I can feel pressed into my stomach. But my body is in control, and my body loves Tom Carter.
Desire explodes in my belly and trembles its way through me.
Tom’s hands come up to either side of my head, caging me in.
His lips hover over mine. His eyes darken, becoming pools of lust.
Holy fuck.
“You get off on your floor, and you and me are gonna have an even bigger problem than we already have.” He licks his lips.
I’m distracted by the sight. It only serves to increase the pressure I feel between my thighs.
“We need to talk, and going by our track record, it might get…loud.” His eyes flash another meaning, sending a shiver to race through my body. “Your room is next to Cale’s, but mine is the only one up there, so no one will hear us.”
He moves away from me with that damn smirk on his face. He leans back against the wall across from me, and he folds his arms over his chest, showing off those amazing biceps of his.
“Besides, I have something for you in my room.”
Lifting my eyebrow, I flick my eyes to the very visible erection in his jeans.
Tom lets out a sexy laugh. “Not that—well, not right off the bat.”
Ignoring the lusty tingles I’m feeling, I flip him off.
He laughs again, louder this time. I look to my feet to hide the smile forcing its way onto my lips.
I hate the way he can get to me like this.
It’s not long before the elevator comes to a stop at my floor. I watch the doors open, considering my options.
Tom is stubborn, and I want to get some things off my chest with him, so I swallow my pride and let the doors close. I’m expecting a smart retort from him, but nothing comes.
When I look at him, he’s smiling softly at me.
It causes my heart to squeeze.
Soon enough, the doors are opening on the twenty-third floor. I follow Tom down the hall. He stops outside a door marked Presidential Suite.
Of course he’s staying in the best suite at the hotel.
He slides the key card in and opens the door. “After you.”
I’m surprised at his gentlemanly way, but I don’t let it show. I walk past him and into his suite. It’s gorgeous, and the views of the city are breathtaking.
“You want something to drink?” he asks.
Stealing the view from my eyes, I drop my purse onto the coffee table and turn to find Tom already at the minibar. Knowing how extortionately priced minibar drinks are and how mad I am with Tom right now, I decide to order the priciest thing in there.
I move in beside him, leaving a safe gap between us. I lean down and peer into the fridge. I run my eyes over the price list. Great. The most expensive thing is a miniature bottle of Thomas Segal whiskey.
I don’t like whiskey, but I still say, “I’ll have the Segal and a carton of pistachios.”
I’ll force the effing drink down and cover the taste with the nuts.
Yes, I’m that petty.
Tom’s body stiffens beside me. “No. I’ll buy you anything you want out of here but not that.”
“The nuts?” I frown.
“No. Segal. I won’t buy you that.”
I tilt my head around, so I can see his face. “Seriously? After the shit you pulled tonight, you’re denying me a drink?”
“I’m not denying you anything. I just won’t buy you that.” His voice is stony.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” I yell. Apparently, I’m still in the mood to fight with him. My claws are out and raring to go.
“Lyla,” he says my name like a plea, his fingers holding the bridge of his nose. “Just drop it, please. I’ll buy you anything you want but not that.” His voice sounds different and weird.
He looks at me. His eyes are pleading. He looks sad. All the anger in me dissipates.
I don’t get why buying me that drink makes him sad.
Curiosity aside, I don’t push, but decide to drop it. “Actually, I could do with a clear head. I’ll just have a Diet Coke.”
His body relaxes. I walk away from him, but I hear him sigh softly, leaving me even more confused as to just exactly what that was.
I sit down on the sofa and gaze out at the twinkling lights of the city around us.
Tom brings over two cans of Coke and a container of pistachios for me. He puts them on the table and takes the seat beside me.
I lean forward, pop open my can, and take a drink. My throat is a little dry from all the yelling at Tom tonight. In this moment, it occurs to me that I’ve never yelled at someone as much as I do with Tom. No one has ever gotten under my skin like he does—sexually or angrily. And I don’t really quite know what it means.
Putting the can down, I twist in my seat to look at him. “So, are you gonna explain the caveman behavior?”
He turns to face me, bringing his leg up onto the sofa, which presses it nicely up against my thigh. Every particle in my body hones in on the one part of me that his body is touching.
“I’m not sorry.”