His strong hands go around my waist, pulling me toward him, and as the car pulls away from the curb, I throw my arms around his neck, crushing my lips against his. He tastes like champagne and mint, and the spicy smell of him, expensive, light cologne, fills my lungs with every gasping breath.
One time, I promise myself. One time, I’ll let myself enjoy him, and I won’t get sucked into this, and I won’t fall in love. Not with Ace Kingsley, not with that wicked smile, not with the hard body I’m aching to touch. His unbelievable body is just a gateway to heartbreak, and I’m not going to invite any more of that into my life. Men like Ace—rich men who are used to getting what they want—they always stray.
None of it matters tonight, when his body is responding to mine, when he’s yanking me toward him like I can’t get close enough, when the back of his Bentley is hot, so damn hot. I don’t know how his driver is keeping his eyes on the road.
Ace pulls back, his eyes laser-focused on mine. “I want you. I’m going to have you.” The words spill out of him, rough and raspy, and the hair on the back of my neck rises, a tremble of desire shoots rockets through me.
I can’t find the words, so I push harder into him, throwing my legs on either side of his knees, straddling him, pressing the heat of my core to the hard steely length of his cock beneath his pants.
“Jesus,” he whispers, his hands gripping my waist.
“He has—” I suck in a breath. “He has nothing to do with this.”
Ace’s laugh is so sexy I almost split in two, and then his mouth is on my collarbone, and I am lost in the sensation of his lips on my skin, his teeth grazing my shoulder, the dominos are falling, it’s all over and I don’t want it to stop.
Chapter 8
Ace
Carolyn is burning me alive, and it feels like fucking heaven.
She’s so hot for me that the ride back to the Four Seasons is a haze of kissing, hard, then tender, then wild with the kind of sexual heat I haven’t felt since the last time—
No. Not now. Those thoughts can’t be here. Not now.
She doesn’t hesitate when I tell her I’m going to take her. She doesn’t shy away, just leaps onto me like a tigress. I’d fuck her right now if the driver was someone anonymous who wasn’t likely to give me shit for it later, but I restrain myself for Noah’s sake.
It’s a near thing.
By the time we spill out of the Bentley in front of the Four Seasons, my cock is raging against the confines of my boxers and pants. I’m nearly blind with need for her. If I’m not fucking her in the next five minutes….
The both of us can barely hold it together long enough to get across the lobby to the private elevator, and as soon as the door closes behind us she’s on me, ravenous, a living reflection of my need for her. She hardly seems to notice that we’re speeding toward the penthouse. She has the lapels of my suit jacket clenched in her fists and is pushing me back against the wall, standing on tiptoe to kiss me deep and long and hard.
I let her take control for as long as I can stand it, and then I flex my muscles, pushing away from the wall, pushing her back against the opposite wall, sliding my hand behind her head just before it makes contact.
She sucks in a sharp breath and her grip on my lapels tightens, but her body relaxes a little underneath my hands, ceding control.
It drives me fucking wild.
A woman who isn’t afraid to make the first move, but that tiny shift of her weight, the way she melts under my hands just slightly, tells me that she has a little bit of a submissive side. I’d bet all of my money right now that she’ll goddamn love being bent over my bed and fucked like—
The door slides open and I pull her out into the living room of the suite. Carolyn doesn’t pause for a second, not a single instant, to survey the space, like it’s not one of the city’s most opulent set of rooms. She’s not a wide-eyed small town girl, that’s for damn sure. Either that or, like me, she’s totally consumed by what’s happening between us right now, burning up in the flames and loving every moment of it.
I sweep her through the living room and into the master bedroom. When I bring us to a stop in front of the glittering canopy bed, her focus shifts to the buttons of my jacket.
Her hands tremble slightly but she doesn’t fumble with the buttons, undoing them one by one with slick efficiency, her eyes narrowed. As soon as the last one is free she slips her hands into the jacket and shoves it off my shoulders, leaving me to strip it off and drop it to the ground. By the time it falls to the floor she already has three buttons of my shirt undone, then yanks it out of my pants. I shrug it off and she goes for my belt.
I stop her, catching both of her wrists in one of my hands. “Not fair,” I growl, and her eyes widen a little. I smile at the pink in her cheeks, at her heaving breaths. “I’m half-naked, and you’ve still got an entire dress on.”
“Take it off.”