Without warning, he pulled me to the side and turned toward me. His hands slid down my back to the hollow above my butt. Pulling me in, he stared down at me with intense eyes. “Were you glad I left last night? Today, I mean. When you woke up this morning, did you think you’d dodged a bullet?”
I swallowed and tried to play it cool, but before I could stop them, the words tumbled out of my mouth. “I thought I made a boob of myself, but I wanted you last night. I wouldn’t have regretted my decision even though I would’ve been embarrassed by my behavior.”
“And if I don’t leave tonight?” he asked, so quietly I barely heard him. “What will tomorrow bring?”
“Morning sex?”
His face dipped, and his lips claimed mine. He didn’t nibble or play—he consumed, sucking in my focus. His fingers touched the side of my face as his tongue delved into my mouth. Heat raged through my body, blistering hot. My back hit the wall as he backed me up, his kiss deepening until the world dropped away. All I knew was his touch.
“What about room service?” he asked in a needy voice, his lips still touching mine.
“Yes,” I said, clutching his shirt.
“I want you so bad, Delilah. Ever since I first saw you. Will you come up to my room?”
I laughed. I couldn’t help it. “I’m on board to come in your room. Get it?”
The joke didn’t displace his serious expression. “I don’t want you to think this is a random hookup. It’s not.”
“You had me at ‘let’s fuck.’”
With a growl deep in his throat, he kissed me again, harder, full of longing. “I like when you talk dirty.” He bent and swooped me up into his arms. I barely kept from squealing and breaking everyone’s eardrums. I wasn’t used to the random carrying.
I ran my lips against his neck as he walked, not caring if anyone saw, tasting his wind-swept skin, salt and natural spice. He moaned softly, his hold not faltering even though he had quite a jaunt before he reached the right building. When he stopped for the elevator, I ran my hands up through his hair and then clutched and pulled, dragging his lips to mine.
Ding.
“You can put me down,” I whispered into his ear before I licked his earlobe.
“If I do, I won’t be able to keep my hands off you.”
“Like I said, you can put me down.”
My legs swung down quickly as he let go. I would’ve fallen on my butt, but he caught me and backed me against the elevator wall. “I love how adventurous you are. How far can I go?”
I closed my eyes as his scorching lips trailed across my jaw. “All the way.”
“In the elevator, I mean. How far?”
There was no one in there to clutch their pearls or shield their kids’ eyes. “As far as you want until we get caught.”
I felt his lips curl up into a smile. “Will you marry me?”
“I think I’d have to be pregnant for a shotgun wedding.”
“I’m game if you are.”
He was taking me out of the mood.
He must’ve felt it, because he immediately said, “I’m just kidding, Delilah.” He’d better be, or I’d have to throw ice down his pants.
All my thoughts and reservations fled as warm hands drifted up my outer thighs. I moaned softly and let my head fall back. They continued upward, under my skirt. Not fast enough. Without thinking, just needing, I clutched the back of his neck with one hand and his wrist with the other. I spread my legs and then moved his hand up until his fingers were brushing my apex.
“Oh yeah,” he said in a husky voice. “But seriously. Marry me.”
“I don’t want to marry you. I want to fuck you. How much further?”
He swore under his breath and I smiled. He did love naughty talk.
His fingertips brushed against the lace of my panties before dipping in. I moaned into his mouth as his fingertips slid across my wetness.
Ding.
Brad yanked his hands away and slapped them against walls of the elevator. Eyes half crazed, he leaned his forehead against mine as someone entered the confined space. “You’re going to be the death of me, Delilah.”
“Or the life.” I surged forward and nipped his chin.
With a hard exhale, he rolled to the side and pulled me with him, dragging me over his body. I felt his hardness against my lower back as his hands rested on my stomach. The other person in the elevator, a very nervous fifty-year-old man, jammed his finger into the button a few more times.
Another ding and the man exited in a rush.
“What floor?” I asked as I looked at the console. PH was lit. “Cripes. What kind of consulting do you do?”
“I’ve always wanted to have sex in an elevator,” Brad murmured. His hands ducked under my shirt and ran across my stomach. “But I’ve never met a woman who was confident enough to do it.”
“Confident? Nah. Just adventurous and overtly sexual.” I leaned my head back as my sex pounded.
“Are you describing yourself?”
“I’d definitely be up for it.” Was that husky voice mine?