The elevators doors opened, and he took the few steps toward my door before finally, slowly, lowering me back down to the ground.
“Ugh!” As soon as my feet hit the floor, I stepped back and glared at him. “How dare you manhandle me?”
He fixed his bright, Caribbean-blue eyes on mine and curved his lips. “I told you I was taking you upstairs. I didn’t tell you I was walking you up.”
“You’re an animal.”
“You weren’t coming up alone. I was raised a gentleman.”
That made me stop rummaging for my keys and raise my eyebrows in disbelief. “You take off your clothes for a living, and the first time we met, you flexed your cock against my face.”
He grabbed my waist for a second time tonight and spun me against my door. I dropped my purse in my shock, but I couldn’t reach for it because he’d cupped my chin and forced me to look at him.
“And the second time we met,” he said in a low voice, “you flexed my cock against the back of your throat. What point are you trying to make, angel?”
“That you’re no more a gentleman than I am a lady,” I shot back. “Now, let me go so I can go inside and consider how we continue this professional relationship.”
West searched my eyes for a long moment before dropping his hand. He took half a step back, and I went to reach for my purse, but he changed his mind.
He smoothly spun back to me, and no sooner had I met the flash of his blue eyes than he had his mouth on mine. I let out a quiet moan when he swept his tongue across the seam of my lips and wrapped one arm around my waist. He pulled our bodies together, my shoulders pressing into the door, and kissed me deeply.
My head swam. I couldn’t make head or tails of this, and although it was wrong, so wrong, I couldn’t stop.
The kiss was hot—oh god, so hot—and my whole body felt like it was on fire as I wound my fingers in the collar of his shirt and held him closer to me. His fingers twitched against my back as one of his hands slid down and cupped my ass. He squeezed, pulling my hips to his. His erection was obvious, pushing into me, and I whimpered into his mouth.
God, I wanted him.
He pulled away from me as abruptly as he’d kissed me, but he didn’t move. His mouth eased its way across my jaw to my ear, and his hot breath skittered across my skin when he paused there.
“I might call you angel, but I have a feeling you’re going to be my own personal sin, Mia O’Halloran.”
He kissed the tender spot just beneath my ear, making me shiver, and released me. I struggled to control my breathing as I watched him walk away toward the stairwell. He paused at the top, and I sank my teeth into my bottom lip.
He turned.
Dropped his gaze to my mouth.
Met my eyes.
Disappeared.
I sank back against my door. I could still feel his touch. His taste lingered on my lips, and although it wasn’t anything incredibly specific, he was there, teasing me without being near me. I brushed hair from my face, picked my purse up, and dug for my key. I found it and let myself into the dark apartment.
I locked the door behind me and walked to my bed. I’d barely undressed and retrieved my phone with its alarm before I buried myself beneath the sheets.
Shit.
“Thank you.” I handed the wallet with my bill and my credit card to the young girl who’d served me my brunch and then turned to look out the window. There was nothing spectacular about this view. I’d checked Google Maps and plugged this address into my rental car’s GPS before leaving.
I’d wanted to go somewhere quiet, a little off the beaten track, and this adorable, little twenty-four-hour pancake café had done the job. The stack of pancakes I’d ordered had hit the hunger spot, and I’d been able to pull some things together for West.
I’d actually managed to keep him off my mind for a little while too. Not long, granted, but focusing on the marketing for his club as opposed to his mouth on mine had done me some good. I’d tried to call Allie, but she was already working. Lucie was visiting her parents, and if I called Jaz before noon on her day off, I’d be cursed out of the country.
This had been the best choice in hindsight, even if I was now back to thinking about last night. And not just the kiss—all of it.
He’d said that he didn’t have fun much. That was kind of sad. I was a serious person, but even I made enough time to have fun, whether it was vegging out in front of the TV with takeout or hitting a bar with the girls. I wondered if West Rykman was the kind of man who worked, worked, worked, and that was it.
I was wondering about him again.
Did he have family nearby? What did he do when he wasn’t working? How old was he? How had he come to get a strip club? What other businesses did he own in Las Vegas? Just clubs, or restaurants too? Maybe a regular bar or two? A casino?
I had no place wondering it, but my curious personality demanded I did. Then again, my curious personality was also the reason for fifty million heartbreaks in my life, so what did it know?