Page 23 of Aim Assist

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

This is 100%, without a doubt, 10/10 my best idea this year.

I suck in a sharp breath as I cuddle my hips a little closer against his. The way his breath draws in is everything.

"Sweetheart." The way the word rolls off his tongue sends shivers down my spine. His other hand comes up to cup my cheek, before sliding around to tangle into my hair.

Is he…?

Jesus Christ. This man's a fucking jackpot. There's nothing sexier than a man who dominates.

My lips part on a soft exhale as I stare at his lips. Yep. I want those. On me. Right now.

Preferably everywhere.

"Are you going to kiss me, or what?"

The words are barely out of my mouth before he swoops down, forcing my head up with the hand fisted in my hair.

Yes, yes, yes.

Fireworks.

Explosions.

Hell, it could be bombs. Everywhere.

The hotel could be on fucking fire, and I wouldn't want this to stop.

It's hot and hungry, and he's a gentleman gone wild. His lips claim mine, over and over, in searing kisses that have me melting into him. I fist my hands in his shirt, anchoring myself against him in a maelstrom of desire that slams all intellect straight into the closet and locks it away.

He tastes like darkness and desire beneath that fresh scent.

That pretty boy persona?

That cologne?

That gentlemanly vibe?

It's all a fucking lie. He's a pirate as he plunders every last thought out of my head. I can't get enough. A needy moan escapes me as his tongue sweeps against mine. He swallows the sound, his hand sliding into my hair to angle my head, deepening the kiss.

I'm lost.

I'm drowning.

I'm so fucking fucked.

His other hand slides from my back to my hips, his fingers digging in to shove me against him in an aggressive movement that has the hard length of him rubbing against me in ways that aren't even close to enough.

I'm going to die if he doesn't fuck me.

Right here.

In the hallway.

Where anyone can see us.

Shit.

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