Page 14 of After-Party Consequences

She placed eager kisses across his jaw, his chin, his cheek as he marched to the elevator and stabbed the call button with his elbow. The doors opened immediately, but it seemed to take another eternity of torture to finally arrive at his penthouse.

She was still wrapped around him as he walked into the foyer and through into the main living area. The glass walls of the corner penthouse gave him a staggering view of the Bay Bridge and the sprinkle of Oakland’s nightlights in the distance, but it wasn’t the view which made his breath hitch when he set her on her feet.

She choked out a stuttered sob as he dragged his hands up her thighs under the short mini dress to fill his palms with her soft, responsive and—what the hell?—naked butt.

A thong! Lord, help me.

‘Were you wearing this the whole time we were dancing?’ he accused her, the knife edge becoming painful.

She nodded. ‘I love thongs. They’re so comfortable.’

He groaned. ‘You could have flashed the whole party every time I sent you into a spin...’

‘And your point would be...?’ She chuckled, giving him a tantalising glimpse of the reckless kid who had once danced on a table.

He laughed too. So the reckless kid wasn’t dead and gone—but her bad girl energy was so much more intoxicating now.

Her fingernails rasped across his nape—and sensation arrowed into his groin.

‘I think I should punish you,’ he murmured, holding her hips. ‘For risking getting us both arrested.’

‘I agree,’ she teased with a throaty purr.

He was still chuckling as he buried his face in her neck to lick the pummelling pulse in her collarbone, while massaging her bare butt and riding his thumb under the string. She shifted, cradling the ridge of his erection against her belly.

He sucked in the musty aroma of her arousal, but then she stiffened.

He pulled back, and saw both giddy need and wary tension in her lust-blown pupils. Small white teeth dug into her bottom lip, making him aware of the reddened skin around her mouth, and on her neck, where he’d given her beard burn.

Slow down, man.

‘Hey, are you still with me?’ he asked, resting his hand on her neck to stroke the delicate skin with his thumb.

‘Yes, yes, of course,’ she said too swiftly, as if she was trying to convince herself as well as him. ‘I want this,’ she added, but she sounded less sure than she had when they’d been devouring each other in the elevator.

He forced himself to loosen his hold a little.

‘There’s no rush, Charlotte. We can take as long as you need. Tell me where you like to be touched?’ he asked, determined to take this at her pace.

She blinked, her eyes dark with arousal, but also wary. Emotion tugged hard under his breastbone.

‘Honestly, I’m not sure,’ she said. ‘No one’s ever asked me that before.’

The forthright response was both adorable and kind of sad. He’d bet good money she had lost her virginity long before she’d met him four years ago, but the puzzled frown on her face made her seem like an artless girl—learning about her own desire for the first time.

Right about now, he wanted to murder every guy who had taken from her and given so little back. But the weight of responsibility was also a novel feeling. Could he be the one to show her she had always deserved so much more?

Aware of her nipples standing out like bullet points against the bronze silk, he thumbed one rigid peak. She jolted, her eyes widening.

‘How do you like to touch yourself?’ he asked, his throat raw as he continued to caress her lazily, not wanting to lose the connection, but careful not to push. ‘Can you show me?’

Her pale skin darkened. ‘I like what you’re doing right now...’ she managed. ‘But I think it would feel even better if I was naked.’

He let out a strained laugh, the bold comment crucifying him a little.

‘Then let’s remedy that,’ he said.

Gripping the hem of her dress, he drew it gently over her head and threw it away. She quivered, her small, firm breasts barely disguised by red lace.

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