Page 15 of Hot Shot

“Admit it,” I murmur against her temple.

“No. I hate you.”

“I get that. But you still want me.” I brush my lips over her temple. “And I want you.”

Her body melts into me minutely. Satisfaction sizzles through my veins. “I can’t want you.”

“Listen. It’s okay. You’re leaving soon anyway, right?”

She swallows. “Right.”

“So what’s the risk? We have a hot little romp for a few weeks while I teach you Spanish and we throw an engagement party, and then you leave for Spain and we say goodbye and everyone’s happy.”

I feel her sigh against my throat. “Marco.”

“That’s my name.”

“I’m not sleeping with you tonight.”

“Damn.”

Her lips twitch.

“Okay,” I agree. “Not tonight.” I shift us out of the way of a drunken couple staggering off the dance floor. I sense she’s taken aback by my capitulation. “But you didn’t say not ever.”

“Oh my God.”

I bend my head, nuzzle her hair, and find her mouth with mine.

My feet stop moving. The rest of the club blacks out as her lips cling to mine, so soft, so sweet. Jesus. A fireball slams into my gut and heat spreads through my body. A raw, primal urge to sweep her up and carry her out of here roars through me. I don’t pick her up, but I can’t stop my arms from wrapping around her, one hand sliding up into her hair, the other on her ass pressing her against my swelling dick.

She makes a small noise in her throat that sounds like need and I open my mouth on hers, deepening the kiss. My heart pounds in my ears, drowning out the music. I sweep my tongue inside her mouth, tasting her essence, and it’s like a drug injected straight into my veins. I suck on her tongue, lick over her bottom lip, then kiss her again.

She goes boneless against me, her hands curled over my shoulders, sinking into me, opening her mouth to me. Our tongues slide together as we kiss again and again. Long moments later, I pull back and stare at her, both of us breathing hard. “Christ.”

Her shiny lips part and her heavy-lidded eyes do a slow blink. “Um. Yeah.”

The tight pressure in my balls makes me reluctant to even move. “Goddammit, Carrie, I want to take you out of here and bang the bejesus out of you.”

Her eyes widen. “Oh.”

“Hey. You okay, Carrie?”

I turn to the man who just spoke beside us and frown at him. “Who are you?”

“No, no, dude . . . who areyou?” The man lifts his chin and crosses his arms. A Black woman stands beside him, eyes moving back and forth between Carrie and me, a slight smile tilting up the corners of her full lips.

“It’s okay, Chase.” Carrie grabs the guy’s biceps and squeezes. “Marco, this is my friend Chase. He’s a photographer. Chase, this is Marco Solis. You remember my friend Hayden?”

“Yeah.” Chase continues to eye me suspiciously.

“Marco is her fiancé’s friend and business partner.”

“Ah.” Chase’s eyebrows stay joined above his nose.

“And this is Chantal,” Carrie continues, smiling at the woman. “She’s a hairstylist. An amazing hairstylist.” She fluffs her tousled waves.

If Chantal is responsible for this sexy bed-head look, I want to kiss her. Okay, on the cheek.

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