Page 41 of Claiming Atlas
I’ve already had more than my usual amount of bubbly, which would explain why I’m here. It would also explain why I’m going to actually get into that bathtub of bubbles when the concierge finally leaves.
“It’s going to be ice cold,” I say, looking at Atlas warily.
He frowns, glancing back over at the tub. “I didn’t think of that.”
I laugh, then swipe the bottle from him and take another sip. I’ll need to be plenty drunk to be warm enough on the inside to get into a bathtub full of champagne. He watches me from the bed, and there’s just something about his dark gaze that makes me want to pounce on him. It’s like he watches me, knowing he can have me at any time, yet he waits patiently. He hasn’t even touched me since we got back into the room, and I can’t tell if he’s being a gentleman because we aren’t alone, or trying to drive me absolutely crazy.
Either way, it’s working.
The wet heat between my legs is proof of that.
The concierge clears his throat, interrupting our staring contest. Atlas looks away first, and I take another long drink of champagne. I’ll pay for this in the morning, but I can’t get into a bathtub full of champagne completely sober.
“The tub is... full, sir.” His brows are furrowed. Seems even he’s confused about why Atlas wants a bathtub full of champagne.
“Thanks, bro.” Atlas climbs off the bed, then walks over to the guy and hands him some cash. “We’ll need two plates of hash browns, a couple orders of eggs benny, at least three sides of bacon, and”—he glances over his shoulder at me—“pancakes?”
I smile and nod.
“Right now, sir?”
Atlas shakes his head in annoyance. “No, bro, not right now. I just had you fill a bathtub full of champagne so I can fuck this woman in golden bubbles, and you think I want to eatnow?”
I look away as my cheeks heat. Oh my god.
The guy stutters as he leaves, but as soon as the door is shut, and Atlas has clicked the lock, I spin around to face him. “I can’t believe you said that!”
He raises his hands as he approaches me. “What? It’s the truth?”
I shake my head. “You... you... embarrassed him.”
He tilts his head, eyes narrowing as he tries to figure me out. “But not you, somehow.”
I shrug. “Oh, don’t get it twisted. I’m embarrassed—”
“But you’re intrigued too.” He stops a foot away, close enough to smell him but not close enough to touch him.
I swallow hard. He has no idea how intrigued I am.
“You like the way I talk to people.” He searches my gaze. “You like the way I talk toyou.”
God, yes.I pull in a breath through my nose.
“You like that I intend to fuck you and I don’t care who knows it.”
I blow a deep breath out through my nose and a whimper sounds low in my throat. The longer we stand here, close but not close enough, the hotter my belly burns, the pressure mounting to a palpable force. I want him so badly I can taste it.
He steps forward, and I take a step back. He tilts his head, so I smile. Two can play this game. He knows damn well what he’s doing to me, so I’ll give it right back to him. I’m a professional seductress, master of the art of look-but-don’t-touch; we can go head to head until we’re both a heated mess of desire and need so strong it takes on a life of its own.
His lips quirk up on one side, and he reaches out to slip a finger through one of my belt loops. “Come here.” He pulls me to him, crushing his body against mine as our lips connect. The pressure of his erection against me sends my head into a spin. He kisses me long and hard, his mouth sending electricity throughout my body as he teases my tongue, my lips, my jaw. He pulls my sweater over my head and makes a low groan in his throat as he looks back and forth between my breasts. He leans forward, cupping them both in his hands, then sucks one nipple into his mouth. I gasp as the feeling registers straight down in my toes. He sucks hard until my back arches, then releases my nipple and switches to the other one, repeating each motion until both breasts are hard and swollen from his mouth, and somehow I think I might die if he’s not inside me soon.
He lowers himself to his knees and starts to unbutton my jeans.
When he slides the zipper down, his fingers brush against my panties, and I realize I’ve closed my eyes, so I open them and look down at him. He starts to slide my jeans down over my hips, then pauses, his eyes widening. He looks up at me and smiles, then runs his thumb over the wet spot on my panties. His touch sends a shiver through my body. When he does it a few more times, I reach for him, sliding my hands through his thick, dark hair. I need to touch him, feel him.
He leans forward and kisses along the top of my panties, then finishes pulling my jeans down.
When he stands and meets my gaze, he smiles. “You’re perfect.”
