Page 62 of Claiming Atlas
I whimper as my belly tightens. I can’t do this anymore. I want him, need him to myself.
Now.
I break our kiss and it pains me to pull away from his lips. I press my chest against his and run my hands through his hair, tugging it gently until his head tips back, then I run my mouth up his throat to his ear. “Take me home, Atlas.”
He stands quickly, gripping my ass as he does so, keeping me wrapped around his waist. The chair falls to the ground behind him with a crash that stops all conversation in the room. I press my face into his neck to hide my laughter.
“Sorry,” he says, his voice thick. He clears his throat. “Sorry about that. I, uh, I got up too fast.”
People murmur around the table and his chest shakes on a laugh, then he starts to step away from the chair.
A hand grazes my leg, then freezes. “Atlas?”
I giggle, because I can’t keep it in anymore. His playmate fangirl has just rubbed my thigh, and I can only imagine what’s going through her head right now.
“Oh my god,” I whisper. “Go.”
He laughs, then slowly shuffles his feet until we’re away from the table. Then he stops. “I don’t know how to get out,” he whispers in my ear.
“Sir?”
Atlas spins to the sound of the man’s voice. “Yes?”
“Do you need an escort?”
“Yes. Sorry. I... need to use the rest room.”
“Yes sir, of course. Please place your hand on my shoulder.”
“I... I can’t.”
I snort, then bury my face against him again.
“Sir?”
“My hands are full?”
“Ah, I see. Please try to follow my voice.” The server continues talking and Atlas follows him until a door opens in front of us and he stands aside so we can sneak past.
Once we’re back out in the main area of the building and the door to the dining area has closed behind us, Atlas sets me down, then steps back to give me one long look from head to toe and back up again. His gaze sends heat through my body, and I shiver in anticipation.
He licks his lips and pulls his bottom lip into his teeth, and I nearly come apart when he meets my gaze. “Hot damn, Kayla, you look good enough to eat.”
My mind goes flying back to last night, and the way he licked champagne from the most delicate parts of me, and I squeeze my thighs together as wetness pools between my legs.
He catches the movement and his eyes flick downward. He shakes his head and groans. “Fuck, you’re killing me. Let’s go.” He wraps his hand through mine and starts to lead me toward the front door.
“Wait.” I stop, and when he turns back to look at me, I wave my hand toward my barely there clothing. “In this?”
He looks me over, then grins mischievously. “Fuck. Yes. Only that.”
I lick my lips and fight back a smile. “I’m not walking outside in this.”
He frowns. “Are you sure?”
“Are you pouting?”
“Yes.” He pokes his bottom lip out.
