Page 52 of Forbidden Devotion
“I’m a little lost. This place is a labyrinth, but my room is in the emerald wing somewhere. On the fourth floor,” Sinclair said as they approached a set of shining gold elevators.
“Mine is across the atrium in another building. We’ll never find it. Better to go to yours.”
“Deal.” Sinclair pressed the Up button, and the elevator doors opened. It was empty. They stepped in together. The moment the doors closed behind them, Mitchel reached for Sinclair’s waist, pushing him backward until Sinclair was pressed up against the mirrored wall.
Mitchel leaned in. “I’ve been thinking about kissing you all night.”
“Me too.” Sinclair met him halfway.
The kiss, warm and electric, sent a tingle shooting down his spine. He closed the distance between them, pressing their bodies firmly against each other as he sucked Sinclair’s tongue into his mouth.
Sinclair moaned, and Mitchel sucked harder, earning a repeat of that gratifying sound. Sinclair’s hands were on his neck, holding him in place.
The elevator dinged, and they broke apart wide-eyed and staring at each other, both breathing heavily. Mitchel grabbed his hand and tugged him into the hall.
“Room number?”
“Four fourteen.”
Mitchel spotted a sign. “This way.”
They turned a corner to the left, still hand in hand, and found a cluster of vampires chatting in the hall.
Mitchel dropped Sinclair’s hand. His muscles tensed on instinct. Old habits would be difficult to break.
At first, the group paid them no attention, but when they scented a werewolf approaching, their body language became cautious. Heads turned.
The group fell silent as Mitchel and Sinclair passed. Sinclair tipped his head in greeting. Mitchel did not.
He realized he’d put himself in the middle of a floor occupied entirely by vampires. Something he’d never have done before this night. Before Sinclair.
An uncomfortable awareness of their proximity, of his presence, notably odd, even though he was accompanied by one of them, of the tension that hung in the air between them rose in his mind. He tamped it down. There was nothing to fear. This was a peace conference after all.
Nothing came of the silent exchange, and they found Sinclair’s room without incident.
Sinclair pulled the proximity card out of his suit pocket and unlocked the door with a tap. He pushed it open. “After you.”
A quick glance back at the gaggle of vampires informed him they still watched. Their gazes set heavy on his back. He told himself it didn’t matter and stepped inside.
The room smelled faintly of lemon and blood, an unusual combination, but not unpleasant. It also smelled of Sinclair, a scent he’d grown fond of, sweet and spicy at once.
Sinclair followed him in, shut the door, and leaned against it.
Mitchel cast an appreciative glance from head to toe, licking his lips. “I’ve never seen you dressed up. Suits you.”
“I could say the same.” Sinclair was giving him a slow once-over too. His eyes grew dark, half-lidded. He peered through his lashes. “I can think of a few other uses for that tie of yours.”
Heat rushed to his groin as the image of Sinclair with his wrists bound over his head flashed in his mind in perfect detail. “Can you? It’s my only tie, but I’d give it up for a good cause.”
Sinclair nodded and pushed off the door. “I’ll buy you a new one.”
"As sexy as you look in that suit,” Mitchel growled out, desire fueling his daring, “I want to rip it right off you.”
Sinclair’s grin turned wicked. “Then by all means, rip it off me.”
CHAPTERNINETEEN
Sinclair
