Page 6 of Roots of the Wicked

I twisted my wrist from his tight grip and pulled apart the cufflink at his wrist. The ping of it hitting the floor echoed in the small space but didn’t break our intense connection.

“You first; how far does your tattoo go?” I raked my nails across the area at his wrist, letting him know I had spotted his ink. My action caused him to hiss in a shot of air, but his gaze never wavered when he reached up to finger his tie.

When he unfastened the top button on his shirt, the ding followed by the elevator door opening snatched us from the heated fantasy we had been engulfed in. Was he planning to take off his shirt to show me his tattoo? I guess I’ll never know, but I’d be damned if I wasn’t curious.

People didn’t wait until we exited before they piled into the elevator. Chase turned and placed a firm hand on the elevator door so I could exit, his caressing gaze keeping me inflamed.

“It was nice meeting you Jax,” he said. Chase kept the elevator door open, knowing full well no one would say a thing about being held up.

“You too Chase.”

Without looking back, I strutted away with a soaking wet pussy, and the knowledge that Chase Taylorson, was nothing like he presented himself to the rest of the world. Like Clark Kent, I think the glasses were a prop to help hide his true nature.

The June heat outside had nothing on him. Chase had me so fucking hot and worked up, my damn titties were dripping sweat like I was strolling through the Mohave in black leather. I thrived on control, and he was the first man I’d ever met who could make me lose it.

I sensed his eyes on me as I marched closer to the spinning golden glass doors, wanting to sever our connection and be releasedonto Fifth Avenue. I focused on the view of the busy New York City street, eager to be swallowed by the crush of swirling bodies, the noise of honking horns, roaring engines, and the scent of excitement mixed with fumes of every kind.

It took great effort, but I used every part of me to aid in my refusal to look back. Too stubborn to give Chase the satisfaction of seeing how he affected me. He was smart, there was no denying that, but he was a powerhouse of masculinity hidden under those suits and glasses. I knew it as well as I knew information technology. This was our beginning, if Chase had anything to say about it.

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