Page 8 of Broken King

The hairson the back of my neck are standing on edge from the crazy electricity bouncing between Cade and me as he follows me to the elevator. But it’s not until we’re standing in the crowded elevator, traveling up to the thirty-sixth floor, that I give myself permission to study his sculpted face. To explore those green eyes that stare straight ahead instead of at me.

My fingers ache to trace the hard lines of his face and run through his blonde hair.

I stare at him, willing him... silently begging him to look at me.

But he doesn’t.

Two floors up, a group of rowdy young guys from a bachelor party, judging by their conversation, enter the elevator and take it from crowded to uncomfortable. Cade moves his body behind mine and angles us away from the drunk men. He was always protective. And being this close to him feels more dangerous than those frat boys ever could.

But now, with his breath on my neck, and the masculine, salt-water scent of him enveloping me, I don’t feel protected. No. The only thing I feel is need.

The match has been lit, and now he’s fanning the flame.

The question is, does he even realize what he’s doing?

Could he possibly want this as much as I do?

I step back, closing the distance between us.

The soft silk of my dress pressing up against the front of his pants.

Rubbing up against his undeniably hard dick.

The elevator moves so slowly, stopping every few floors. Yet somehow, not slow enough. I grind back into him and tilt my head slightly so I can see his gorgeous green eyes.

Cade sucks in a breath and grabs my hips with both hands.

One more swish of my hips, and his arm bands tightly around my waist.

Holding me still.

Holding me tightly to his chest.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see one of the younger guys openly staring at us, but I can’t bring myself to care. My core pulses with need, and I wrap my arms around Cade’s before I shimmy again.

Hot lips graze my ear. “Is this show for me or for him, duchess? Because I don’t share.”

Those words shouldn’t send a thrill down my spine, but they do.

As the elevator empties floor by floor, Cade’s hands grow bolder. By the twenty-eighth floor, it’s just us and an older couple in front of us. One callused palm slides up my bare leg as the other grazes the curve of my breast, the touch eliciting a small moan. Fortunately, the two people standing close to the elevator doors don’t turn around.

Probably scared to see what we’re doing back here.

As the last of the people in the elevator step off on the thirty-third floor, I turn into Cade’s body. His legs are spread wide. Black pants stretch across thick thighs. Strong hands are on my body. A chunky silver watch is showing on his wrist from where his sleeve is rolled up. His black collared shirt is pulled tight across a broad chest, covering muscles I studied from the safety and solitude of my home every single time one of his fights was televised years ago.

I’ve wanted this man for years. I’ve strategically kept my distance until now. I knew my willpower wouldn’t be able to stand up to the undeniable pull he’s always had on me. It’s why I’ve stayed away. Cade St. James is like a drug.

He promises the highest high.

An addictive high.

I lay my palms flat against the planes of his chest. “Do you think this is a mistake?” Maybe we’re better off leaving the past in the past.

There’s no doubting the disappointment that flashes in his green eyes before he pushes me up against the elevator wall. “Do you really think that, Scarlet?” His strong hands snake behind my neck. “Do you think this is a mistake? Because I don’t. I want you so fucking bad, duchess.” I’m not sure who moves first, but our lips crash together in a tangle of teeth and tongues. One knee nudges my legs apart, and I shamelessly grind against his thick thigh as my arms circle his neck.

The ding of the elevator doors opening faintly registers in my mind before he lifts me into the air with my feet dangling beneath me. “What room number?” is mumbled between kisses.

“Two down from here,” I pant. “3602.” I try to wrap my legs around him, but my dress is too tight.

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