Page 31 of Love to Hate You

His mouth moves over mine, taking and tasting, and I push into him, wanting more. Needing more. I wrap a leg around his calf, push my hips against his and bite his lip.

From somewhere behind us, a whistle pierces the air.

“Jesus, baby,” he rasps, breathing hard. “As much as I can’t wait to be inside of you, I’m not fucking you here and giving all these fuckers a show.” He pulls away, laces his fingers through mine and tugs me toward the parking garage.

Nash doesn’t live very far away, and I don’t have much time to talk myself out of the huge mistake I’m about to make. In fact, I don’t want to. All I want to do is forget about everything except him and all the delicious things we’re about to do to each other.

The apartment building where Nash lives is similar to mine and he lives up on the 30th floor of a high-rise. I’m curious to see his place and the moment he opens the door and flips the light on, I check it out.

It’s modern and masculine with a lot of beiges and browns, but with a surprisingly cozy feel that catches me off-guard. I never expected to feel comfortable in Nash Beckett’s home, but I instantly did.

Dropping my purse and briefcase, I shrug out of my suit jacket and look around, absorbing every detail. I can feel him watching me with interest. Then he grabs my hand and pulls me down the hallway.

“The bedroom is much more exciting than the living room,” he says with a wicked smile.

“Really?” I arch a brow as we walk into the master bedroom and all of my attention lands on the king-size bed draped in a navy comforter with cream throw pillows. “You have throw pillows?”

I walk over and scoop one up, grinning.

“What’s wrong with that?” he asks, clearly perplexed.

When I burst into laughter, he snags the pillow out of my hands and bonks me on the head with it. “Hey!” I say as he tosses the pillow aside and pulls me into his arms. His lips brush over mine, feather light at first, and I lift my mouth, needing more. In answer, he plunges his fingers through the bun at the base of my neck and tugs.

“Take this out,” he orders, voice thick.

I look into his cobalt blue eyes as I pull the pins out and give my head a shake. His gaze darkens with appreciation, and he slides his fingers through the long tresses.

“I love your hair long and loose,” he murmurs, angling my head back and tracing his tongue over my lower lip.

Opening my mouth to him, he needs no further invitation. As far as I’m concerned, he can take me. When his tongue meets mine, I moan into his mouth. Once again, he’s pulling me under, holding me spellbound, and I’m powerless to resist as he backs me up and my legs hit the bed.

Desire flows through me, hot and thick like magma, and I reach out and fumble with the buttons on his shirt. I’m aching for him, so wet it’s embarrassing, and I need to feel his naked body pressing into mine. I shove his shirt off and glance down at his hard, muscled chest. Tingles shoot through me like little, sizzling bolts of lightning.Damn.His build is perfect. Lean, muscular and with grooved abs.

And there’s no missing the emphatic bulge in his pants.

My belly flip-flops and my mouth is watering as I reach for his belt. He doesn’t even bother with my buttons. Just pulls them hard and fast and they all snap, flying off in different directions. My eyes widen in surprise. He just ruined my shirt, but I don’t even care. I’m too desperate for him.

His large hands cup my satin-covered breasts as I finally get his belt unbuckled. Then he reaches around and unsnaps my bra. It gets tossed aside and the moment his warm hands resume where they left off, I lean back and moan. He lifts and molds my flesh, rubbing the nipples into tight peaks, and I think I’ve died and gone to heaven.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs. My breath catches when he unbuttons my pants, slides the zipper down and they fall to the floor.

I should feel self-conscious, standing in front of him in nothing but my black silk panties and high heels, but I don’t. It’s crazy, too, because this is so different from what I usually do with a man in the bedroom. I prefer to have sex in the dark and not spend too much time engaging in leisurely foreplay. When it comes to my sex life, it’s in and out. Thank you and goodbye. I don’t stay long or allow him to if we’re at my place and I certainly don’t hang around afterward and cuddle. Emotional distance is key for me and I never let anyone get under my skin or in my heart.

I reach down and cup him. “Take your pants off,” I say in a no-nonsense voice.

Blue eyes bright, he kicks his shoes and socks off then yanks his pants off. Now we’re both inches away, nearly naked, and my desire skyrockets.

“Lay down,” he says.

This back and forth, giving orders to each other, is making me hot and turning me on until my panties are soaked.

I drop down on the edge of the bed and scoot back as he follows, grabbing my mouth in a kiss that makes my toes curl. His heavy body moves over mine, pressing into me, and I grab the back of his neck, pulling him closer. Our tongues tangle and I dig my nails into his skin, stifling a groan.

The man is driving me straight to the edge of the cliff and I’m scared I’m going to tumble right over. His hands slide my panties down as his mouth drops and he continues kissing my neck.

Oh, God. I am naked beneath Nash Beckett, my worst enemy.

What are you doing?The rational part of my brain demands.

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