Page 3 of High-Rise Heat

My knees inch open and I draw my fingers over the heated lace between my thighs teasing the edge and threatening to sweep the fabric to the side.

Only, the thought of Dom in the other room makes my pulse increase. This is different somehow. He’s not locked away on the other side of the hotel. He could be in the hall, or just outside my door. Heck, he could knock on my door. I bite my lip as my fingers breeze over the lace, where I’m wet and swollen. Hell, forget knocking. What if he opens the door and comes right in? He doesn’t know what room I picked. He could easily swing the door open and accidently find me here, legs open and pussy drenched. My hips rise off the blankets at the possibility. What if he didn’t stop at the door? What if the surprise of finding me practically naked is all the permission he needs? What if he storms past the door, tears off my panties, and covers my pussy with his—I gasp at the thought of his mouth—hot gorgeous lips intimately sucking. His tongue – I pull the lace fabric aside and thrust two fingers inside myself.

“Oh God!” I breathe, imagining the touch is his. Imagining him shirtless and hooking my knees over his shoulders as he savors my scent, before dragging his lips across my clit. I grip the sheets with my free hand, knowing in reality he’s only steps away, closer than he’s ever been. And the truth of that makes my pussy clench. I cover my face with a pillow to muffle my gasps, but I’m nowhere near the release I want. This would be a thousand times better under his hands.

Sweat makes the sheets stick to my back and I imagine Dom dropping his pants and sliding his beautiful cock inside me. But it’s not good enough. It’s not the same as being actually fucked. It makes me realize how long it’s been since I’ve actually had a man, and I’m desperate and annoyed at how far off this orgasm really is, at how damn familiar I am with my own fingers. They don’t have Dom’s roughness, or the surprise of not knowing how he wants to touch me.

I drop my hands to the side of the bed after several unsuccessful attempts to work myself into a frenzy. I grind my eyes closed in frustration. The musk of sex hangs on my skin without properly bringing me to release, mocking me with what I want, but can’t have.

Damn.

This is going to be a long, long weekend.

2

Ilsa

Iwake up in my underwear, realizing I must’ve passed out after last night’s frustrations. Crisp morning light filters into the uber-modern room, which I didn’t even bother to look at last night. To my left is a floor-to-ceiling window instead of a wall, similar to the ones out on the terrace. The view overlooks an expanse of skyscrapers, all of them tiny and endless. The city is harsher in the daylight, having lost its neon galaxy of twinkling lights from the night before. That’s life, isn’t it? Everything is more sobering in the daylight.

I walk to the window and my reflection catches the glass. My brunette hair and hour-glass figure ghost over the cityscape, and caught somewhere between the buildings and the refraction of light is a half-defined version of myself that’s not quite solid, a part of me that feels only half-there.

Needing a shower to clear my head, I pull off my undergarments, only to turn and realize I don’t have a bathroom. Seriously? I’m in the presidential suite and I randomly picked the room without a private bath? I search the closet and find a robe, tying it shut around my waist before walking into the hallway. Good thing I didn’t have to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night. I wouldn’t put it past myself have stumbled half-awake through these halls in hardly my knickers. Damn. Maybe I’m gettingtoo comfortablewith Dom.

I turn the corner and slam right into him.

“Oh jeez! Dammit!” I swear as we twist in the momentary chaos. His hands grab my waist as we try to right ourselves, both of us cursing. Not to mention, my body perking up at the fact that under this robe I’m wearingnothing! “I was trying to find—” I mumble, looking up only to see—

The man holding my waist isn’t Dom!

“Uh …?” A streak of panic wicks through me at the sight of the stranger. “Who the hell are you?”

His brown eyes flash wide, surprised at my intensity. “Sorry! Hi—” he flusters, the embarrassment of crashing into a stranger disorienting us both. “I, uh—I’m Dom’s friend. I didn’t see you coming around the corner. Sorry about that. It’s Ilsa, right? You’re Dom’s coworker.” He moves back half a step and it gives me a second to see him. He’s obviously in his pajamas, wearing nothing but a thin t-shirt and shorts. It shows off his broad shoulders and toned calves. He’s in his thirties with five-o-clock shadow and dark hair that’s unfairly sexy with his tousled I-just-woke-up look.

“Um, uh …” I stutter. “I—I didn’t know—Dom had …”

His face breaks into the most beautiful of smiles and his eyes warm with a friendliness that disarms me in the most inappropriate way.

“Dom didn’t tell you I was coming, huh?” He squeezes my side as if we’re close friends. “That totally makes sense. My fault,” he explains. “I didn’t know if my trip was gonna land me in Hong Kong this weekend or not. Dom told me to come by if things lined up. I didn’t know till last minute. I got in late last night. You were asleep already.”

I want to pull my robe tighter around my waist, uncomfortable with his hands still there, but his warm gaze has me paralyzed. What ifthis strangerwalked in on me last night? My door was unlocked. He could have found me sleeping in my underwear!

“I’m sorry.” I shake my head. “Clearly I need a massive cup of coffee to help me understand. Did you say you’re Dom’s friend? Who just happens to be in Hong Kong?”

“Yeah, sorry. You’re obviously”—his eyes flick down my robe—“not up yet.” A slight smile plays on his tanned face and I try to ignore it, even though my body seems to be delighted. Damn, I’m way too strung up over Dom that my body is reacting to any attention it can get. “Why don’t you take a shower and I’ll reintroduce myself once you’re up.”

I eye him, still thrown off guard. “Yeah, uh …” I start, but the more awkward part is his hands are still at my sides, though there’s something innocent and charming about it, as if he simply forgot they’re there. He breathes in slowly and suddenly I can smell myself. Ineeda shower. The dank perfume of my skin wafts out from under my cotton robe, evidence from the sweat that covered my body last night with its unmistakable musk of sex. His eyes catch mine and my neck hairs stand on end. Can he smell me? Does he think Dom and me … or does he realize I did that all on my own?

“Do, um … do you have a name, Dom’s-Friend?” I say to cut the prickle of tension that ticks up my spine.

“Of course,” he shakes his head, and that dashing smile spreads over his face again, only it lights up his features in an embarrassed way, as if he needs to hide something. As if I caught him thinking something he shouldn’t. “Sorry. I feel like I’m going to be apologizing to you all weekend.”

“You’re here all weekend?”

“Uh, yeah.” He nods, catching my tone. “Dom said you’d be working most of the weekend. I won’t be in the way.”

I look toward the kitchen, wondering where Dom is. “No, of course,” I say. “Weareworking this weekend. Why else would we be here.” A knot of something I don’t understand balls in my stomach. Dom is allowed to have friends. He’s allowed to invite them to visit. And this suite is huge, after all. There’s plenty of room. But,thisweekend? This deal? Hong Kong was supposed to be our time away from the world, away from everyone we know. “It’s just a big weekend,” I say, controlling my tone.

“You won’t know I’m here,” he guarantees, his eyes flicking to my neck and making me certain it will be the complete opposite. I’m already too aware of how my bodylikeshis hands on my waist and the unapologetic way his eyes run down my neck. He’s brash and present and completely different than Dom. He’s not afraid to look at me like I’m a woman—not his co-worker or his friend—but something he would like the pleasure of devouring.

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