Page 71 of Wicked Lies

“You’re blasted, baby.” Nick laughed. “Drunk off your ass.”

“I am not.” She giggled. “Well, maybe a little.”

The elevator doorswhooshedclosed, and the slight movement made her lose her balance.

“Easy now.” He righted her, but she whirled around and flung her arms around his neck.

“I don’t understand it. Isabelle drank as much as I did, and she was fine.”

“Isabelle’s Brazilian. She can drink me under the table.”

She shoved him against the mirrored elevator wall, pressed her lips against his, and sighed. “You are sooo hot. You were the hottest guy in the club.”

“You think so, huh?” Cheryl made him forget Alejandro, the club, and all the shit squirming around inside him.

“Absolutely.”

She tugged at the buttons of his linen shirt and then moved down to his belt. As drunk as she was, she unfastened the leather straps in two quick moves. Hanging on to the loosened buckle, she sank to her knees, and his dick twitched. The scraping sound of his zipper snapped him back to reality.

“Whoa.” He stilled her hands and tugged her up along with his zipper.

Cheryl dropped one of her hands to his crotch. “You are sooo big. Huge, immense, gigantic. And so hot, too.” She paused. “Did I already say that?”

“Yeah, you did.” He snatched her hand away again. “C’mon, baby. Not here.” With his luck, the doors would open, and the gay couple who shared the other condo on his floor would be standing there.

“I got a big private bedroom waiting for us.”

Bending down, he gathered her into his arms again. She squealed and pretended to fight him, but then buried her head in his neck. Her warm tongue, nipping and nibbling, made him stagger off the elevator while he rummaged in his pocket for the key.

He eased her down, closed the door behind them, and held her for a second so she could steady herself. Throwing him a teasing smile, Cheryl swayed toward the bedroom. He followed her, caught her from behind, and whirled her around, pressing his lips against her neck. A shiver slid up her spine when he yanked at the thin straps of her dress.

“Be careful. You’ll rip it.”

“Fuck the dress.” He moaned into her mouth. “I’ll buy you another.”

With the straps off her shoulders, the soft material skimmed over Cheryl’s hips and pooled around her heels. She stood before him naked except for the white lacy thong accentuating her tan and those sexy fuck-me stilettos.

“Exactly how I wanted to see those shoes when we bought them.”

She attempted to push them off, but he stopped her. “Leave them on.”

He shrugged off his shirt, coaxed her onto the bed, slid his hands down each leg, then settled her designer-clad feet around his waist. She rubbed the sculptured spikes against his bare back, and he groaned.

“Fuck me, baby, that’s sweet.”

She did it again, and he groaned louder.

A heat boiled in his chest while his dick pushed and pulsed against the zipper of his pants. Fuckin’ thing had a mind of its own, and it wanted out and into her wet, hot body.

“I need your hard dick in me now.” She rocked against him and sank her hands into his hair. “Rubbing up against me and making me come.”

“I want you too, but this is more than sex. Do you get what I’m trying to say?”

Letting go of him, she sprawled herself across his king-size bed, her dark brown hair wild and disheveled against the sheets, her arms outstretched and welcoming. A sexy mix of innocence and raw need made Cheryl every man’s wettest dream.

“Sure.” She drew him closer. “Now will you please shut up and get busy here?”

“I feel different when I’m with you, and . . .”

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