Page 70 of Mr. Hook-up

I didn’t bother to look for the waitress. Instead, I reached into my wallet, took out $100, and slipped it underneath one of our glasses. As I shoved the wallet back into my pocket, I locked my hand with Drake’s and headed for the exit. My arm wrapped around her waist as we stepped outside, her head resting against the side of my chest, and I breathed in her hair, filling my lungs with her scent, pressing my lips against that same spot.

I’d waited so long for this moment.

That was why, even though my building was only two blocks away, it felt like it took a goddamn eternity to get there.

We were greeted by my doorman, who held the entrance open for us, the elevator waiting as we walked through the lobby. I hit the “PH” button as soon as we got inside, and as the door closed, I backed Drake up against the wall, surrounding her with my arms.

“I need you,” I roared before my lips touched hers.

This was a desire, a scorching need, that I’d never felt this intensely before. I was sure she knew that by the way I claimed her mouth. By the roughness with which I tackled her lips. By the way I held her strong and steady.

The only reason my mouth left hers was because the elevator had arrived, and I took Drake by the hand and led her through the small hallway and into my condo. I was already peeling off her jacket when the door slammed behind her. I tossed the coat onto my kitchen island, my gaze immediately dipping down her body, taking in the red, tight, incredibly sexy dress that hugged every one of her dips and curves.

“My God.” I slid my palms down her back and pulled her closer. “You look gorgeous.” I ran my fingers down her cheek, lowering to her chest, circling her navel. From there, I held her hips, slightly arching her back. “I’m obsessed with your body.”

“It’s all yours,” she said softly.

“Mine.” I traced the bottom of her tits and around her sides, my fingers stretching to her ass. “You’re perfect, Drake. Every bit of you.”The dress stopped above her knees and bound her so tightly, if I set her on the kitchen island, I’d never be able to spread her legs. So I demanded, “Kiss me,” and I lifted her into my arms and carried her through the living room and into the far wing of my place. When I reached my bed, I set her on the very edge.

The room was pitch dark.

Instead of flipping on any lights, I found the remote to the fireplace and turned it on. As the flames came to life, their glow flickered across her face, giving off just enough of a gleam that I could see what I was doing.

That I could take in that breathtaking face as it looked up at me.

There was no reason to hurry this. I’d waited far too long to rush through it now.

So I took my time lowering her zipper, giving her just enough space to slip her arms out, freeing her top half as I dragged the material down her torso, continuing past her knees until I could toss the dress onto the floor.

All that was left were knee-high boots, black lace panties, and a matching bra.

“Drake ...” I moaned. “I always wondered what you would look like naked”—I shook my head—“but nothing, not a single image I could come up with in my head, compares to what I’m looking at right now.”

She said nothing, her teeth just grazing the larger of her two lips, a hunger moving through her eyes.

I took the base of her boot into my hand, resting the heel against my stomach, and unzipped the leather, wiggling it off her. I did the same with the other boot.

Now only her undergarments were left.

I knelt on the floor in front of her, keeping her legs spread as I gazed up her body. “I could sit here forever, looking at you.”

She was art.

The sexiest form of vulnerability.

She ran her fingers through my hair, pausing to say, “You are every form of flattery and then some, Mr.Boston.”

“I’m not flattering you.” I gave her another scan. “My compliments are barely denting what I see when I look at you.”

As her legs dangled off the bed, I set her feet on the edge and gently grabbed the sides of her panties, gradually shimmying them down her thighs. Over her knees. And, finally, past her feet, flinging them somewhere behind me.

I didn’t look between her legs.

I didn’t break eye contact.

But while I stared into those eyes, which were even darker, richer in this fire-filled room, I again lifted her foot off the bed, and I kissed her ankle. The scent of coconut was just as thick down here, and I slowly made my way up her calf and around her knee. I focused on the inside of her thigh, and when I reached the top, I moved toward her center. That was where I stopped.

I paused.

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