The Takeover - T.L. Swan Page 0,22

who does this sort of thing,” I whisper.

“And I’m the kind of man that does. You don’t even have to talk; I’ll do all the work.”

The air buzzes between us like electricity.

This is it, the defining moment—an offer to possibly find the woman inside of me whom I’ve lost. I know that I have two choices. I can go home alone and always regret this moment, or I can have honest sex with a man with whom it’s impossible to form an emotional attachment.

“We’re going to the cellar,” Nelson says jovially from behind us, breaking the spell. “You guys coming?”

I look over at the group as they all stand by the door, waiting for everyone, and I know I need to make a decision. “Um . . . no. I’m going to call it a night and go to bed.”

“Oh, okay.” Nelson turns to Tristan. “You coming?”

“No, I’m meeting a friend here at the bar. She hasn’t arrived yet,” he lies without a beat.

Nelson smiles. “Lucky bastard. Have fun for me.” He slaps him hard on the back and smiles at the two of us. “Good night, then. See you tomorrow.”

“Good night.”

The group waves to us, and with a loud chatter among them, they leave the bar.

Tristan’s eyes come to me. “Your room or mine?”

“Mine.”

I unlock the door to my room as he stands behind me. I can feel his breath on the back of my neck, and I may pass out at any moment . . . or orgasm. Both options aren’t ideal or particularly cool.

He kicks the door shut and, without a word, takes my face in his hands and kisses me as he walks me backward toward my bed. His tongue dives deep into my mouth as he holds me close, and goose bumps scatter up my spine.

No matter what happens from here . . . the man can kiss. So . . . well.

Our tongues dance together, and I can’t even open my eyes to look at him.

I’m so in the moment that it’s just ridiculous.

“Jesus,” he murmurs against my lips.

I giggle.

“Hurry up. Fuck.” He begins to undo the buttons of his shirt with urgency.

“What’s the rush?”

“The rush is I want you naked, and I can’t get you naked until I’m naked. It’s the naked law.”

“There’s a naked law?”

“Everyone knows that. Fuck.” He rolls his eyes. “I told you not to talk, remember?”

I laugh. Oh man. He’s fun.

He tears his shirt over his shoulders, and my breath catches. Broad and muscular, with a scattering of dark hair. He has a rippled abdomen and a V of muscles that disappears into his pants.

Holy shit.

Suddenly, I’m nervous.

Nobody has seen me naked in a very long time . . . oh jeez.

Abort mission.

He takes my fingers and puts them on his zipper. He smiles, with his eyes fixed on mine. “Take it all off,” he mouths.

My heart somersaults in my chest, and I slowly slide the zipper of his trousers down. The tip of his cock sits above the waistband of his briefs. Preejaculate is beading on the end of it, and my stomach clenches hard. In fear and anticipation and horror . . . oh hell, so much to clench about. He holds his hands out wide and smiles down at me.

“Do it,” he says.

I slide his trousers down and then his briefs. His cock is large and broad, and it hangs heavily between his legs.

Oh . . . shit.

I inhale deeply as I stare down at him. He’s a beautiful man. Handsome, built, and well endowed. I have no words as my eyes drink him in . . . just wow.

He smiles darkly. “My turn.”

I puff air into my cheeks.

“I . . .”

His lips drop to my neck, and I look up to the ceiling. He begins to undo the buttons on my silk shirt, and I wince and slightly pull away from him.

“What?”

“I . . . haven’t . . .”

He stares at me, waiting.

“I . . .”

“You what?” He kisses me softly, as if to prompt me to speak.

“I haven’t had sex in a really long time.”

His face falls as he connects the dots. “Since?”

I shake my head.

“Jesus, Anderson . . . no pressure.”

“Why would that make you feel pressured?” I stammer.

He throws his hands up in the air. “Because, like . . . fuck.” He goes back to work on my blouse and throws it to the side and then stops and smiles as he looks down at me.

I close my eyes, so nervous that

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