“Tris,” I breathe as I feel my resistance begin to wane.
“One last time.”
He sucks on my tongue, and I go weak at the knees.
“We shouldn’t,” I whimper as my hands go to his muscular behind.
“We totally fucking should.” He pins me to the wall, and I feel his rock-hard erection up against my stomach.
My insides begin to liquefy . . . fucking hell, he’s so damn hot that I can’t stand it.
Burning inferno.
“Go out there, and tell him you’re going home.”
“Why would I do that?”
“Because you are going home. With me.”
“Tristan.”
“Or I can come and drag you from the table. It’s your choice.” He shrugs casually. “I need you.” He grabs my hip bones and drags my body over his hardened cock. He does need me; every cell in his body needs me. I can feel it.
His hands are in my hair, and our kisses become frantic. Deep, long, and passionate.
Oh hell . . .
I need you too.
“Last time,” I pant against his open lips.
“For real.” His eyes are closed in pleasure.
What must we look like?
He’s fighting this too. He knows we are wrong for each other, but the physical attraction between us is just too strong.
One time . . . one time won’t hurt . . . will it?
The damage is already done. One more time won’t hurt, surely?
“Go out there, and tell him you’re leaving,” he says as he straightens my skirt and tucks in my blouse.
“I’m finishing my drink, and then I will.”
He kisses me tenderly; his lips linger over mine. “Stay at my house.”
“No, I have a room booked.”
“Where?”
“The Edison at Times Square.”
“Meet you there. Tell the desk that your husband is picking up a key.”
I nod, unable to verbally agree to this lunacy. My voice box must know that this is a bad idea.
He tucks a piece of hair behind my ear, smiles, and kisses me once more. He really is a gorgeous man—there’s no denying it.
“It’s good to see you, Anderson,” he whispers.
I smile softly up at the forbidden fruit . . . it’s so good to see you.
His dark eyes hold mine. “I can’t fucking wait to get you naked.”
He turns and, without another word, walks back out into the bar as if nothing has happened.
I stare after him. My hair is messed up, and my body is tingling from head to toe. My chest rises and falls as I try to regain my composure. Jesus, what did I just agree to?
Tristan fucking Miles.
I switch the channel on the television and glance at the clock. Where is he?
It’s been over an hour. I raced back to my hotel room, showered, and got all irresistible, and now he hasn’t even come . . . what if he doesn’t show up?
My eyes widen in horror as a possibility comes to mind. What if he was just pulling a power play to prove that he can have me if he wants me? No . . . he wouldn’t.
Oh my God, he totally would . . . it’s Tristan. What did I expect?
I hear the door click, and I quickly rearrange myself in the bed.
He’s lucky.
The door opens, and he closes it behind him. He turns, and then his eyes float over my naked body. He gives me a slow, sexy smile. “Anderson.”
I’m lying on the bed, naked, my legs slightly parted. If I’m going to do this whore-bag thing, I’m going hard core. Don’t mess with me tonight, fucker; you have something I need.
You’re going down . . . literally.
His eyes fix on mine. “Playing hard to get, I see?” He jerks his tie hard as he undoes it.
“I am hard to get.” I tap the bed beside me. “But tonight, I’m easy to fuck.”
He chuckles as he sits beside me. “How convenient. I happen to be in the fucking market myself.” He bends and kisses me, and I smile against his lips.
His hand runs up the inside of my inner thigh and then swipes down and through my wet sex . . . this all feels so natural.
Too natural.
As if he was always meant to touch me . . . as if he always has.
No. Not tonight. I want some power in this exchange. He’s doing what I want. He’s pleasing me.
I arch my back and spread my legs. “Feeling hungry?” I ask.
His eyes flicker with arousal, and he smiles darkly. “Fucking oath I am.” He stands and tears his jacket over his shoulders and throws it to the side with