then she let them drift lower.
He gripped her wrists, pulling her hands away just before she could cup his dick through his dress pants.
“Bad girl,” he murmured, wishing his words hadn’t put such a sexy, wicked grin on her face.
Too much vodka.
It had to be the alcohol.
Ryder tried to reconcile what was happening, searching for an excuse that made sense. Because he didn’t act out of character.
Ever.
And this…this man wasn’t him.
Not even close.
Ryder ignored the tiny voice that said it might not be him, but damn if it wasn’t who he wanted to be.
“I wanna be bad. Very bad,” Darcy whispered. “With you.”
“Fuck.” And then, because he was weak and completely out of control, he kissed her again, though there was no softness behind it. It was a hard, rough, brutal kiss that was likely to leave bruises.
Ryder twisted her away from the wall at her back and pressed her to the floor, coming over her, his lips never leaving hers.
He caged her beneath him, his weight held only by his elbows as the rest of their bodies were connected everywhere.
Darcy opened her legs, and he accepted her silent invitation, grinding his covered cock against her center.
She gasped, then groaned, her eyes drifting closed as she lifted her hips, searching for more.
He thrust downward again, his own eyes shut as he lost himself in the sensations of mimicking sex.
Sex with Darcy.
His eyes flew open, and once again, he felt that brief determination to pull away. Until he saw her gaze on his face and felt her fingers working to free the buttons of his shirt.
“I want to see you,” she said. “Want to lick every part of you.”
Mother. Fucker.
Four years was a long goddamned time. Ryder had been far from a saint in his younger years, and shades of his former self reemerged, parts he’d thought he had outgrown or managed to snuff out.
Darcy, with her sweet smile and unending questions, had dragged more than just a long-buried secret from him.
She’d reached even deeper and unleashed a beast.
Her gaze drifted lower once she’d unbuttoned his shirt, studying what she’d unwrapped. He hissed when she drew a single fingernail down the center of his chest, not stopping until she reached the buckle of his belt.
Once again, he got a sense of familiarity…like they’d done this before.
Ryder pushed himself away from her, kneeling between her outstretched legs.
Darcy frowned at the sudden loss of his weight on top of her, and she started to complain.
“No,” he said, his tone harsher, harder than normal. “Sit up, Darcy. Take off your shirt and bra.”
Her cheeks, which had already been flushed pink from her arousal, deepened to a dark red. His first thought was that she was embarrassed, but that was washed away when Darcy did exactly as he asked, sitting in front of him as she tugged her lightweight sweater over her head in one confident pull.
Her bra was dark blue and lacy, one of those push-up types that showed off a woman’s cleavage. Somehow even more blood managed to make its way to his already rock-hard dick.
Darcy looked at him, her eyes betraying a sudden shyness he hadn’t felt from her before now.
It didn’t help. If anything…it provoked the alpha male inside, the one who needed to be obeyed.
“Take off your bra,” he said again.
She reached behind her back, unsnapping her bra. Then, once again, with the confidence of a woman who knew her worth, she slipped the straps off her shoulders and pulled the lace away.
Ryder was a tit man—and Darcy’s were fucking perfect. Full, firm, with light pink areolas and large, tight nipples.
One second, he was looking, the next, he was holding them. Ryder cupped her breasts in his large palms, loving the way she filled his hands. Then he lowered his mouth and sucked one of her nipples into his mouth. Hard.
Darcy gasped, her hands flying to his hair.
He increased the suction, expecting her to push him away.
Again, she surprised him, pulling him closer as she threw her head back. “More. God, harder.”
He shifted his head, taking her other nipple between his lips—and teeth—as he pinched the one he’d just released, hot and wet from his mouth. Darcy held him close, filling the silence in the elevator with gasps and sighs and quiet moans.
Ryder could have played with her tits all night and never—never—gotten tired of it.
“Ryder,” Darcy said at last. “I need…God…”
He lifted his head and took in her glazed, unfocused eyes. She was on the verge of coming and