Finding Mr. Write (Business of Love #5) - Ali Parker Page 0,49

toward the doors that led off the observatory deck.

“Should we get out of here?” he called.

I covered my head and we dashed under cover to catch an elevator down to the lobby. Had there not been other people riding down with us, I could only imagine what kind of shenanigans we might have gotten up to. It was easy enough to pretend, so for the whole ride down I pictured Wes pinning me up against one of the elevator doors and kissing me like he had on the roof. I imagined he’d get a little touchy, a little desperate, and he might have even tried to cop a feel.

I would have.

The doors opened and we emerged in the lobby. Wes cursed that his car was parked so far away and we resigned ourselves to getting wet. We had umbrellas, but the sidewalks were so jam packed with pedestrians that the umbrellas slowed us down.

We closed them and ran through the crowds with my hand in his.

We reached his car and climbed in. We were soaking wet and I felt bad about getting his interior wet. He assured me it didn’t matter, put the car in drive, and pulled away from the curb.

“My place isn’t far from here,” he said as we took a right and wove around backed-up taxi cabs. “We can go there and get dry and warmed up.”

I had a couple ideas of how we could warm up and it had nothing to do with getting dry.

I’d told him I needed time to sort out how I felt about him and what I wanted. That had been the truth. However, it was clear to me that I wouldn’t be able to take that time to slow things down because my body had a mind of its own.

I wanted him.

I wanted him more than I’d wanted anyone or anything before. I spent the majority of the drive fixated on everything about him that was too sexy to resist.

I stared at the bit of his exposed wrist beneath the sleeve of his jacket as he rested his hand on the steering wheel at a red light. I stared at the tendons flexed on the back of his hands and wondered how well he could use them. I admired the spread of his legs and how he sat back in his seat, comfortable and confident, masculine and steady.

He glanced over at me as we pulled away from the light. “You all right?”

I nodded. “Uh huh.”

“You sure?”

“I just need to get these wet clothes off.”

Wes drove a little faster, and ten minutes later, we were dashing up the front steps of his townhouse. The rain pelted down on our heads and shoulders and I squealed as it soaked me from the edges of the canopy above his front door.

We stumbled inside and Wes closed the door behind us before slumping heavily against it. His hair was soaking wet, and water dripped from the edge of his nose, but he gave me a charming, lopsided smile. “Welcome to New York.”

I laughed and stripped out of my jacket, scarf, and wet boots. “I like the rain.”

Wes raked his fingers through his hair. The sight of it made my knees practically buckle. I shifted my weight and peeled a second sweater off so that I was down to my jeans and navy-blue T-shirt. It clung to my body in the most uncomfortable way. I’d never been so aware of my nipples before, but it was all I could think about as they pressed up against the inside of my bra. The sensitivity did not help how turned on I was.

Wes pushed off the door. “Come upstairs. I’ll find you something dry to put on. You can have a hot shower too, if you need to.”

I fell into step behind him as he shrugged out of his sports jacket and down to his black T-shirt. I’d never really gotten a good look at his arms or shoulders before, but they were on display now. His shirt clung to every inch of his body and showed off muscles I hadn’t quite expected to find. He was fit as hell.

My body began to ache. It started in my stomach and moved lower, lower, and lower still, until it settled between my thighs and bloomed into a heat I’d never felt before.

We headed up the stairs to the second floor, where we hooked a right and stepped through the doorway into his bedroom. It was a simple space with