Sinful Love (Sinful Nights #4) - Lauren Blakely Page 0,13
be charging in that direction. Good. He was no fool anymore, and he was hardly romantic. He had the distinct impression life had hardened her, too.
And that tonight she wanted hardness from him.
The sound of clinking glasses echoed from many feet away. The noise jarred him, and he pulled apart from her briefly. He swept her hair away from her face then bent his head to her ear. “Where are you staying?”
“Across the street. The Cosmopolitan,” she said, her voice like a torch song.
“Do you want to leave? With me?”
Her lips parted, and he felt her soft breath on his neck. He pulled back to look into her green eyes. In them, he saw a lust that matched his, but a fear, too.
“Yes,” she said, but in a second she shook her head. Then she nodded and said, “No.”
Opposites. Okay, maybe she didn’t want the same thing.
She sighed. “I mean…”
He pressed his finger to her lips. No way was he pushing her into this. He wanted Annalise with a fierceness he hadn’t felt in ages, but she was either in it all the way or not at all. “It’s okay. It’s good to see you.”
“Is that it? You’re just leaving?” she said, her voice angry.
He pretended to look around. “Did I say I was leaving? Did I get up to go? I’m still here.”
“I’m sorry. This is just…”
“You don’t have to explain anything.”
“I know. But I don’t want you to think I don’t want to.”
“Do you want to?”
“Yes, but it’s been a…” She didn’t finish her thought, and he didn’t push. Changing gears, she said, “It’s late. I’m shooting tomorrow. Do you want to come by?”
“Visit you at a lingerie shoot?”
“You always used to come by my shoots.”
“You shot bands. The soccer team. The pep rallies,” he said, reminding her of her days as a yearbook photographer.
“And now I shoot beautiful women. Do you like beautiful women?”
His lips twitched, and he eyed her from head to toe. “Very much.”
“Come by,” she said, her fingers darting out quickly to touch his cheek for a moment. “I want to see you again before I go.”
He swallowed dryly, but didn’t ask when she was leaving. He’d rather linger on the feeling of her hand on his face instead.
“Give me the time and place.”
She told him where, then added, “Tomorrow at one. You can see the end of the shoot, and maybe we can…”
Her words went unfinished.
Whatever she meant, he wasn’t in the business of filling in her thoughts. All he knew was one taste wasn’t nearly enough to forget her.
CHAPTER SIX
The elevator was too loud, too bright, too full of people.
As the couple in the far corner waxed on about their dinner of small plates and the fratty guys by the number pad debated how many more shots they could plow through, Annalise asked herself how long she could wait.
She’d been on ice, cryogenically frozen in a state of suspended animation for two years. Her body was still working, going through the motions. One foot in front of the other.
But inside? Beneath her skin?
All those parts had been dormant.
Turned off.
Now, she was turned all the way on. She was like one of those blow-up balloons in an old cartoon, shooting through the air, ready to pop. She was sure everyone in the elevator saw the desire written all over her skin. But as the car shot up past the tenth, eleventh, and twelfth floors, they continued in their own worlds.
She wanted her own world now. She wanted to live in the bubble of lust.
The elevator stopped on the fourteenth floor, and the couple exited. The trio of guys remained, and the tall one in the crew once again stabbed the silver button for the penthouse. “They’ll be here soon. C’mon.”
Hookers?
She almost breathed it aloud.
Instead, she covered her mouth with her hand, her fingers touching her greedy lips. But that was stupid. Because that only made her want to touch herself more. She couldn’t help it. She dragged her index finger once across her top lip.
Like a match to a flame, it reignited her. My God, those kisses. Her lips were bruised with Michael’s mouth. He’d imprinted himself on her, and she felt him everywhere—on her skin, inside her organs, and deep in the dark, protected corners of her heart.
And yes, most exquisitely, between her legs.
“Vite, vite,” she muttered to herself.
If she’d stayed a moment longer at the club, she’d have grabbed his hand and dragged him to the restroom. Even the return to