Take the Chance (Top Shelf Romance #9) - Brittainy Cherry Page 0,307

the moment the hotel room door shut behind us, he pushed me back against it. My evening bag hit the floor.

His mouth covered mine, his tongue driving between my lips as his fingers hitched my dress up to my hips. He groaned when he realized I’d told the truth, running his palms down over my bare ass and up the sides of my thighs. I pushed at his jacket, forgetting about taking my time to undress him and thinking only about what was beneath the layers of dress clothes. I needed to feel his bare skin on mine, needed those hard muscles flexing above me, needed his power and strength and size to overwhelm me.

He let his jacket fall to the ground and my fingers fumbled with the knot in his tie. But it was hard to concentrate because he moved one hand between my legs and his touch paralyzed me—he slid his fingers back and forth along the slick seam at my center and circled them gently over my clit. I finally got the damn knot to come loose just as he slipped two fingers inside me, and I clutched his shoulders, melting against him.

“I want to be right here.” His voice was low and raw and intense. He pushed his fingers deep.

“Yes,” I whimpered, riding his hand. “I want you there.” I ran my palm over the bulge in his pants, wishing I could rip that gorgeous suit to shreds with my teeth like a wolf. God, I’d missed this feeling, this side of myself. Letting it take over was a relief and a pleasure and a high better than any I could imagine.

Jack dropped down and buried his face between my thighs, his tongue swirling over my clit. My legs trembled, and he slung one then the other over his broad shoulders. Then he stood up, my back sliding up the door, my hands flattening on the ceiling. Holy fuck, he was strong! Holding me there on his shoulders, his hands gripping my waist, he sucked my clit, flicking it with his tongue until I was writhing and gasping and making so much noise, I was positive the people in the elevator could hear us, no matter what floor they were on. Probably the people in the lobby too, and maybe even the people still at the DIA.

And yes—I screamed his name and begged for more.

He set me on the floor and I went at him like a cyclone, yanking off his tie and shirt and shoving down his pants. After wriggling out of my shoes and dress, I pushed him backward into the room and onto the bed, where I dragged off the rest of his clothes. Climbing onto his body, I straddled his hips, took his dick in my hand, and rubbed the tip between my legs. “You don’t know how much I missed this.”

“You’re fucking crazy if you think that,” he said, groaning as I slid onto him. His hands moved to my breasts, his thumbs flicking my nipples.

I bit my lip as I took him in deep and rocked my hips over his. He sat up, his mouth closing over one tight, hard peak, his fingers pinching the other. He sucked and bit and teased, lifting his hips to match my rhythm, both of us moving faster and faster. When he said my name, I knew he was close.

“Jack,” I whispered. “I want you on top.”

In two seconds, he’d flipped me onto my back and covered my body with his. Yes, yes, yes, I thought as his weight pinned my hips to the bed, as his cock drove deep and hard, as the muscles of his arms and chest and back and ass worked beneath my roving hands. I loved the gravity of him, the power he wielded, the punishing thrust of his hips. I loved the growl in his voice, the sweat on his skin, the roughness of his hands in my hair. I loved that he’d come here for me, that he wanted me in his life, that he was willing to make such drastic changes to have me.

And as all the coiled-up tension in our bodies released in powerful, rippling contractions that stopped our breath and stole our sight and splintered every last wall between us, somehow I knew in my heart and soul that I would love this man forever.

I would heal him, cherish him, adore him. I would believe in him, support him, work with him. He would