stabbed at the lift button, raised her head to watch the numbers descend from ten to zero while he studied her.
He wanted her. Now. Wanted to lose himself in her, lose himself in the pleasure of hot, wild sex, lose focus of everything but her.
The doors pinged open. The lift’s interior was a dazzling gold and chrome combination, with mirrors reflecting their images, showing a mixture of excitement and anticipation.
She stepped in, tugged on his hand. ‘You coming?’
These days he always did the right thing, the cautious thing, the sensible, well-thought-out thing. But in that instant, with her eyes insolent and her lips curved into a brazen challenge, he did the thing he’d used to be famous for in his youth.
‘Hell, yeah.’
Without releasing her hand, he stepped into the lift as she stabbed at the twenty-five button, the adrenalin rush of doing something out of character making his head spin faster than the lift’s acceleration.
‘You’re awfully quiet.’
‘Just thinking.’
‘About?’
He pinned her with the glare that made most of his employees quiver.
‘What it is about you that’s so fascinating.’
She batted her eyelashes, her coquette’s smile adorably tempting. ‘I’ll take that as a compliment.’
‘You should.’
‘So, have you figured me out yet?’
He trailed a fingertip down her cheek, tracing the soft curve.
‘I’m getting there.’
His fingertip reached the end of the trail, lingered on her jaw, savouring the soft skin. ‘You’re unique.’
‘And?’
‘And I want to know more.’
The bell pinged again as the doors slid soundlessly open.
‘I want to spend all night discovering more.’
He held his breath as she reached up, hooked a finger under his collar and tugged gently, bringing him tantalisingly close to her kissable lips.
‘That can be arranged.’
CHAPTER THREE
STARR fumbled with the key card to her suite, sliding it through the slot three times before Callum placed his hand over hers.
‘Let me.’
He tried the card again, the tiny button lit green, and she yanked on the handle, stumbled through the door. She was never this gauche, this flustered, but riding up in the elevator with this incredibly sexy man had been pure torture.
They’d barely touched, their hands simply brushing when she’d first punched in her floor, yet the tension between them had been indescribable.
Her skin prickled, her muscles clenched, and her pulse pounded in a rhythm she hadn’t experienced for ages.
She’d been a one-man woman too long. A woman who’d been sadly neglected in the bedroom. A woman who wasn’t terribly impressed with the supposed joys of sex.
Time to reawaken her flirty side.
As he reached out, his steady hand resting firmly in the small of her back, burning a sizzling path straight through the thin silk of her dress, zapping her in places in desperate need of some serious zapping, she could barely restrain herself from launching at him.
‘Come in. Make yourself at home.’
She silently cringed at her moronic, trite welcome, and the corners of his mouth curved upwards, creasing his right cheek with a delectable dimple.
‘I intend to.’
Flinging her sparkly evening bag on the hall table, she trailed her hand along the shiny glass surface, rearranged the fronds of a floral arrangement, fiddled with the miniature alcohol bottles on top of the mini-bar, while he stood just inside the doorway, looking utterly cool and controlled and scrumptious.
Deliberately stilling her hands, she clasped them in front of her before realising how prim that looked, quickly releasing them and settling for propping them on the table behind her.
‘I’m clueless as to the etiquette here. Do I offer you a drink? A chocolate bar? Me?’
His dimple deepened. ‘The last, thanks.’
Her heart leaped, and she clenched the table so tight the mini-bar bottles rocked and rattled. One tumbled.
‘Shaken or stirred?’
Laughing, he stalked towards her. Her pulse accelerated with each step. He stopped inches away from her personal space, his intentions clear in the dark depths of his eyes. The simmering heat sparked a response deep within her.
‘Relax.’
He reached out, ran a fingertip down her bare arm, and she shivered in anticipation.
‘Easy for you to say.’
‘You’re nervous?’
‘A little.’
‘Don’t be.’
The trail of his fingertip ended at her hand and he captured it, intertwined his fingers with hers, giving her a much needed anchor in a suddenly stormy sea of passion.
His hand engulfed hers, strong, capable, and a lick of heat shot up her arm. She searched her scrambled brain for the right words—any words that would sound remotely sane and nothing like ravish me now, I’m yours.
‘I can leave if you want.’
Cue the exit music. Cue the curtain call.
But not before they’d had a rousing performance.
Reaching out with her free hand, she bunched a fistful of his soft cotton shirt and tugged. Hard.
‘I don’t want you to go—’
He crushed his mouth to hers, snatching the rest of her words, the rest of her breath, in an explosion of heat and passion and driving need.
She clung to him, desperate to get closer, elated when he hauled her into his arms and backed her up against the nearest wall.
Wrapping her legs around him, she gasped at the bulge pressing against her core, her pelvis moving of its own volition, eager for more, demanding satisfaction.
‘Oh, yeah,’ she murmured, as he cupped her butt, moved back and forth, rubbing against her, teasing her, making her wild with wanting him.
He
