Page 34 of August

His mouth came down on hers, silencing her pitiful cries. Wave after wave of ecstasy crashed through her as she rode the current of her orgasm. Her insides throbbed around his large fingers, which stretched her with each pulse of his hand.

Ever so slowly her breath evened, and August synced his fingers with the ebbing ripples of pleasure. Her muscles went slack, and his mouth moved from hers to kiss her cheek then her neck. He peeled his hand away and brought his soaked fingers to his lips.

He sucked off the moisture, his eyes dark and lust filled.

Her belly bottomed out with desire, but before she could react, he leaned away and punched the button marked 23.

CHAPTER 11

Hunger spiraled through August as he waited for the elevator to reach their floor.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

He should’ve kept his mouth shut in the car. Now he had Gigi’s hot sweet scent all over him, the taste of her mouth, slightly minty, still on his tongue. Goddamn.

Her body was still close, her hand flat on his abdomen as if she didn’t want to let him go. He needed out of this fucking box. He needed to pace the floor, to remind himself of all the reasons getting inside Gigi was a bad idea because right now he couldn’t think of a single one.

He’d kissed her. That much he’d intended—to gauge her reaction. To see if she’d pull away, if she’d finally straight-out tell him to take a hike. But Christ, she hadn’t. And he hadn’t been prepared for her to respond to that degree.

She’d anchored his mouth to hers, had tangled her little tongue around it like she’d done to his cock in the shower two years ago. And now—now he was in a big fucking mess.

He either had to backpedal really quickly or go all in.

There was no in between.

Gigi hadn’t said a word, probably sensing his turmoil. A glance at her hand on his dark-blue shirt reminded him how much smaller she was. How much more fragile.

Kissing her might’ve been a bigger mistake than leaving her two years ago with unfinished business.

Ding!

The elevator door opened and August scanned the hallway before scooping up the bags and motioning Gigi ahead of him. They made their way down the teal-and-gold paisley carpet. The scent of lemon disinfectant hung in the air.

“At the end of the hall. Number 2308.”

Gigi glided down the corridor and stopped at their suite. August lowered his duffel, fished the keys out of his pocket, and opened the door.

Gigi walked inside and August entered behind her. Dropping their bags, he shut and then locked the door. “Wait here a sec.” He pulled out his Glock from his waistband and quickly swept the two-bedroom unit.

Once every inch of the space had been searched, he made his way back to the front door, where Gigi stood, hands clasped in front of her.

Her eyes met his. He’d expected her to still be heavy-lidded with desire, but instead, fire sparked from her hazel orbs.

“Care to tell me what that was about?” she demanded, propping her hands on her hips.

August picked up his duffel and passed her the backpack. “We’ve got two rooms here. Both have their own bathroom. Take your pick.”

Her nostrils flared. “Are you seriously ignoring me?”

Christ. He was acting like a coward, and leave it to Gigi to call him on his shit. He dragged a hand through his hair. He’d barely had the chance to process what’d happened in the elevator. How the fuck was he supposed to explain it to her?

“I’m not ignoring you.” His tone was flat, but he strived for patience. “And for the record, you didn’t tell me to stop.”

Her mouth popped open and then shut. “Oh, so it was a mistake? You didn’t mean to touch me? Didn’t want to kiss me?”

He closed his eyes for a beat. He’d gotten himself into this mess. Couldn’t keep his hands or mouth to himself. The truth was he’d been sunk the moment he answered her call.

A muscle in his jaw jumped. He didn’t want to fight. Sure as hell didn’t want to turn the kiss into something they both regretted. But he also couldn’t act like shit was fine.

---