Page 86 of Long Shot

She smiles. “That’s good. Have you heard of pheromone parties?”

“Um, no.” We all respond negatively.

“People wear a T-shirt for three days then bring it to the party. They put the shirt into marked bags and everyone sniffs the T-shirts to find one that’s attractive to them.”

“Hmm.” Carrie taps her chin. “Should we host a pheromone party at Conquistadors?”

“No.” All three men speak at once.

Reese grins. “It’s an interesting idea and it has some merit. Honestly, if you don’t like how someone smells, how are you going to spend time with them?”

“Right?” Carrie bobs her head.

I like how Reese smells. Sometimes when she comes out of the kitchen, she’s self-conscious about smelling like grease or garlic, but it doesn’t bother me, and even fresh out of the shower, her skin holds a scent I find irresistible. Addicting. So yeah . . . I believe in pheromones.

“So no wonder champagne makes you frisky,” Hayden says.

I meet Reese’s eyes, which sparkle with amusement and . . . yes, heat. I lift an eyebrow.

She nods. Without saying a word she’s telling me that the champagne is making her frisky, too.

Fucking awesome.

Reese

“I love the way you smell.” I press my nose to the side of Cade’s neck and breathe him in.

“Oh, yeah . . . me, too. Love the way you smell everywhere . . .”

I push up to sit, straddling him, back arching, head falling back. Behind me I grab Cade’s thighs. Flat on his back in the bed beneath me, Cade powers his hips up into me, his thumb circling my clit. I cry out again as sensation lashes through me, his cock thrusting up into me, so deep, setting every sensitive nerve ending inside me on fire. Heat spreads through my body, and all my inner muscles squeeze.

“Fuck, yeah,” Cade growls. “Ride me, babe.”

My breasts bounce as our bodies slam together, and he lifts his free hand to squeeze one, his other hand still working my clit. I whimper, watching his taut face, sensation coiling tighter inside me. “Oh, God.”

The tightening inside me winds up higher . . . higher . . . and I let out a low groan as I strain for it, wanting that ultimate peak. There it is, yes . . . I cry out as I come in long ripples of exquisite pleasure, one of Cade’s hands between my legs, the other cupping my breast. I give a few more small whimpers.

“Squeeze me hard,” he mutters. “Fuck, that’s good.”

Then he rolls up to sitting, grabs my hips, and in a fast movement swings me onto my back and beneath him. I love his strength and control.

He enters me again, on his knees between my thighs, driving into my still tender pussy with hard strokes. Hands at my knees, he lifts my legs and stares down at me with scorching intensity as he fucks me, hard. I gaze back at him, the bed bouncing with every lunge. I’m still coming, the continued pressure inside me prolonging the ecstasy, a burning sensation moving over my clit.

“Beautiful,” he rasps out. “So fucking beautiful.”

Our eyes meet and hold and then he groans, his head tipping back, and he holds himself deep inside me, all throbbing heat and pressure. His fingers might be leaving bruises on my legs where he holds me, but I don’t care. I love how this man, always in control, comes apart and loses his mind when he’s with me.

“Christ, Reese.” He falls over me, taking his weight on his elbows, but still his big body is a delicious pressure on me. He buries his face in the side of my neck, his breathing rough. “Christ. You fucking amaze me.”

I wrap my arms around him, hands smoothing up and down his damp flesh, and open my mouth on his big shoulder in a long, slow kiss. I close my eyes as emotions churn up inside me.

I’m not supposed to care this much.

I’ve been feeling so good lately, but my life is still a mess. I’m still running away. I still have a life in New York—my apartment, my friends, my family. I have no job, but New York is where I need to be to build my career. This is a temporary thing, a place to come and heal. But I’ve made friends . . . I have people who care about me here, people I care about . . . especially Cade. And when I decide to leave it’s going to be awful.

Maybe I should leave now.

“Reese!” Tony calls to me. “There’s a guest out front who wants to speak to the chef.”

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