Page 16 of Make the Play

I reach out to toy with the edge of his tie, dragging my gaze up to meet his, feeling an exhale of breath skitter across my cheek.

“Hope you’ve got stamina, Walton.”

Chapter five

All those things? They’re not what I want

Chase

My hotel door barely slams shut before she’s on me.

Zoe stumbles slightly, laughing breathlessly as she grabs the front of my shirt and kicks off her heels, yanking me back down to her mouth.

I should slow this down, should give myself a second. Givehera second.

Instead, I crush my mouth to hers, swallowing her laughter, tasting the remnants of champagne and the sharp twist of gin.

Zoe moans into me, roughly unbuttoning my shirt and sliding her hands over my chest, down my stomach, gripping my belt. My head spins, pulsing with the reality of this moment. I’veimagined this a thousand times. What she’d feel like, how she’d sound when I finally got my hands on her.

And fuck, she’s better.

Fingers slip beneath my waistband, but I grab her, pushing her against the wall and pinning her there with my weight.

Her pulse flutters beneath my palm as I curl my hand lightly around her throat, tilting her chin up. She shouldn’t look at me like this. Wide-eyed and goddamn sinful, lipstick smudged on her parted lips from the last time I kissed her in the elevator. And the hallway. And outside the door.

I tighten my grip just enough to make her feel it. “You in a rush, sweetheart?”

She swallows, the movement pressing against my palm, and then she smiles. Slow and daring.

“Areyou?”

Yes. No. Fuck.

My mouth collides with hers, kissing her with the intention to consume her whole, all heat and hunger and years of wanting. Zoe grabs at me as if she feels the same damn way, fisting my open shirt and pulling me closer, and I realize she’s just as desperate as I am.

I grab her chin as I devour her, teasing her tongue with mine and nipping at her bottom lip. She grinds against me, and I smirk into her mouth.

“That enough tongue for you, Carlson?”

She stills for a moment, and I see her mind whirring back to the conversation we had at the bar when she tried to lie to my face about our first kiss being one of the worst she’s ever had.

She nudges my chest. “Shut the fuck up, Walton.”

My lips curl as my fingers tangle into her hair, tilting her head back, owning the angle and claiming her. I kiss her again until she’s moaning into my mouth, every curve pressing against me. So soft and sweet and completely wrecked.

Tightening my grip, I pin her in place, exactly where I want her. Dragging my mouth along her jaw, my hands skate up the soft satin of her dress, slipping through the sinful slit of fabric and over the bare skin of her thighs until I feel it—lace.

Thin, delicate. Damp.

My exhale is sharp against her throat, fingers curling beneath the waistband as possessiveness slams into me so hard it nearly knocks me flat.

“Fuck.” I press a slow, open-mouthed kiss against her pulse point. “You wear these for me, Zo?”

She lets out a breathless little laugh, shifting against me, grinding up towards my hand.

“Christ, Walton,” she breathes. “Cocky, aren’t you?”

“Nah. Just observant.”

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