Page 56 of The Gentleman

Her arms locked around his neck, fingers buried in his hair, dragging him closer. She met him curve for line, all heat and friction wrapped in silk.

His hands slid down her arms. He caught her wrists, pinning them above her head. She arched into him, her breath catching hot against his jaw.

A puff of white powder stirred between them, rising like smoke from where their bodies met.

He lifted her against the elevator wall, her leg hooking around his hip as she wrapped around him as if they’d been made to fit together exactly this way.

Her pulse thudded under his lips as he dragged his mouth along the line of her throat. He grazed his teeth lightly at the edge of her jaw.

“Leonid—” she gasped, a low, animal sound.

“Ten years.” He spoke against her throat, every word a battle. “Ten years I’ve wanted you. Every. Damn. Day.”

“I know,” she whispered, her fingers locking in his hair. “I’ve wanted you just as long.”

The elevator chimed—a warning and the doors began to slide.

He slammed the button. The panel beeped, the doors re-opened.

He released her wrists, scooped her into his arms.

She clung to him like his touch was the only real thing left in the world—her mouth hot against his neck, her teeth nipping his skin in a way that nearly brought him to his knees.

Ten steps had never felt so endless.

Past the foyer. Down the hall. Into the bathroom.

Words were impossible.

He hit the power button and stepped into the walk-in shower, fully clothed. Hot water exploded from multiple jets, the sudden heat shocking against his skin.

Mist turned the glass opaque, turning the shower into their own private world. Water drummed against the tile with a sound like distant thunder, drowning out everything but their ragged breathing. His tuxedo wool turned heavy and clinging, her silk dress a second skin that left nothing to the imagination.

There was nothing but heat, sensation andher.

He kissed her again, deeper this time, his kiss ferocious with need. He held her against him, his control splintering.

She panted into his mouth, nails digging into the back of his neck. He set her down gently, but his hands shook with restraint.

He slid his jacket off her shoulders—wet fabric surrendering her skin inch by inch. White dust streaked her arms, washed away in chalky ribbons that left her skin glowing under the spray.

He stripped off his shirt, tossed it to the floor. Goosebumps rose on the skin she’d yet to claim, but everywhere she’d touched burned. Every place her body pressed against his marked him.

He turned her gently by the shoulders, found the zipper of her dress and pulled it down slow.

The silk fell.

She stepped out of the fabric puddle and turned to face him, water streaming down her body in paths his eyes helplessly followed. Droplets glistened on her lips, gathered in the hollow of her throat.

Dark navy lace embraced every curve— drenched and nearly translucent. Her nipples peaked through the fabric, and his arousal spiked so hard it hurt.

Her Glock was still strapped to her thigh—stark and lethal against her soft skin. A reminder of exactly who she was. Independent, dangerous and magnificent.

When she unbuckled it and set it down, it wasn’t surrender—it was a choice. Her choice.

She stepped out of her heels.

That gun, that body. All of it. All of her.

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