Page 33 of Her Hat Trick Daddies
She arches a brow. “And how is that relevant?” Her tone is clipped and cool. But her body? More relaxed and leaning in just a little closer.
“It’s not. Not really. But humor me. Where would it be? And what would it be of?” I’m pushing my luck, and we both know it.
She doesn’t back off, though. Her voice drops just a bit. “I think you’re forgetting that I’m the one asking the questions here.”
“I didn’t forget, darlin’. I just thought I’d get to know you as much as you want to get to know me.” I reach over and gently remove the iPad from her hands, setting it down on the bench. “I can think of a few places a tattoo would look good on you.”
She smirks, eyes lowering for a beat before she glances up at me through her lashes, playful and, if I’m reading her right, a little daring. “I don’t know…”
My cock twitches again.
“Something small,” she murmurs. “Like a crescent moon. With a few stars.” Her fingers drift up and trace lightly over her breastbone. “Over my heart.”
I move closer, eyes locked on those fingers. I remember how soft they felt when we shook hands earlier, and I can only imagine how they’d feel roaming all over my body. Her nails are freshly manicured. And I’d bet good money she has a matchingpedicure. I’m not into feet like David, but hey, I can still appreciate a pretty set of toes. Just like I can appreciate a perfect set of tits, and a plump, round ass.
“Over your heart, huh?” I ask, voice dropping. I reach over, trailing my fingers right where hers just were, brushing over her chest. “You mean right here?”
“Yes,” she breathes, the word gusty.
I feel bolder now.
“I think it’d look good there,” I murmur, sliding my touch lower, tracing the center of her cleavage. “Or even here…” My fingers move to her belly button. “And here.”
She grabs my hand, halting it, her breath shaky. “I don’t think this is supposed to happen during an interview.”
“And I never do this,” I say honestly. “But this? The way you’ve been looking at me? Say the word, and I’ll stop.”
I pull back, but she grabs my hand again and brings it up to her breasts. I cup them instantly, stroking my thumb over one nipple and feeling it harden through her top.
“Yes…” she gasps, her head falling back.
I scoot even closer, kneading gently, voice low against her neck. And there it is. I inhale deeply. The scent of brown sugar curls up from her skin like a memory I never wanted to end—dark, buttery, and just a little dangerous. It’s sweet, yes, but with a rawness beneath it, like caramel left on the heat too long, just seconds from burning. It tempts without trying. Ican’t place it, but fuck, I need it. I needher.“You sure about this?” I ask.
She lifts her head, eyes meeting mine as she licks her lips. “Mmhmm.”
That’s all I need.
She’s so damn sexy. I take her hand and guide it down to the rigid length pressing hard against my pants.
“Impressive,” she whispers with a shaky chuckle.
“You feel what you’re doing to me, darlin’? I don’t know what this is, and frankly, I don't care. Right now, I’m all in.”
Her eyes flutter half-closed, pupils wide. “Tell me something, Andy…”
“Anything for you.”
“Do those doors behind us lock?”
I grin, letting it spread slow and cocky. “They sure as hell do. Stay put.”
I shoot across the room like I’ve got rockets on my back and flip the lock. We never use it. People fly in and out of this locker room like it’s a damn airport, even with half of us walking around in towels. But itdoesexist. So, I’m using it.
I return to her in a flash, cupping her face in my hands. Then one hand slides down to her throat, my fingers curling around it as I pull her to her feet—a little rough, but she melts into it, following my lead without hesitation. Her skin is just as soft as I imagined, and I take a moment to memorize it beneath my thumbs, warm, delicate, perfect.
I shift my grip, sliding to the back of her neck, threading my fingers into her hair. I twist a fistful and tug her head back, forcing her eyes up to mine. Then I kiss her, finally tasting the minty heat of her breath, claiming her mouth with mine. She fits in my hands like she was made for this. Forme.
The hair on the back of my neck rise again, but this time, it feels like permission. And damn, it feels good.
