Page 44 of Dream Chaser
I glance at her. “Sixteen?”
She clears her throat and nods.
“Huh. Me, too.”
As I press the button and the doors begin to close, I see her squirm, just a little, but I see it. As soon as the doors close, the silence becomes something else—charged, trembling, louder than any words.
We don’t even make it past the second floor before it happens.
Her hand grazes mine.Permission.My fingers catch hers, and we turn to face each other at the same damn time.
She reaches up and grips the back of my neck, pulling me down. I’m definitely a leader in the bedroom, but I’ll hand over the reins to her if that’s what it takes.
Then her mouth is on mine, and there is no holding back now.
No hesitation. No asking permission. Only heat, and hunger, and everything that’s been simmering between us since that first damn smirk.
I wrap my hand around the back of her neck and tilt her mouth to mine. She presses in, soft and fierce all at once. Her hands fist my shirt, and I swear I can already feel every ounce of her fire.
She tastes like lime and honey, with a hint of tequila. Like secrets I haven’t earned and promises I don’t deserve. Sweet and bold, a little reckless.
My hands slide into her hair, anchoring her to me. She pushes up on her toes, and I grip her hips and pull her closer. She smells like citrus shampoo and wind-chilled skin. Something sun-warmed and just-washed, tangled up in sugar and sage.
It’s a scent I’d follow blindfolded.
The kiss is hungry. Addictive. Not enough. I need more. So does she.
She gasps against my mouth, and I chase that sexy little sound with my tongue. Her nails bite my shoulders, and I feel her everywhere—in the drag of her lips, the curve of her waist, the low sound she makes when I groan into her mouth.
In the background, the elevator hums, floors pass, yet time wants to stand still.
Five.
Seven.
Ten.
She presses me against the wall, and I let her. Hell, I hope she stays this way—tits pressed against my abs, the warmth of her body, her scent, and taste. My thumb skims her jaw. Her teeth tug my bottom lip.Fuck yes.
Thirteen.
Fourteen.
Fifteen.
We’re still kissing when the bell dings, and we break apart like we’ve been caught doing something wrong as the doors slide open.
The air feels cold when she steps back, breath catching, lipstick slightly smudged. Her eyes locked on mine.
Sixteen floors.
Sixteen fucking floors.
We step out in silence, both turning in the same direction down the hall.
She walks ahead, not looking back. I match her pace.
She stops in front of a door.
