Page 9 of Mr. Wrong
Yes.
This kiss is just as slow but there’s a desperate undercurrent that threatens to pull me under with each stroke of his tongue against mine. A wild heat that scorches its way down my spine, settling deep and low in my belly.
Finally pulling his mouth away with a low-throated groan, he gives me a lop-sided smile that seems to be at total odds with what I’m seeing in his eyes. “Better?”
“Yes. Thank you.” I nod my head and try not to be mortified by my response. Instead of laughing at me, he leans in and gives me another kiss, this one barely more than a soft press of lips against the corner of my mouth.
“You’re so goddamned adorable,” he murmurs, his mouth sliding from my mouth to my cheek. From my cheek to the soft spot right below my earlobe. “It’s almost a shame…”
“Shame?” I tilt my head, offering my neck to the soft brush of his lips. “What’s a shame?”
His gaze finds mine again, the blue of his eyes dark in the moonlight. “I’m going to corrupt you, Ellenore.” The hand wrapped around the back of my neck squeezes gently, the feel of his fingers gripped against my flesh sending a shiver through me. “I’m going to do things to you...” The thumb pressed against the side of my throat sweeps over the pulse that pounds, hard and heavy, under my skin. “So, say the word and we’ll get back on my bike and I’ll take you home.”
I know that I should. I know I’m not ready for whatever he’s about to do to me. That Lex is once-in-a-lifetime. A blue-eyed mistake, just waiting to happen
But he’s a mistake I’m dying to make.
“If I didn’t know better…” I shake my head, tilting it ever so slightly to deepen the press of his thumb against my throat. “I’d say you’re trying to scare me away.”
“I don’t want you scared, Ellenore.” His gaze drops to my mouth, the heat of it searing my lips. “I want you prepared for what’s going to happen the second I get you behind closed doors.”
He looks like a hapless beach bum—an off-the-charts hot, ridiculously sexy beach bum but in his faded jeans and tousled blond hair he looked normal. Almost harmless.
There is nothing hapless or harmless about the way Lex is looking at me now. A look that reminds me that, other than the fact that he rides a motorcycle and smells absolutely fantastic, I know nothing about him. A look that tells me Ishouldbe scared. Ishouldbe running away.
Instead, I give him a puzzled smile. “I thought all you Christian Grey types were supposed to be billionaire CEOs that drive Maybaches and wear Armani suits.”
That earns me a laugh. “Sorry to disappoint…” The thumb pressed against the side of my neck makes a soft, lazy sweep against my jugular, stirring my blood. Making it hard to breathe. “But trust me, I don’t have to tie you up to make you do what I want, Ellenore.” His laughter trails off and he leans in close, his lips warm against my ear. “Last chance to run away.”
I’m quaking in my low-tops. My knees are the consistency of jello and my heart is beating so fast I’m expecting it to burst like a balloon at any moment.
But, despite the fact that I’m five seconds away from a full-fledged panic-attack, running away is the last thing I want to do.
Six
Lex
It’s beena long time since I’ve wanted a woman this much. To be honest, I don’t remember ever feeling this desperate to get inside someone before. Most of the time I fuck women out of either blind boredom or sheer necessity.
And neverhere.
My brother keeps a suite at the Four Seasons for shit like this. He’s insanely disciplined when it comes to women. Appearances are very important to him. Almost as important as security. When he finds out I brought a strange woman home, he’s probably going to throw my ass out.
Which is fine.
He fired me, which basically means I have no way to pay my way around here and I’d rather live in a dumpster than become a fucking Kato. So, yeah. I’m about twelve hours away from homelessness. Might as well use them wisely.
Shoving the thought aside, I focus on the woman in front of me.
Ellenore.
I basically just told her that I have every intention of dragging her inside and fucking her to death. That if she had the sense God gave a tree stump, she’d be running for her life.
She isn’t running.
She’s waiting, and despite everything I just said to her, I don’t want her to run. I think I might chase her if she tried. Switching tracks, I let the hand around her neck slide across her shoulder and down her arm. Finding her hand, I lace my fingers through hers. “Come on.” Giving her a tug, I’m more relieved than I should be when she follows me without protest.
Fingers still intertwined, I lead her through the ivy-covered gate and under a vine-laced arbor. Down a slab stone walkway, along the side of the main house. When we step into the backyard, she gives a small gasp that makes me smile.
