Page 147 of Don't Go Breaking My Heart
“Now.”
I lift my napkin, dab the corners of my mouth like I’m not seconds from combusting, and stand. Slowly. Deliberately. His eyes track every movement like they’re starving.
As I turn and walk away, hips swaying with intention, I don’t have to look back to know he’s following.
I canfeelhim.
And as I hit the elevator button with one manicured finger, I hear him come up behind me, close enough that his breath grazes my shoulder.
“Touch me in the elevator and you lose the game.”
He leans in, voice ragged. “Baby, if I make it through the next thirty seconds without touching you, I deserve a fucking trophy.”
turner
. . .
The second the elevator doors close, we’re on each other.
No words. No restraint. Just lips crashing, hands grabbing, and her back slamming into the wall like we’ve both been holding this in for way too long.
Which we have.
She gasps into my mouth, and I groan—because when my hands slide down her hips and under the hem of that tiny fucking dress, I’m met with bare skin.
No underwear.
Jesus. Fucking.
Christ.
My dick throbs, pulsating and desperate to sink into the slick heat I’ve missed so much. Hot. Wet.
So wet.
My palm slides over her butt cheek, gripping, one of my fingers easing into her from behind as our mouths crash together again, messy and gasping.
She moans into me—high-pitched and helpless—and I don’t think. I act.
My other hand slams against the emergency stop button. The elevator jolts to a halt with a mechanical groan, lights steady but the silence around us somehow louder.
No movement.
No interruption.
Poppy pulls back just enough to breathe, her lips slick, pupils blown wide. Her chest heaves against mine, that little black dress hiked so far up it’s basically a shirt.
“I can’t wait,” I mutter against her mouth, my hand still working between her thighs. “I can’t fucking wait, Poppy—I can’t.”
I’ve been waiting for her since she moved out.
Left me.
“Then don’t,” she pants, head tipping back. “Just fuck me.” She fumbles at my waistband, fingers shaking with need. “Why are your pants still on?”
Every brush of her fingers, every accidental graze of skin, feels like it might undo me completely.
I am so fucking hard; I feel like I’m vibrating with it.
