Page 51 of Dial L for Lawyer
"Evening, Mr. Kingsley. Ma'am."
I look at the open door. Look at Serena beside me, her hand in mine, pulse visible at her throat. Look at the Four Seasons literally across the street.
"Take the rest of the night off."
His professional expression doesn't change, but I swear I catch something knowing in his eyes. "Sir?"
"Go home. I'll call you tomorrow."
"Very good, sir."
He closes the door, gets in the driver's seat, and pulls away. Serena watches the car disappear.
"Your driver thinks we're?—"
"I don't give a fuck what he thinks." I turn her to face me, hands on her waist. "I can't sit in a car for fifteen minutes pretending I'm not dying to touch you."
"Caleb—"
"The Four Seasons is right there. Or we can wait, call my driver back, do this properly?—"
She grabs my tie and pulls me down.
The first touch of her lips shorts out my brain entirely. Months of wanting, of imagining, of jerking off to the memory of her in my arms at the gala—none of it prepared me for this. She tastes like wine and possibility and every bad decision I want to make. Her mouth is soft but her kiss isn't. It's demanding, desperate, six months of regret compressed into the slide of lips and tongue.
I groan against her mouth, spinning her so her back hits the brick wall of Georgio’s exterior. My hands frame her face, holding her still so I can kiss her the way I've been dying to, deep and thorough. A fucking claiming right here on the street where anyone can see she's mine.
She makes a sound that goes straight to my cock, her fingers tangling in my hair, pulling me closer. Her tongue meets mine and I swear I see stars. Every professional thought, every boundary, every reason this is complicated—gone. There's just Serena, warm and willing and kissing me like the world is ending.
"Fuck," I breathe when we finally break apart. Her lipstick is smeared, her pupils blown wide. "Serena?—"
"Hotel," she gasps. "Now. Before I let you take me against this wall."
The image that puts in my head nearly brings me to my knees. "Christ."
"Can you make it across the street, or should I?—"
I kiss her again, quick and hard. "Move. Now. While I still have some control."
"Control is overrated," she says, but she's already pulling me toward the Four Seasons.
"You say that now. Wait until we're in that room."
The Four Seasons lobby is a blur of marble and concerned concierge faces. I slam my black card on the counter hard enough to make the clerk jump.
"Room. Now. Whatever you have."
"Of course, Mr. Kingsley." The desk clerk's fingers fly over the keyboard, professionally ignoring how Serena's pressed against my back, her breath hot through my shirt. "We have a suite available on the?—"
"Perfect. Key."
"Sir, I need to?—"
"Bill whatever. Add twenty percent for the urgency." I'm already pulling Serena toward the elevators. "Send the key to my phone."
The elevator doors close and I have her against the wall before she can breathe. My mouth finds her neck, teeth grazing a spot below her ear that makes her whole body shiver and moan.
"Caleb," she gasps, arching against me. "There might be cameras?—"
