Page 135 of Reckless
That night...
The elevator doors have barely shut before Theo opens his mouth and makes me blush.
“I can’t wait to see how fucking pretty you look when you come with my name on your lips.”
The words cause me to suck in a sudden breath. But it doesn’t help me catch my breath because Theo isonme. His fingers are in my hair, palms gripping my head. His lips work over mine, the perfect mix of soft and hard. The perfect tempo for me to find my way and catch up with him.
When I feel his tongue swipe across mine, I whimper. It’s not slobbery, he doesn’t shove it in like he’s conquering my mouth without a thought. He coaxes me into it, makes me want more by tormenting me with never giving enough.
“More,” is all I can verbalize—all I’m comfortable saying.
All I know is I want more. More of this. More of him. More of this feeling.
A growl rumbles from his chest in response, and he pushes his thigh between my legs and shoves me up against the wall. My body jostles, but he doesn’t stop.
He kisses me roughly now, and I kiss him back. His stubble rasps against my skin, abrading my cheeks. My fingers grip his shirt, fisting the fabric and tugging him closer. I want him so much closer.
He smells like tequila, and oranges, and spice. I want to dive headfirst into a pool of that scent. Ofhim.
I grind against his thigh, not caring if it makes me seem desperate. Base. Shameless.
Tonight, I’m all of those things and I’m shedding all the parts of myself that tell me I should care.
The soft white sweater fabric rides up my thighs as I press myself against him.
“Fuck, Winter.” He pulls away and glances down at where I’m riding his leg. Bare skin stretches between the top of the thigh-high socks peeking out from my boots and the disheveled hemline of my sweater dress. “Do that again.”
“What?” I huff, feeling the hot rush of my flaring nerves stain my cheeks.
He doesn’t look at my face. He has one hand fisting my hair while the other toys with the top of my stocking. “That thing with your hips. Ride my leg.”
“Why?”
A knowing grin graces his shapely lips. “Because you look good doing it, and I bet it feels good. Doesn’t it?” His hand slides up the bare stretch of my thigh, going right under the boundary of my dress. A warm, calloused hand grips my ass.
I don’t move. Actually, my lips turn down. My body screams at me to do it because the way I’m holding my hips back from moving is almost painful. But my head is judging me, telling me this isn’t a proper way for me to conduct myself.
And Theo reads me like a fucking book.
“You gonna shed this prissy rich-bitch persona tonight and enjoy yourself? Or do you want me to fuck you politely, like you’re used to? Turn the lights out. Pat you on the head and thank you when I’ve finished, but you haven’t?”
“Fuck you,” I bite out, right as my hips swivel, my clit dragging against the fabric that separates us.
He chuckles, all deep and warm. “Atta girl. Take it. Take what you want, and who gives a fuck what anyone thinks.” His fingers dig into my glute as he moves his forearms, forcing me back and forth on his leg.
I’m panting when the elevator dings. My head flips to the opening doors, like I might get caught with my skirt up, grinding myself on the leg of a man who looks like a god and talks like a porn star.
But then both of his hands are on my ass, and he’s hoisted me up. I squeak as my arms find his neck and he strides out of the elevator, carrying me. Past the table with fake flowers. Past the chair I’m sure no one ever sits in.
“Someone might see us,” I whisper, even though I seriously doubt this small-town hotel is very lively at this time of night.
“Yeah?” He turns, roughly pressing me into a door, jostling the hinges as he plunders my mouth again.
My legs wrap around his waist, and I grind on him again. “Is this you?”
He smiles against my mouth, grinding back into me and rattling the door. “No.”
“Theo!” I hiss, pushing at him.
