Total pages in book: 35
Estimated words: 31579 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 158(@200wpm)___ 126(@250wpm)___ 105(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 31579 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 158(@200wpm)___ 126(@250wpm)___ 105(@300wpm)
This simple touch says, 'I'm here. Stay with me.'
So I do.
When the mixer starts to wind down, he keeps his hand linked with mine, and we head towards the elevators. I'm exhausted, but the second the elevator doors slide closed in front of us, that exhaustion evaporates and turns into something else entirely. It's just Drake and me in this small space, holding hands, the very recent memory of our kiss making my lips tingle.
He doesn't break eye contact as he pushes the button for our floor, and the elevator lurches into action.
"That went … well," I offer, wondering which of us is supposed to pull our hands away first.
"Well enough anyway," he agrees. "I think we scared Kate off pretty good."
I smile at that. "Good. Maybe she'll finally get the hint."
I've said too much. His eyes flick down to mine, and my stomach swoops.
"Good, eh?" he repeats slowly, a hint of a smile on his lips. "I'll have to improve my technique if that's all the praise I'm getting from you."
The elevator doors open, and he steps out, tugging me behind him. I'm grateful for the cool air in the hallway. It chases some of the fog from my head, making it a little easier to think. He leads me to our door and fishes out the key card. My eyes linger on the place where his shirt gapes open, giving me a glimpse of his chest. He catches me staring, and my face heats.
"You're being awfully quiet," he observes, his eyes darkening.
"I don't have anything to say."
He pushes the door open and gestures for me to go ahead. "That's not true. You always have something to say."
I don't have a comeback for that. He's right. But I don't have anything to say now because I'm so distracted by his presence. It feels like the air is charged, like anything could happen in here, and the thought fills me with anticipation.
I kick off my heels, my back to him. I'm trying to find some semblance of control again. Then we're face to face with the single bed in the room, and I'm struggling to catch my breath again.
"I'll take the couch," he says after a moment, his voice low.
I nod, looking down at my feet, suddenly shy. I feel the heat of his body as he comes closer. He hooks a finger under my chin and tilts my head up. When our eyes meet, my knees go weak.
"Thank you for tonight, Ellie." His voice is soft, a contrast to his rough appearance. "You really saved my ass."
"Anytime," I whisper, trying to mean it.
He leans down to kiss me on the cheek, and my eyes flutter shut. I turn my head at the last second so his lips graze mine instead. His breath hitches, and my heart starts pounding so loudly I'm sure he can hear it.
We're frozen for a long moment, eyes locked. Then he's kissing me, his hands cupping my jaw, tilting my head back. His touch is gentle, but his kiss is rough. My stomach tightens.
It's just a kiss. It doesn't mean anything, I try to tell myself. But then his tongue slips between my lips, and my mind goes blank.
I've never been kissed like this before. He kisses me like he needs it. Like he can't get enough of me. It's thrilling. I reach up, knotting my hands in his shirt and holding him against me. His body is hard and warm, and when I run my hands down his chest, his muscles ripple under my palms.
My hands drift lower, exploring the ridges of his abs as I work the buttons open. I'm so distracted by the feel of him that I don't notice he's walking us backward until my knees hit the bed. Then we're falling. He breaks the kiss and looks down at me, his breathing ragged.
"Ellie, I..." His voice is hoarse. His eyes are so dark that they almost look black. He trails off, shaking his head.
"What?" I ask breathlessly. I reach up to smooth his messy hair away from his forehead, but he catches my hand.
"Don't start something you can't finish."
My stomach tightens. Is that what I'm doing? I don't even know. All I know is that I want him. I want more of him.
"I’m not a quitter," I whisper.
He stares at me and then groans. "Fuck."
He kisses me again, rough and fierce, making my toes curl. His hands roam down my body, squeezing and cupping, and then he grips my thighs and pulls me closer so that he's settled between my legs. He's already hard, and I gasp at the feel of him pressing against me.
His kiss grows hungrier, and I can't get enough of him. My hands slide under his shirt, desperate to feel his bare skin. My fingers ghost over the ridges of his abs and his chest. There is not an inch of his perfect body that isn’t muscled and toned from the hours and hours on rock walls, and finally, getting to touch what I’ve only been able to stare at is such a sweet relief. Drake groans at my touch, giving me the slightest shiver as I stroke his bronzed skin, and it makes me feel powerful.