If it was what he suspected it was, then he was going to make sure she got what she needed again and again.
With a slight lift of his chin, he invited her to come to him.
He was either dead, dreaming, or witnessing a miracle, because she came to him. And she kept coming until her body was nearly against his.
Once she was inside, he moved his arm and allowed the elevator doors to close, cocooning them in privacy.
“Heard you were looking for me.”
“I was,” she said softly. “Looks like I found you.”
Holy hell, that look. He couldn’t even begin to comprehend what that look did to him. Every ounce of confidence he’d lost, the mistakes and the failures, the disappointment he’d been to so many—it all just ceased to matter.
His whole damn world hung in the delicate balance of that look.
Because he knew now that she still saw him. She still looked at him and saw that man she’d convinced him he could be, the one she trusted, had faith in, and believed was worthy of her.
“So you did. What can I do for you, sweetheart?”
Desire-drenched need flashed in those eyes of hers. “I think you know, Trace. I think you’ve always known.”
He forced his throat to swallow. His hands twitched. As did his dick.
Apparently Kylie Ryans had decided to test him and see if he meant all those dirty things he’d said to her on the bus. It looked like she was about to call his bluff. He’d told himself a million times that if he ever got another shot, he would be careful with her. He would take it slow. Do things in the right order.
But each floor they rose, each breath of hers that he breathed in, his self-control dissipated. Inch by inch, layer by layer, until it was a thin vapor he could no longer grasp onto.
“How are you feeling? Earlier you gave everyone quite a—”
“I’m fine, Trace,” she assured him. “More than fine.”
She took a step closer even though there wasn’t really any more space to move into. He gave up on restraining himself and pulled her to him. What the hell, he figured. All of his cards were already showing anyways.
“I might not be able to take it slow, Kylie Lou. It won’t be gentle or sweet like you deserve. I might…hurt you.”
God he didn’t want to hurt her if he could fucking help it. He wanted to please her, give her a pleasure so deep and undeniable she’d never even think of anyone besides him being inside her.
“Maybe I don’t want it to be gentle or sweet,” she breathed against his skin. “I can take it. I think…I think I want it to hurt.”
Fuck me. He was a goner.
Her fingers slid up his chest as her lips brushed the stubble on his chin. He bent down and wrapped his hands under her ass as tightly as he could. Lifting her onto his waist, he slammed her against the wall of the elevator hard enough to rattle the whole damn thing.
He groaned as she pressed herself against the rock-hard ridge in his pants. He heard her sweet surprised gasp as she took in a breath.
“Feel that, baby?” he hissed through his teeth.
The whimper that escaped her lips in response said hell yeah she felt it. She gripped the hair at the nape of his neck hard enough to make his eyes water as she nipped and licked his earlobe. Her thighs flexed around him and he groaned in anticipation of her tight heat. He couldn’t wait to get inside her. To give her every single inch of himself.
His hands raked up her hips and back. Her thick, blond curtain of hair surrounded him. He was drowning in her and drinking her in, breathing her in, every way that he could.
He was about to hit the emergency stop button and fuck her in that very elevator when the chime sounded and the door opened. Taking a second to catch his breath, he set her down as gently as he could manage and pulled her by the hand toward his room.
“Come on, baby,” he said, squeezing her hand as they made their way down the hallway together.
“Trace,” she said, lust dripping from the needful ache in her tone.
“Yeah, Kylie Lou?” he rasped when they reached his door.
“I need you. I need you so bad.” Her voice broke, as if she might be about to cry. She’d been strong for so long. He knew good and well how much it had hurt her to confess her need.
He planned to soothe that pain and that need. Soon. He turned and pressed his forehead to hers and closed his eyes. “I know. I know you do, pretty girl. You have me.”
HE DIDN’T kiss her on the mouth until they were safely locked in his room. But the door had barely closed behind her when she gripped his arms so hard he wondered if there’d be bruises. He fucking hoped so.
His mouth descended onto hers and his knees went weak. His tongue dipped inside to taste her. She tasted like bourbon. Son of a bitch.