Her breath catches in her throat. She swallows audibly.
I see the tremble in her body. Her eyes are on my lips.
Then, I don’t think. I just act.
I kiss her.
I kiss her for every day I have been away from her. For every single moment I have needed to kiss her and not being able to. I am taking everything I can from her because I don’t know how long this moment will last. How long she will let me have her. I just need her to know how much I want her. How much I have missed her.
So much for taking my time with her. But then again, I have never been good with waiting.
My patience these last seven months, and my lack of patience now, is a testament to how much I want her.
Backing her against the wall, loving the feel of her fingers gripping my shirt, I blindly reach for the elevator buttons. Eyes quickly leaving her, I find the emergency stop button and press it.
“I have missed you,” I say low against her mouth.
“I’ve missed you, too,” she whispers.
Hearing those words from her mouth…that is when I lose my shit.
I devour her mouth, like she is the force I need to survive. I am starting to wonder if she actually is.
Her hands slide up my chest, nails scratching up my neck, curling into the hair at the nape of my head. I lick the inside of her mouth, loving the little moans of gratification in her throat. Pressing harder against her, I slide my leg between hers. She presses against me, squirming with need.
I am blinded by lust. Blinded by my complete need for her that I don’t care where we are. I just know that I need to be inside her.
So you can imagine my absolute fucking disappointment when my hand reaches her thigh, my fingers skimming that soft skin of hers, and I feel her hand on mine, stopping me.
“I want nothing more than this, with you, right now,” she pants against my mouth. “But Jett will be coming down soon, and he’ll worry if we’re not there.”
I squeeze my eyes shut, pressing my forehead to hers.
She is right.
“Okay.” I breathe heavily, still desperate for her. “Just give me a minute to calm down.”
She presses her smiling lips against mine again.
“Not helping,” I grumble.
She giggles, and I fucking love the sound.
With Superman strength, I somehow manage to move away from her. I press my back against the wall opposite her. Seeing her lipstick smeared around her mouth, knowing I did that, gives me utter satisfaction.
“You might want to fix your lipstick.” I grin.
Getting her compact from her purse and opening it, she grimaces at her reflection and then starts to fix her lipstick. She puts her compact away and walks toward me. I can’t take my eyes off of her.
“You have lipstick on your mouth.” Reaching her hand up, she wipes it away with a tissue.
Her touch makes my heart pound in my chest.
“Ready?” She takes a step back and flicks a glance down to my now semihard cock.
I raise an eyebrow. “Kind of.”
She lets out a light laugh as she reaches out and presses the button, starting the elevator.
“India…” I rasp her name over my tongue. “Just so you know, this isn’t over, not by a fucking long shot.” I gesture between us. “I intend to finish that kiss.”
She bites down on the corner of those freshly painted lips. “I look forward to it.”
“THIS ISN’T OVER, NOT BY A FUCKING LONG SHOT. I intend to finish that kiss.”
Okay, well, that’s what he said, but I haven’t seen anything since.
No more kissing.
He literally hasn’t laid a hand on me since that night in the elevator, and that was two days ago.
If I didn’t believe my own sanity, I’d almost think the elevator kiss never happened.
Immediately after we were at dinner with Jett, Leandro saw us back to our room like a perfect gentleman. Then, we had breakfast with him on Saturday morning.
But we didn’t see Leandro at all after that, except for when he was in his car on the track, qualifying. He qualified lower, at sixth, which was surprising for him—not that I know much about Formula 1, except for that it’s long but kind of exciting. But I’ve been trying to keep up, and Jett’s been guiding me through.
I could imagine that Leandro wasn’t happy about qualifying so low.
Even still, it was a real privilege to watch him out there, knowing that I had a helping hand in getting him back in a car. I’m trying not to think too hard on the fact that I used to be his therapist because it reminds me that, no matter how I feel for him, in so many ways, we are impossible.
Even still, that kiss has been driving me to distraction. I want more. I want him.
The rational side of my brain isn’t in play at the moment. Every time I have a rational thought about what a bad idea pursuing anything with him is, memories of that kiss come back, running through my head like his hands did over my skin, and I’m right back to being irrational, wanting him.