As if she could feel the heat and awareness rising between them, she glanced back out at the view. "You don't miss having a regular house?"
"Not really," he admitted, only because having a condo was more convenient and practical at this stage in his life. "This is close to work, I have all the amenities I need including a pool and gym, and I don't have to worry about a yard to maintain."
"Spoken like a true bachelor." She gave him a sidelong glance. "Who knew you'd become such a city boy."
He shrugged. "What can I say? I love everything about Chicago. The energy, the culture, how everything feels larger than life."
She visibly shuddered, but she was smiling at him. "And that's all the reasons I hate the city."
He chuckled, because, yes, her severe dislike of Chicago had been well established. As they stared at one another and her smile faded away, he reached out and dragged the pad of his thumb along her soft cheek and didn't hold back what he was feeling. "Is it selfish of me that I'm glad that you're stuck in the city and here with me right now?"
"No," she whispered, not bothering to hide the longing and desire shining in her eyes. "Is it selfish of me that I want you, even knowing it can only be for this one night?"
Another bold and daring invitation that was wreaking havoc with his dwindling willpower. "Ella . . . " His voice was gruff as he watched her tongue shyly skim across her full bottom lip. "You're making it so damn hard to be good."
"I don't want you to be good. I really want you to be bad. With me."
She lifted her hand and touched the cool tips of her fingers against the hollow of his throat, then slowly, gradually caressed them down the middle of his chest, along his abs, and followed the thin trail of hair that led to the waistband of his boxer briefs and the hard length of his eager cock.
He groaned, his chest heaving, and before she could cup him in her hand, he grabbed her hips and hauled her body up against his. She gasped, her eyes widening, but not in shock. No, they were fucking triumphant because she'd finally gotten what she wanted.
Then again, when it came to Ella, she'd been his greatest weakness, and he'd always given her whatever she desired. Why had he thought this would be any different?
He backed her up, and when her ass hit the edge of his dining table, he lifted her so she was sitting on the flat surface. Holding her gaze, he pushed her thighs wide apart and stepped in between, making sure she could feel every fucking inch of his aching dick pressing against that sweet spot between her legs.
He buried his hands in her hair, gently tugging on the roots to tip her head back so she couldn't look away. And Jesus, the need in her eyes, all for him, nearly slayed every last bit of his control. "Are you sure about this?" he asked, because he didn't want her to wake up in the morning with regrets.
She was already unbuttoning the shirt she was wearing, revealing the soft, delectable curves of her breasts, her smooth, flat stomach . . . "Absolutely sure," she breathed huskily. "Just this one night, Kyle. Please."
It was that last word that shattered his resolve and had him crushing his lips against hers in a hungry, endless kiss while she desperately shrugged out of his shirt until it pooled around her on the table. His tongue swept over hers, the connection turning hotter, deeper, as he angled her head so he had full access to every part of her mouth. Jesus Christ, he wanted to fucking own her.
With a soft, sensual moan, she tightened her thighs against the sides of his legs as she once again trailed her fingers back down his chest and pushed her hands straight into his briefs before he could stop her a second time. Her palm slid down the length of him, and when her thumb slicked over the head of his sensitive cock, already slippery with pre-cum, it was his turn to groan from the sheer bliss of having her soft, slender fingers touching him, stroking him.
He released his hold on her hair and caught both of her wrists, pulling them out of his briefs. She protested with a soft mewling sound, but he wasn't about to let her dictate how tonight was going to go, because if he gave her the smallest bit of leeway, this situation was going to be over before he even had a chance to get inside of her.
And before that happened, he wanted to savor her. He wanted to luxuriate in her pleasure and her soft, sweet moans and sighs. He wanted to make her come, so hard that her body shook with the force of it, then come again and again. He wanted her pussy to be sore tomorrow morning so she'd think of him all day and remember all the ways he'd marked her, claimed her, and had been a part of her.
They were lofty goals he was more than prepared to achieve, and he had hours to make her ache so fucking good.