“I want you underneath me.”

Chapter 7

ELLIOT

My teeth graze her ear and all of my senses are heightened.

I run my hand up her arm to feel goosebumps.

Fuck.

She’s hot.

It’s dark and I take her face in my hands and kiss her softly; she smiles against me and kisses me back.

Arousal begins to pump hard through my body and my cock hardens in my pants.

Her tongue dances with mine and I frown. Fucking hell . . .

She’s really fucking hot.

Yes.

Yes.

Our tongues dance seductively as I begin to lose control. I lean into her.

My grip on her face tightens as my body begins to throb. She pulls back from me and licks her lips as she stares at me.

I reach for her and she holds her hand up as if to stop me.

“What are you doing?” I pant.

“I’ve had enough.” She sits up and takes her lipstick from her purse, totally unaffected.

My eyebrows rise in surprise. Huh?

She opens a compact mirror and begins to put her bright pink lipstick on.

I lean in and nibble her neck and goosebumps scatter up her arms once more. She smiles.

“Don’t bother with the lipstick; it will rub off on my dick,” I breathe into her ear.

She turns her head and seductively licks my lips; I almost blow on the spot.

“I’m going,” she whispers.

I smile darkly as I sit up to leave. “Yes . . . we are.”

She rolls her lipstick on. “Sit down, you’re not coming.”

“What?”

“Sorry.” She shrugs. “I guess I’m just not that into you.”

What does she mean?

She puts her mouth to my ear. “And for the record, you would be underneath me.”

I smirk. I like this game.

She bites my ear hard and I grab her head and hold it to mine.

For a moment, we stay close, bathing in the electricity between us.

And holy fuck, there’s a lot of it.

“What am I supposed to do about this?” I take her hand and place it over my hard cock.

Her eyes darken and she leans forward and kisses me again. “Go upstairs and fuck a model,” she breathes into my mouth.

I jerk back from her, unimpressed with her tone. “Careful,” I warn her.

She stands, steps over me, and with her long legs straight and on either side of mine, she leans down to me one more time. “Elliot,” she whispers.

I run my hands up her long legs. “Fuck off, we’re going home now.” I sit forward and she pushes me back in my chair. “My cock won’t go down,” I whisper up at her.

She kisses me as she reaches for something on the table and then I feel her hand at my crotch.

Hell . . . what must we look like?

Who fucking cares?

She kisses me once more and I smile against her lips as she undoes my fly.

Is she just going to jerk me off, right here? Fuck . . . she’s an animal.

Yes . . . yes . . . yes.

I feel a burn on my balls and my eyes snap open.

Cold, ice fucking cold.

“That better, baby?” she whispers as she stands, runs her hand down my stubble.

I look down to see that she has put a handful of ice down my briefs. “What the fuck?” I growl.

She laughs, blows me a kiss, turns, and I watch as her sexy hot ass sashays through the crowd.

I dig the ice out of my pants and throw it under the table. I look around to see if anyone just saw what happened. I try to catch my breath as I drag my hand down my face. “What the hell was that shit?” I murmur.

I sit back and stretch my arms out along the back of the chair.

Testosterone is thrumming through my body, the primal urge to fuck is hard and real.

Her words come back to me: I guess I’m just not that into you . . .

Liar.

Nothing’s easy with this woman. I want to go to her house and drag her into bed.

But of course, I won’t.

Lesson number one, don’t play with a player.

I smirk into my glass.

Kate Landon is going to get it.

Hard.

KATE

“Taxi,” I call as I hold my arm up.

One pulls up and I dive into the backseat. “Quick, drive,” I say to the driver.

“Okay lady, calm down,” he says as he pulls out into the traffic. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Just getting away from a bad date,” I lie. I turn and look out the rear window and watch the club disappear into the distance.

I turn back to face the front as relief fills me. I can’t believe I just did that.

I get a vision of Elliot in the club right now with ice down his pants, and I smile goofily.

Wow . . . who am I?

I think this is my favorite moment of all time.

I giggle to myself—go me.

Three hours later, the problem with playing hard to get is that you don’t get it.

I lie in the dark and twist my mother’s ring around my finger as I think. It’s late—4 a.m.

I haven’t heard from Elliot; I thought he would have messaged me, if only to give me a mouthful. And after sitting at my computer for an hour when I got home, Edgar hasn’t answered my message either.

Which leads me to believe one thing: Elliot did in fact go back upstairs and fuck a model.

Just like I told him to . . . I throw the back of my arm over my face in disgust.

Ugh, you idiot.

Why did I say that?

I keep going over and over the way he kissed me, the way his broad shoulders felt under my hands.

And can we just take a minute to appreciate that humungous hard dick in his pants?

It’s ridiculous, nobody can be that blessed.

He’s like a porn star or something, or maybe it’s just been a really long time for me and I’ve forgotten what erections feel like.

Hot and smooth, thick veins . . . hmmm.

A deep ache thumps in between my legs, my body pissed that I didn’t deliver the goods.

Hell, I’m pissed.

A good fucking would have been just what I needed tonight, but the reality is a different story. I have my period.

And if I ever did fall into bed with the elusive Elliot Miles, he’s going to have to work a lot harder than that . . . even if I am just a horizontal crush.

I mean, I don’t want anything more than that anyway, but I’m not easy.

Especially not for domineering assholes who kiss like the devil.

My inner ho reappears and I wonder what it would be like to be underneath him . . .

Stop it.

I roll onto my side and nestle in, trying to find a comfortable position.

Just go to sleep.

I feel his breath on my neck and his teeth on my ear and I smile into the darkness.

For the first time in years, I feel alive.

Monday morning, I walk into the Miles Media building like a rock star.

Wearing a tight black dress and my hair in a high ponytail, I’m ready to take on the world.

I’m over my confidence crisis now. It doesn’t matter if Elliot did fuck a model.

He’s nothing to me.

Nope, nope, nope. I am not falling for his little seduction . . . Well, I now know it’s not so little, but whatever.

And Edgar is in the shit too, where has that asshole been all weekend?

He’s got no excuse not to reply to my messages, I’m just his platonic penpal friend.

Anyway, poof to men.

They all suck.

I arrive at my desk, and half an hour later I glance up through the glass wall to see Elliot standing at one of the desks talking to someone. He’s wearing his navy suit, a white shirt, and he looks even more orgasmic today if that’s humanly possible. I snap my gaze away.