Chiseled jawline, strong brows, deep brown eyes that seemed to telegraph the ability to fulfill her darkest desires. His sinful mouth curved in a slow smile that drew a shiver from her. “What’s your second condition?”
“I’m in charge tonight.” It was her only hope of walking away with a little dignity intact. Beckett was everything she was supposed to hate: arrogant, old money, a family line leading back to the first oil struck in Texas. The only way she could look at herself in the mirror tomorrow was if she controlled this interaction.
If anything, his smile widened. “You’re in charge…for now.”
The trip up to his room was a blur. One moment Beckett was paying for their drinks, and the next Samara’s back hit his door and his mouth took hers. All her competition and desire was mirrored back at her in that kiss, his tongue sliding against hers as they both fought for dominance. Each move had a corresponding response as if they were dancing—or fighting. She dug her fingers into his dark hair and nipped his bottom lip. He slid her dress up enough to hook the backs of her thighs and hitched her up so she could wrap her legs around his waist. She yanked his shirt out of his slacks so she could run her hands up his chest. He ripped her panties off.
They froze, their harsh breaths the only sound in his dim hotel room. Beckett leaned his forehead against hers. “Are we moving too fast?”
She pressed two fingers to his lips. “I’m fucking you tonight, Beckett.”
He didn’t move. “You had a lot of tequila.”
She smiled before she caught herself. Who would have thought that Beckett King had an honorable streak? He wasn’t the biggest dick in their industry, but she’d always found him to be ruthless with a single-minded intensity when it came to pursuing foreign bids. She didn’t know what drove him—and she didn’t care—but honor didn’t come into the equation. Until now.
“I’m buzzed, but not enough that I can’t consent.” When he didn’t move, she kissed his jaw and hooked her fingers into his slacks. “Touch me, Beckett. Kiss me. Fuck me.” She punctuated each word with another kiss. “Make me come enough times I forget all the reasons this is a terrible idea.” She wrapped her hand around his cock and gave him a squeeze. “Now.”
“Bossy.”
“Assertive.”
He turned and carried her deeper into the room. Beckett laid her on the bed and backed up enough to draw her dress over her head. He was on her in seconds, kissing her neck, her shoulders, her collarbones. He used his mouth to inch down her bra and before closing around her nipple, she thought she heard him mutter, “Fucking perfect.”
She was too impatient to let him tease her. Samara fought her way out of her bra. She went after Beckett’s shirt next, nearly popping the buttons off as she hauled it over his head. Seconds later, she shoved off his pants and then she was in bed with a naked Beckett King.
Her control tried to reassert itself and clamor that this was the worst idea she’d ever had, but with Beckett’s big body laid out for her, there was no going back. She straddled him and traced the muscles lining his chest down to his stomach, stopping to drag her thumbs over the dips below his hips. There were so many things she could say: You’re beautiful, too. Your body makes me crazy. I want to memorize every inch of you so I can replay this when I’m alone.
Samara kissed him before she could make a fool of herself. She needed. “Condoms.”
“In a minute.” He toppled her and pushed two fingers into her. She moaned before she could stop herself. For all that she’d claimed to want control, with him half on top of her, his mouth against her skin, and his hand working her between her thighs—it was beyond words.
Mistake.
She clasped the back of his neck and dragged him up for another deep kiss. Pleasure sparked as he pressed his thumb to her clit even as he stroked her. Not yet. She broke away. “Condom. Now, Beckett. I want you inside me.”
For a second it looked like he might keep fucking her with his fingers until she came apart on his hand, but he finally cursed. “Next time we go slow.”
“Sure.” There wasn’t going to be a next time and they both knew it, but she wasn’t about to ruin tonight by saying as much. Samara propped herself on her elbows and watched as he stalked naked to his suitcase and came back with a string of condoms. She raised her eyebrows. “Ambitious.”
Beckett hooked the back of her knees and towed her to the edge of the bed. “If we only have tonight, we’re sure as fuck going to make it count.”
A sentiment she could appreciate. Samara tore off one condom and sat up to roll it down his cock. She took her time, watching the frustrated desire play across his expression. She stroked him once. Twice. A third time.
“Samara—”
She didn’t know what he intended to say, and she didn’t care. She pulled him onto the bed and climbed on top. “Not now.”
“By not now, you mean never.”
That was exactly what she meant, but she wasn’t about to say so and risk ruining what they had going. Samara reached between them to stroke him. “Do you really want to talk right now? Or do you want me to ride you until we both forget our own names?”
Beckett’s mouth went tight, but he grabbed her hips and ground her against him. “We’ll talk another time.”
“Thought so.” There was no point in talking. Trying to turn this into something more than it was would only end in pain for both of them. Beckett had his future mapped out—heir to Morningstar Enterprise, only son to the CEO and owner. A legacy that had been his from the
