Her hands were frantic, shoving at his jacket, and he let go of her to help pull it down his arms, fighting free of the confines.
She broke the kiss as she yanked his shirt out of his pants, and Wes tried to catch his breath, to slow the roar of his blood and the heaving of his lungs, but he was too far gone. Too far in. He needed it. Needed this.
Her hands worked the buttons on his shirt and he shoved his fingers in her hair, anchoring his palms on either side of her face so he could taste her again.
High voltage.
Lit gasoline.
It had been too long since he’d touched her.
He craved this, the slide of her tongue against his, the rake of her nails down his bare chest.
The confines of the elevator filled with the harbingers of sex: the rasp of their breathing, the clank of his belt, the rush of his blood in his ears, the scrape of his zipper.
Fuck yes.
Her fingers galvanized him, and his cock pulsed in time with the thick beat of his heart.
She made a sound in the back of her throat, a needy hitch that he recognized, and just like that, they were them again. It erased the distance, the fights, the years between them, and he hated her for the power she held over him. But he couldn’t resist it, either.
He’d never been able to resist her.
With a growl, he pulled his mouth from hers and spun her to face the wall. Her hands came up to press against the wood and she turned her head. Despite the desire pounding through his veins, he was transfixed for a moment by her profile, her long lashes at half-mast, the quick tug of her teeth against her full bottom lip. He did his best not to ruin the gold zipper that ran the length of her spine as he yanked it out of his way with less finesse than he’d have liked, but he was desperate for her skin, for the constellation of beauty marks high on her shoulder blade, just to the right of her bra strap, that he used to idly connect into a star pattern, sometimes with his finger, sometimes the tip of his tongue, back when they used to kiss and talk and fuck the night away.
He shoved the material out of the way to reveal them, tracing them with his thumb before dipping his head and blazing the same trail with his mouth. Vivienne shivered under the hot swipe of his tongue before turning to face him, her delicate shoulder blades pressed against the dark wood, and just like that, she was pulling her top down, revealing her black mesh bra with strategically placed seaming, and he was pulling her skirt up, baring creamy thighs and matching panties. The red dress bunched around her waist as they met in the middle.
There was relief bound up in the heat that slammed through his body. She’d always had a thing for delicate, sexy underthings, the kind that could send a man to his knees. Not everything about her had changed.
Wes grasped her by the back of her thighs and hoisted her up until she was balanced on the brass railing. She wrapped her legs around his waist, high heels digging into his ass, urging him closer. His hips lurched forward, and she bit his lip as their bodies made contact, skin to skin.
Everything got mixed up then. Past. Present. Anger. Desire. Right. Wrong.
And Wes was powerless to do anything but feel it all as he tugged her delicate panties out of his way and slid deep into the slick heat between her legs.
It was heaven. The kind that would invariably end with a long, slow descent into hell, but in that moment, in Viv’s arms, he didn’t care. He just gave in to the burn.
God, it had been forever since she’d had sex like this. The hard punch of lust. The bittersweet edge of desperation. Just the right amount of rough.
Wes had always had a knack for just the right amount of rough.
She’d gotten wet in an instant, the second their mouths had met. Proof that, despite her best efforts to erase the past, her body remembered him—the spiraling ache, the dark, hot friction of them together.
Why it surprised her, she couldn’t say. Chemistry had never been their problem. Not back when they’d dated, and not now when she hated him and craved him in equal measure.
She didn’t care that she was kind of his lawyer.
She didn’t care that she still bore the scars from their breakup.
She just wanted this, the wild that he brought out in her.
The heady pleasure of having Wes hot and hard between her thighs overwhelmed her senses. She breathed him in, tracing the ridges of muscle that lined his shoulders and flexed in his back as they moved together. The rock of his hips made her whole body come alive, pulsing with need.
Vivienne let her head fall back as his mouth traced the sensitive skin of her neck, shocking her with his tongue, surprising her with his teeth, soothing her with his lips.
Heat, wicked and delicious, twisted inside her, peaking her nipples. Every part of her ached to be closer to his big body and she tightened her legs so she could grind against him with each thrust, needing more. More pressure. More everything.
“Harder.” The plea fell from her lips, and the answering shift of his muscles as he drove into her with more force blurred the edges of thought until all she could do was feel him. Feel the power they’d unleashed between them.
He’d always done this, pushed her so high, so fast, it made her head spin. She was dizzy with lust and it was so good. So damn good. Then he lifted his head and seized her mouth, and the sharp throb and catch of her inner muscles caught her off guard.
No.
Her imminent pleasure was edged with
