I pressed the button for the top floor.
“Lukas, talk to me. Where are we going? Why were you so upset? Who were those—”
I rounded on her. “Stop talking.”
With a soft chime, the doors closed, and we were alone.
Chapter 22
Kayla
I was trapped in the corner of the elevator. Lukas caged me in and stepped in close. His face was a mask of anger and I knew it was a good thing I’d interrupted his argument with the two men at the bar when I did. Had I not intervened, there likely would have been an article published the following day about Lukas Holt throwing two fifty-year-old men out on their asses in front of the Monroe Hotel.
It would have been a scandal and a PR nightmare and I never would have heard the end of it from Lisa. Not to mention the damage it might have done to Lukas’ already staggering reputation.
“Lukas,” I breathed. His name was the only word I could think to say. My mind was a fuzzy, jumbled, white-noise-filled space.
“I’m tired of this runaround,” he said. His voice was gravelly and deep.
I tried to speak. I tried to ask him what runaround he was talking about. But no words came out.
“I want you, Kayla,” he said.
My heart hammered wildly in my chest.
He moved in closer. His eyes raked over the length of my body and I wished I’d had the foresight to wear a dress that didn’t betray my arousal. My nipples hardened and pressed against the silk fabric as he closed in on me.
“And you want me too,” he said, finally stopping when he was well within my personal bubble. He planted one hand on the elevator wall beside my head and stared down the length of his nose at me. “No more games. No more pretending.”
“I’m not pretending.”
“Don’t lie to me.”
I licked my lips.
What could I say to get him to give me space?
The better question lingered in the back of my mind.
Do I want him to give me space, or do I want him to take what he wants, consequences be damned?
“Look at me,” Lukas barked.
My eyes darted up to his.
“Tell me to stop,” he whispered. “Tell me to stop and I’ll listen.”
I swallowed.
He moved quicker than I anticipated. One minute, he was staring into my soul, and the next, he had a hold of the back of my neck. I didn’t resist when he dropped his head, and his lips crashed against mine. He tasted like whiskey and something sweet and spiced, like chai. He smelled like musk and pine and citrus and I gave in to the rush of my own blood, pumping in a chorus of desire screaming at me to go for it.
Let him touch you.
I draped an arm over his shoulders as he craned my neck back to kiss my throat. His lips were warm and soft as velvet as he worked his way down my neck and across my chest. He lingered at the swell of my cleavage until a strap fell from my shoulder and exposed half of my breast. A deep, guttural growl escaped him.
My knees trembled and my thighs felt like I’d just done a three-hour spin class. He pinned me to the wall, his fist still clenched in my hair, and I gazed at the bright lights in the ceiling as he jerked the top of my dress down to expose the rest of my breast. He cupped me in one hand and pinched my nipple with his thumb and forefinger. A breathless giggle left me but it was stolen away when he sealed his mouth over my nipple and flicked at me with his tongue.
“Someone might catch us,” I whispered. Every word hitched in my throat like it was getting caught on thorns. “Lukas, please.”
“I don’t give a damn if someone catches us.”
“I do,” I muttered.
He broke away and released my hair. I struggled to catch my breath as he shielded me from the door with his body. My breast was still exposed but he stared into my eyes. “I’ve been waiting too long for you to make me wait.”
We crashed together again.
When the doors opened with a soft chime, Lukas blocked me from the view of the hallway as I pulled the straps of my dress back up. Luckily, nobody was there. He took my hand and led me down the hall to the Presidential Suite, where he swiped his card and shouldered the door open. He ushered me inside ahead of him and slapped my ass as I brushed past.
Hard.
It stung. I yelped. His deep chuckle followed me into the depths of the room as he closed and locked the door behind him. He didn’t turn the lights on. All that illuminated the room was the moonlight streaming through the open curtains.
Neither of us went to draw them closed. The hotel had a glorious and unobstructed view of the city, and with the lights out, nobody would be able to see us.
At least that was what I told myself as I turned back to Lukas to find him shrugging out of his suit jacket and stepping out of his shoes. He undid his belt, and as his fingers worked, I stepped in close and began working on the buttons of his shirt. One at a time, I popped them open. Each one came free and taunted me.
One step closer to feeling him.
One step closer to tasting him.
One step closer to doing what I swore I never would.
The last button came free and I slid my hands up his shirt and over his shoulders. The shirt fell free and landed behind him. Finally, I could
