Page 33 of Walk of Shame
Chapter Ten
Ashley
His mouth ishot on mine, making me dizzy.
He freezes for a fraction of a second before his lips turn aggressive and demanding. The passion we’ve been keeping at bay, that had been simmering between us from the first time I saw him, explodes between us.
I press my body into him. Molding myself to him, sliding against him like he’s a missing puzzle piece. The click of him, falling into place, calms everything inside me, even while desire hums in my blood.
For the first time I trust myself. He’s exactly where I’m meant to be.
The kiss turns desperate. All the pent-up lust we’ve been ignoring for days, coming to a rapid boil. I want him, so, so badly.
More than I’ve ever wanted anyone in my life.
He growls, low in his throat before he puts his hands on my hips and rips his mouth away. He whispers against my lips, “Ashley, we need to get out of here.”
Breathless, I nod. “Yes.”
He takes my hand, and leads me back to the table, just in time to see our food has arrived and the waiters are standing there, waiting of us to return to our seats.
Christopher glances at me. “Would you like to eat here? Or take it to go?”
I can’t explain, but I love that he asks me this. That he’s not assuming my preference because he’s ready to take me to bed. That my feelings, what I want and desire, matters to him. It confirms everything about my choice. I squeeze his fingers. “To go.”
He smiles, tugs me close, and brushes his mouth over mine. “Good. I’d rather your first orgasm be in private instead of at the table.”
I suck in a breath. He’d do it too. He wasn’t above it. And I like that about him too. With him I can be completely unrestrained, free and abandoned.
That’s what I crave about him.
Before I can answer he’s talking to the waiter. “Could we get this to go?”
The waiter’s expression doesn’t even flicker. “Of course, sir. Where would you like it sent?”
“Room 1428,” Christopher says, naming his room, and without waiting for confirmation he turns and we walk through the tables, and out the door.
He doesn’t speak as we wait for the elevator. When the door opens it’s full of people, and a muscle jumps in his jaw. We squeeze into the corner.
His hand slips from mine, sweeping over my waist, traveling over the base of my spine, before making his way to my hip where his fingers dig in, hot and possessive.
I gulp. Nerves, excitement and anticipation run thick in my veins.
He looks down at me.
Our gazes meet.
And, right here, in the elevator surrounded by too many people, something sweet and heart stopping fills the empty space that separates us.
I shiver with the knowledge of it, with the strength.
He palms me, his hand strong and steady, his eyes never leaving mine.
He’s not afraid. He wants this. Wants me.
I lick my lips.
Wants us.
