How can he?
I leave the room and jab the elevator button over and over and over, hoping it’ll send the lift up faster. I’m only further frustrated when it doesn’t appear immediately.
My heart knows he’s here before I do, double beating and traitorous. And by the time I catch on, it’s too late. Wilder has me in his grip, and the storm in his eyes has turned from a hurricane to a tsunami, and we drown in the ruins.
He lifts me off my feet, and I wrap my legs around his waist like the ropes knotted around our hearts. “I hate you,” I say, dragging him closer and pushing him away.
My back hits the wall, and Wilder grinds his hard cock into my warm, warm center. “No, you don’t.”
When he kisses me, there’s no denying it. Not a single part of me hates a single part of him, and I don’t know who gave in first. I moan inside his mouth, sinking my fingers into his hair and pulling his curls until he groans. My nipples harden under barely-there lace, and I bite his bottom lip until I taste blood on my teeth.
Wilder pulls away and licks the small cut.
“Did that hurt?” I ask coldly. “You didn’t like that? Then tell me how you do like it, Wilder. I can be anyone or anything you want.”
His eyes narrow under furrowed brows.
“It’s the only way you’ll take me,” I say. “It’s the only time you want me.”
He shakes his head and says, “I want you all the time, Camilla. I’m only trying to protect you.”
“But no one hurts me as much as you do.” The truth is a curse and a prayer from a sinner and a saint.
The door to the presidential suite opens, and one of the girls stumbles out lip-to-lip with a briefcase boy. They don’t notice us, but Wilder lets me down to my feet. His jaw muscles tighten, and he smooths his hair back, inhaling a large lungful of air.
“I should go back inside,” I say before he can send me away for my own good.
He presses his palms to the wall on each side of my head, caging me in. “You’re not leaving my sight.”
I roll my eyes and laugh. “No one in that room is going to hurt me.”
“You don’t understand.” Bloody lips kiss along my bare shoulder, up the side of my neck, past the pulse that flutters for him. He whispers into my ear, and now goose bumps appear from my wrists to my shoulders. And I wonder if this is how Lydia feels with Talent’s voice in her ear. “I can’t stay away from you, and I’m done trying. If you want me, I’m yours.”
They booked every available suite on the top two floors to ensure our privacy. He fumbles with a pocketful of cards, pressing one after another against the keypad to the suite across the hall from the party until the light finally turns green and the door unlocks. We crash into the room, tangled and touching, without regard for anything but our mouths and our bodies.
We collide with a wall table, and a vase full of flowers crashes to the floor and shatters. We crush purple petals under our shoes, and I slip in the water. Wilder catches me before I trip, laughing against the curve between my neck and shoulder. He picks me up bridal style, and I look into his eyes and see it. He would be the most gorgeous groom.
He puts me down inside the bedroom, and I can smell his peppery cologne in the air. His suitcase is splayed open across the top of the dresser, and a black business suit is thrown over a seat in the corner. He chose to wear a blue one that makes his eyes look like the night sky full of stars. I grab the lapels of his jacket and walk backward to the bed.
“How’s this for a proper bed?” I ask, kicking off my shoes.
I’m six inches shorter than Wilder without them, and he towers over me, around me. He lifts me up, and now I’m a head taller, using my hair as a curtain to block out everything but the feeling of his lips against mine. His hand slides down my thigh to my knee, hooking it around his waist as we fall to the mattress.
“It’s not my bed, but it’ll do for now,” he says, coming to his knees between my legs.
Wilder unbuckles my leather pants, peeling them from my skin. His chest rumbles when he sees the panties I’m wearing beneath, caged like my top, crossing my hips and over my center.
“They won’t be easy to get off,” I say like a dare. His smoldering stare shifts from my tied-up pussy to my eyes, and he smirks.
Dare accepted.
Wilder removes his jacket and pulls his tie free. He climbs over my body, slipping his finger under the strap that supports my breasts. His hands continue up the underside of my arms, past my elbows to my wrists, placing both of my hands above my head.
“Don’t move. I don’t want to hurt you,” he says. Wilder kisses along my throat, over my chest, and down my ribcage to my belly.
My chest rises and falls frantically with the press of his lips. He circles my belly button with his tongue, and I gasp, gripping the pillow under my head to keep from grabbing him. He kisses lower, over my pelvic bone, and on the inside of my thigh. I rub the bottom of my feet against the bedding, cradling him between my knees, urging him closer. Wilder brushes his lips along the lines of my panties, where the straps have me wrapped like a gift. He kisses from my lace-covered clit to my opening, exhaling against my center and nudging my knees open.
“Just rip them off,” I moan, curving my back away from the bed.
