Page 72 of A Really Bad Idea

The doors close.

Game on.

Christian’s at my side of the elevator, his hands in my hair, his tongue licking my lips and his kisses electrifying me. His body pushes into me, and I moan at the steel of his erection against me, the silk doing nothing to cushion the hardness of him from rubbing against me.

His mouth is on my neck, his hands up to my rib cage, thumbs running over my breasts. I grip his firm ass and pull him further into me.

The doors open, and he grips my hand, pulling me out of the car and down the hall. Our room is on the right. He swipes the card and opens the door.

The urgency of the moment has slowed down a touch at the sight of the gold headboard of the king-size bed. He closes the door behind us and secures the lock.

As he steps up behind me, his hand skims my waist, and his other palm glides down the front of my body, stopping at the top of my thighs. I fall back into him and turn my head to the side. His lips dance on my skin, kissing me from earlobe to collarbone, leaving a chill in their wake.

I place my hands on top of his and move them from my thighs toward the center of my body. The touch of his large hands, hot and heavy over my core, has me pining in anticipation. I run his hands up and down, the friction building me up, wild and heady. With his hands rubbing me over the silk, his mouth goes back to my neck and up to my jaw, willing my mouth toward him.

I lose myself in his kisses once again.

“Why has it taken me twenty-three years to kiss you?” he asks.

“Good things come to those who wait,” I breathe.

“Fuck yes.”

He spins me in his arms, and I step back. I want to take a look at him.

He’s still as polished and princely as he was earlier, except his lips are swollen and his eyes are glazed with lust. This man—this impossible, gorgeous man, who is looking at me like I could save his life—just might be the death of me.

His hand rises to undo his bow tie. It lies undone as he unbuttons the top three buttons of his shirt.

My own hand rises to my neck and runs a trail down my décolletage and over the curve of my breasts. His eyes watch the way my finger dances over the line where silk meets skin as he undoes his cuff links and places them in his pocket.

I grip the zipper in the back of my dress and slowly pull down.

He licks his lips.

I bite mine as I let my dress fall. A beautiful dress, a mess on a hotel floor. I’m left standing in a black lace bra and matching thong.

“Meadow.” His voice is a deep growl as he drinks me in.

“I know you only bought that dress, so you could take it off.”

He doesn’t deny it. “You’re beautiful.”

The look he’s giving me is so intense; I have to close my eyes.

“I feel like the breath is stolen from my lungs. Telling a woman she’s beautiful is too common, but this is the first time I’ve ever said those words and absolutely meant them.” His words cause me to look at him. He takes a step toward me, stopping before touching me. “You’ve always had this alluring quality, a magnetic vibrancy that attracts everyone to you. I think it’s the way you light up when you laugh.”

“I’m not laughing right now.”

“No. You’re a woman ready to be loved, and it is the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.” His hand rises to the side of my face, and his thumb runs small circles over my cheek. “I want you so bad, Meadow. I think I’ve always wanted you.”

I undo his belt buckle and his pants. “Then, have me.”

I glide his zipper and lay my hand over his erection. It’s thick and heavy in my hand.

His forehead falls to mine as he groans in pleasure. Then, his hands are on my waist, and he hoists me up and lays me on the bed.

My bra and panties are on the floor in seconds, and his hands and mouth are in their places. His lips suck on a pert nipple as his fingers pinch the other. His body perfectly lines up with mine. My naked body wraps around his clothed one, taking in his weight, his neediness, and seeking relief for my own.