The minute the door closed she turned to me and I had my hands up her skirt, confirming the absence of her panties.

“You see? Nothing for you to rip off of me.”

I pressed her against the wall of the elevator. “I’m going to push this dress up right now and fuck you.”

She let out a breathy moan that cut right through me. “Yes, please.”

“You want it,” I said, my hand stroking up the inside of her silky thigh.

Her lids drooped. “Yes, I do.”

“But I shouldn’t give you what you want, naughty girl. I should punish you.”

When the elevator dinged and the door slid open into the suite, I gave her a light push out in front of me, turning back to press the lock button on the elevator so we wouldn’t be interrupted. She cast a wary glance up at me and then turned away from me, facing the wall.

“Punish me, then.”

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Mia

Project Seduction was about to cash in. With breathy anticipation, I waited as he moved up behind me. He stopped, standing very close without touching me. I stood perfectly still, even holding my breath.

Adam grabbed my wrists and pulled my hands up by my head as he pushed me forward. His hips pinned my body to the cold marble wall.

“I need to fuck you,” he said. And he began to kiss me. His mouth slipped across the back of my neck, my shoulders, my ears, my jaw, his kisses sizzling on my skin like icy raindrops on a steaming hot street. I tingled with his touch, his hands braceleted around my wrists. He spent time tasting every inch of me and I could feel or think of nothing besides his mouth, his hot breath on my skin. I shivered and his hands tightened around my wrists, his breath faltering where his mouth devoured my earlobe.

“Adam, please,” I whimpered.

He pressed my hands on the wall beside my head and dropped his hold to fumble with the fastening on my dress, unhooking and unzipping it in two quick movements.

“My God, you are beautiful,” he said in a tight voice. Everything in me hummed to the vibrations of his uttered words. I swallowed, still fearful for him to see me. If he stripped off my dress, he’d still find my serviceable, unattractive bra hiding my disfigurement. I’d just ask him not to take it off.

And I could brag to Kat that I was so good, I didn’t even have to show him the girls to get into his pants.

His hands slid inside the dress, tracing my spine from the small of my back to the base of my neck, and then his hot, wet mouth replaced the touch there while his hands went to cup my hips. The sensations were stunning, overwhelming, and I was certain that if I hadn’t been propped up against the wall, I might have swooned like an old-fashioned lady in a too-tight corset.

Inside my dress, his hands moved from my hips, over my stomach, one settling between my legs. He traced his finger there, pressing his mouth to my ear. “You’re so wet for me.”

I leaned my head back on his shoulder and barely managed to answer with a hoarse whisper. “Yes.”

“I think my naughty girl needs to come,” he said, stroking me again. I gasped. Oh yes, she really, really needs to come.

“I think the birthday boy needs to come, too,” I replied.

Suddenly his hands were everywhere, moving over my thighs, over my stomach. He moved them so fast it was like he was trying to make up for lost time in minutes, like he didn’t know where he wanted to touch next. I was the air he needed to breathe, the water he needed to drink.

Those hands came up to my breasts and cupped them over the thick material of my bra. I took a deep breath and fought the urge to push his hands away. He rested them there, as if testing me to see what I would do. So against my instinct, I relaxed against him, my heart racing in fear mixed with anticipation. He moved his thumbs across my nipples and they immediately responded. I cried out, the feeling shooting through me so intense. Too intense. I arched against his broad chest and his hot breath scorched my neck.

He was flame and I was paper. His touch immolated me and I felt light, like the fiery embers of paper ashes carried away on the wind. I wanted him—needed to accept him into my body, feel him move inside me, touch every corner and every hidden alcove, empty himself into me.

We two needed to be one. One in desire, one in purpose, one in life.

I backed against him, moving my butt against his erection. He sucked in a sharp breath. “I should spank that naughty little ass.”

A dark feeling clutched at my throat. His words reminded me of the night we’d been together in Vegas, the last night we’d had sex, over five months ago. He’d spanked me then. But it had been out of anger, frustration. I’d broken up with him, hadn’t explained anything to him. Guilt clutched at my throat. He’d hated me for it.