Page 32 of Playing Mr. Perfect

Her eyes widen.

“Don’t pretend you didn’t like it.”

She clamps her mouth shut but thinks better of it and leans into me, whispering, “I told you you’re a bad influence.”

“Do you want me to stop?”

“I didn’t say that,” she says quickly, and we both laugh.

We meander around the room exchanging heated glances. There’s so much want in her eyes, when the tour guide starts leading the group out of the room, I slip my finger through one of Pepper’s belt loops, keeping her from following them, and rasp in her ear, “I want to kiss you so badly right now.”

“Not here.” Gone is the adamancy she started the day with, replaced with a breathy, needy plea for me to find someplace safe from the eyes of others.

My reckless girl is back.

I take her hand, and we rush like horny college kids through one of the archways, into a dark corridor, and I pull her behind some sort of large storage cabinet. I drop our gift bags and haul her against me. As her arms dart around my neck, our mouths crash together in a feast of desires. There’s no melting, no slowing down. She’s grinding against my cock, and I’m pushing my hands under her sweater, groping and teasing her magnificent breasts. She arches into my hands, moaning hungrily. I’ll probably go straight to hell for this, but I push my fingers into the waist of her jeans. She draws back, breathing hard, her eyes searching mine.

“Tell me to stop, or give me that mouth.”

She pulls my mouth back to hers. So fucking hot. I tug open her jeans and push my hand into her panties. She inhales sharply as my fingers dip into her slick heat. I groan into our kiss, pumping my fingers, using my thumb on her most sensitive nerves as we eat at each other’s mouths. She palms me through my jeans, and I grit out, “Fuck,” working her faster. She strokes me through the denim, driving me out of my mind. “Keep doing that, and I’ll fuck you right here.”

Her eyes gleam with lust, but she releases my cock and pulls my mouth back to hers, riding my fingers. I fist my other hand in her hair, holding her mouth tight against mine, fucking it with my tongue as I stroke the spot that takes her up onto her toes. “I can’t wait to get my mouth on you again,” I grit out, and crush my lips to hers. It doesn’t take long before she’s spiraling out of control, moans sailing from her lungs into mine as her climax ravages her. The feel of her pussy clamping around my fingers makes my cock weep.

When she finally goes soft against me, she buries her face in my shirt, and I imagine sweet Pepper wondering how she could have let Reckless take over. I keep my fingers buried deep and lift her chin with my other hand, so she can see the man who made her feel so good.

Gazing into her blissed-out eyes, I tell her what she needs to hear. “No one will know.”

I kiss her slowly, sweetly, and reassuringly and vow in that moment that I will do everything within my power to keep my word. Just as the thought hits, a voice comes from the room we just vacated.

“Where could they have gone?” Brindle asks.

Pepper’s eyes fly open, and she jerks back, but I keep her close as I pull my hand out of her jeans and quickly button them. She watches me suck my fingers clean, her eyes flaming anew, despite the worry in them.

“Maybe Clay walked her to the bathroom,” Morgyn says.

Pepper squeezes her eyes shut, and I embrace her, putting one hand on the back of her head, wishing I could take her embarrassment away, and at the same time, finding it incredibly appealing.

“I’m sure they’ll catch up,” Brindle says. “As long as they’re together, we know she’s okay.”

Her sisters’ voices fade as they walk away, and Pepper lets out a relieved breath. Her heart hammers against mine. I lean back to see her face, and when our eyes connect, we both laugh.

“What is it about you that makes me lose my good sense?” she asks, smoothing her hair.

“I think you mean thank you.”

She swats me and steps out of our hideaway, but I pull her back in for one more kiss.

Chapter Nine

Clay

The brisk afternoon fades into a chilly evening. We’re back at the hotel, taking a brief respite to shower and change before heading to dinner. My shoulder’s been tight, so I do the physical therapy I’ve been doing all year. It doesn’t help much, so I pop a couple of ibuprofen and jump in the shower.

My phone chimes twice while I’m getting dressed. I hope it’s not my agent. Tiffany is excellent at her job, but right now I’m finding that annoying as fuck. She’s hounding me to negotiate the offer to extend my contract, and that’s not a decision I can handle making right now. I glance at my phone on the counter, prepared to ignore the text if it’s from her, and breathe a sigh of relief at the group texts rolling in from my siblings. After nearly losing Flynn to a tragic accident last year, I never miss a chance to connect with them.

Victory: Noah said you’re in Paris. Are you behaving?

Noah: It’s Clay, of course he’s not.