Page 12 of The Trouble with Flings

Just the idea has me moaning and rocking against his fingers, stroking him tighter through his slacks.

He nips at my earlobe. “Is my wild girl into voyeurism?”

Needing to regain some shred of control, I say, “I never have been, but a girl’s got to try everything once.”

“I’ll be your first.” He continues teasing me between my legs without giving me what I need.

“Fitz, please.”

“Good girl, begging me.” He pushes two fingers inside me, and pleasure radiates through my core, drawing out another moan. “So fucking tight,” he says gruffly. “Ride my fingers, and squeeze my cock.” I do as he demands. “That’s it. Good girl. You want to come for me?”

“More than anything,” I pant out. I’m about a minute from losing it. I press my hand over his on my breast, urging him to grope me harder, but he doesn’t. He eases his grip and slows his efforts between my legs, driving me out of my fucking mind.

“Tell me you remember how good we were together.”

Secretly loving the way he dares to push me, I say, “I hate you a little right now.”

“No, you don’t. You hate that I know you want me more than you’ve ever wanted anyone.” He presses his thumb to my clit, and a needy sound tumbles out. “Tell me the truth, Jennifer.”

“I kind of remember,” I relent. He pinches my nipple through my dress, sending pleasure rocketing through me. I gasp, my hips bucking. He starts to pull his fingers out from between my legs, and I grab his wrist, keeping them there. “I remember. God, you’re a pain.”

“You know you love this,” he grits out.

Sealing his mouth over my neck, he takes my nipple between his finger and thumb and quickens his efforts between my legs. My thoughts scatter, leaving nothing but dizzying desire and all-consuming heat. I’m vaguely aware of the lights of the shoreline getting closer, when he sinks his teeth into my neck, and I detonate, crying out, “Fitz!” He covers my mouth with one hand, silencing my cries, while his other continues sending rivers of pleasure rolling violently through me as I come harder than I have in months.

Fitz

Tonight has been one hell of a lesson in restraint. I’m glad the hallway to Jennifer’s suite is empty, because we barely make it to her door before my mouth is on hers. I back her against the wall in a ravenous kiss that’s nothing like our earlier kisses. They were full of control. This one is raw hunger unleashed. She matches my urgency, feverishly returning my efforts, making those lustful sounds I crave. I bury my hands in her hair, and she goes up on her toes, her willing mouth seeking more.

I take the kiss deeper but slow us down, wanting her to feel every pulse of desire, the yearning for more. Before long, her hands stop gripping and start exploring, sliding up my chest, moving over my arms and shoulders, into my hair. That’s it, baby, take what you want. The deeper sexy sounds she makes are the most honest, unguarded pieces of herself, and I revel in each and every one of them.

Drawing back just enough to kiss a path down her neck, I press my lips to the pulse at the base of her throat, feeling it race against my tongue. I linger there until her fingers tighten in my hair, before kissing my way back up. My willing wild girl who overthinks far too much tips her head back, giving me better access. I get off on her beautifully sharp mind, but when it comes to this, to the fire between us, I want to silence those thoughts, so she has no choice but to let the pleasure drive her.

I press my body to hers, and it’s torture knowing I’m not going to follow through, but I reclaim her mouth, kissing her slowly and thoroughly, until her breathing slows, and she goes soft in my arms. That’s when I know she’s not thinking at all. There’s nothing more beautiful than when she finally allows herself to let go.

When our lips finally part, her eyes flutter open. Her lips are pink and swollen, her cheeks are flushed, and she’s looking at me like she has finally run out of arguments and demands.

“Good night, beautiful,” I whisper, and pull her keycard from my pocket, handing it to her.

Confusion riddles her brow. “You’re not coming in?”

“No. Tonight was just a reminder. We’ll see if you remember how we measure up tomorrow.”

As I step back, she says, “Fitz…? What do you want from me?”

“Everything,” I say honestly. “But tonight I’ll settle for this.”

I brush a final kiss over her lips and head down the hall. It takes everything I have not to turn around for one last glimpse. But I know exactly what I’d see, and that look of shock, dismay, and how-dare-you, in those gorgeous hazel eyes would be enough to shatter my restraint.

This is going to be the longest night of my life.

Chapter Four

Fitz

The elevator is taking forever Tuesday morning. I shift the coffee to my left hand and check the time: 8:47. I’m cutting it close. The first panel starts at nine. I lingered too long over breakfast, hoping Jennifer would wander into the hotel café. When she didn’t, I grabbed a chocolate croissant and a black coffee and headed up to her suite. I have no idea what she likes for breakfast or how she takes her coffee, but I know she likes to indulge sexually, so I feel like chocolate is a safe guess, and she seems like a black-coffee woman. Straight to the point. No fluff.

The elevator opens on her floor, and I head to her suite, last night’s animalistic kisses coming back in vivid replay. What is it about this woman that has such a hold on me?