Page 54 of Gilt

“Oh, I’ve been trying since I met you, Duchess. It’s just nice to know that I might be succeeding.” His knuckles graze against my stomach as he continues to play with my shirt. Even the hint of his touch blazes a trail of fire in its wake. I know two things, then. Jameson West can take me when he wants me, and two, I’m totally screwed.

“Come on.” He urges me away from the pillar. It’s strange to think about going back upstairs. The place where our relationship began is almost where it ended. There’s no security guard waiting at the private elevator, and I flash a concerned look at him.

“So you want to put a security detail on me, but no one’s watching the gates to the kingdom?”

“Don’t worry, Duchess,” he says as he presses the elevator button. “I’ve had four times as many security cameras installed in the last week. You can’t blink here without security knowing about it.”

“But why not have the extra muscle?”

He laughs at this. “For someone who looked very resistant to the idea of having a bodyguard, you seem awfully concerned about my safety.”

“I can’t stand the idea of someone doing you bodily harm.” I run my fingers across the flat plane of his abdomen. Of the two of us, he’s in much more danger than I am. At least that’s what I want to tell myself, even as I ignore the real danger I face. How I feel about Jameson is morphing and evolving so rapidly that it’s hard to wrap my head around, but the very fact that I’ve never felt this way about anyone before tells me all I need to know. Yes, I am in danger of losing my heart to him.

“Then you understand how I feel,” he says huskily.

At least if I do lose my heart to him, I’ll be getting one in return.

“Your turn,” he prompts as the elevator light signals its imminent arrival.

I look him squarely in the eyes as the doors slide open behind us. “Dare.”

“God, I was hoping you’d say that, Duchess.” His hand fists in my shirt, dragging me inside the compartment. “This elevator only goes up,” he reminds me. “So the only button I need to worry about pushing is yours. But,” he backs me into the mirrored wall, his hips pressing roughly against mine. “If I hit this button, we’ll have two minutes alone in here before security responds.”

I follow his gaze to the panel, where a stop button is located next to one marked panic. “So what’s your dare, then?” I ask him.

“If I hit that button, you have to accept it.” He shifts his groin harder against mine so that I can feel the long, hard outline of his dick.

I want more than two minutes with that, but I’ll take what I can get. “I said dare, didn’t I? Wait, are there cameras in here?”

The wicked grin that splits his face is answer enough. “But doesn’t that make it better?”

“Dare,” I repeat.

He presses the button. The elevator screeches to a halt as his lips cover mine.

“I dare you to hold out,” he breathes against them. I lose that dare on the spot.

“You only have two minutes,” I taunt.

“With two minutes, I could get you there twice, but I think I’ll take my time.” I get the sense that isn’t a boast, but my heart sinks a little at the thought of having to wait. I have absolutely no intention of holding out on this one. Our mouths crush together as he slants his head, deepening the kiss, allowing his tongue to capture my own. When we break apart a few seconds later, we’re breathless, but I shake my head.

“You’re a good kisser, but you’re not that good, West.”

“I think you want to lose, Duchess. Now I’m going to make you wait even longer.” He bends his head, denying me his kiss, but only so that he can start the slow progress from my collarbone to the valley between my breasts. My eyes clamp shut as my head falls back, knocking against the mirror. When I feel the heat of his mouth settling over the peaks, I open one eye and watch as he slowly begins to suck it through the fabric of my tank and bra.

Seeing it is almost as amazing as actually feeling it. It might not be enough to get me there, but I’m not going to complain. After a few seconds, he switches to the other side, repeating the move until I’ve begun to whimper. Then he releases me, and it takes all my willpower not to grab his hair and shove him back where he belongs.

Jameson straightens up and traces a finger along the bow of my upper lip. “I could get you off that way,” he promises, “but I’m feeling very selfish tonight.” His finger runs along my lower lip, down my chin, and neck, forging a line down, down, down, until his hand reaches the waistband of my jeans. With one practiced move, he unbuttons them.

“Pink panties,” he says with approval. “God, you’re going to kill me, Duchess.”

In fact, I am going to kill him if he doesn’t finish what he started soon. I buck against the hand, still gripping my jeans. He takes the hint, and his hand flattens against my lower belly. He slides it past the thin satin of my panties, stopping just before he reaches the promised land.

“Look at me,” he commands. “Show me your green eyes, Duchess.”

I bite my lip as I open my eyes, trying to stay still.

“Still determined to win?” His finger slips to the precise point of my desire and begins to rub slow circles around it.