"Where are we going?" she asked, half laughing, half cautious.
He turned from the window and looked at her. "My hotel."
Something about the way he said it made her stomach twist—in a good way.
She heard someone get into the driver's seat and start the engine.
"The hotel, sir?" the driver asked.
He tore his gaze away from her, much to her annoyance, and looked ahead. "Yes."
'Fuck.' She groaned inwardly. Why did everything he said suddenly sound incredibly sexy?
"How far is your hotel from here?" she asked, not meaning to, but her voice came out husky.
She caught his eyes drop to her thighs. She hadn't noticed her short gown had ridden up to my butt because she couldn't sit still. She cursed herself silently. He was only looking at her, yet it was enough to drive her crazy. She sighed as his gaze lifted to her lips before he turned back to the window.
The car stopped. His hand wrapped carefully around her waist as he guided her inside the hotel, through the lobby, and to the room—though she couldn't see the number clearly; dizziness clouded her vision. He swiped his key card and stepped in, closing the door behind them.
She staggered, barely catching herself from falling.
He caught her just in time, his arms steadying her as she swayed. He tried to hide it, but the hunger and desire in his eyes betrayed his aching need for her. With a sigh, he took off his coat and walked past her.
"You can have the bed. I'll make myself comfortable on the couch after I've freshened up," she heard him say.
Now wearing a black shirt, he stood tall and handsome. His hair was still sleek, but there was something raw and roughly sexy about him. Sleep on the couch, he had said. After causing her to drip between her legs?
Hell to the fucking no.
She wanted him. She needed him and he is going to help her take her mind off everything.
"Get your mind off Hunter's dick," Suzette had said.
And maybe she was right. Maybe this was exactly what she needed.
Her eyes narrowed on his built frame. He had now freed the first three buttons of his shirt, exposing his bare chest to her hungry gaze. Mr. Crashed-my-car was just going to have to help me get my mind off it all.
"Fuck me," the words slipped out of her mouth before she could stop them.
His eyes widened as he saw a golden ring form around Gunther's eyes—that was never a good sign.
"What did you say?" he asked, voice low and tense.
She took a slow step toward him, deliberately closing the gap between them.
He wished she'd stop. Still, he wished she wouldn't.
She said nothing; she just kept walking toward him.
~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~
'Did she really know what she was getting herself into?'
Zion fought to control himself. He wasn't going to lose himself to her—not now. He told himself he would take a shower, and the bulge in his pants would subside.
But before he could escape, she planted herself firmly in front of him. He could feel her gaze burning through his skin, intense and unyielding.
He could feel that she wanted him now, and despite the indifferent mask he tried to wear, the undeniable growth in his pants said otherwise—he wanted her too.
"I said..." She placed a hand gently on his cheek.
His eyes dropped to her lips and lingered there, watching as they formed the next words she spoke.
"Fuck me."
Gunther growled deep within him.
He caught the faint bite of her lower lip just before he lost every ounce of self-control.
'Fuck it,' he hissed through gritted teeth.
With one swift grip, he pulled her flush against him and crashed his lips onto hers.
If he had thought he'd felt fire burn through him the first time her hands brushed against his skin, then this—right now—was hell itself, scorching and unrelenting.
His lips tangled with hers in a frenzy, devouring her mouth with a hunger he could no longer contain. He kissed her deeply, sucking on her lower lip, nipping at it occasionally with just enough pressure to elicit a gasp. Every time she moaned against him, soft and needy, a fresh wave of madness surged from his belly, spreading like wildfire through his veins. He had kissed women before—a whole lot of them, in fleeting moments and heated nights. But none had ever consumed him like this, none had ever left him aching for more, silently praying for her to pull him deeper into the abyss.
Her hands fisted in his shirt, tugging him closer, and Zion's resolve shattered further. Gunther's growl vibrated through his chest, urging him on, but he held back just enough to savor the taste of her—the sweet tang of alcohol mixed with something uniquely her, intoxicating and forbidden. He broke the kiss only to trail his lips along her jaw, down the curve of her neck, feeling her pulse race under his mouth.
"You're playing with fire," he murmured against her skin, his voice rough, laced with warning and want. But even as he said it, his hands roamed her sides, slipping under the hem of her gown, igniting them both.
She moaned softly, each stroke of his fingers tracing her spine sending shivers through her body. Every kiss he planted on her neck made her panties dampen with desire. She ached for his lips—not the ones on her face, but the ones that promised something deeper, something more.
His hands cupped the curve of her butt as he sank his teeth into the nape of her neck, marking her with his hunger.
"Zion," she whispered against his ear.
The moment his name escaped her lips, his eyes darkened with a fierce intensity. A new wave of hunger surged through him, raw and uncontrollable.
He was mad—mad with desire, mad with hunger, mad with need. And she was the cause of it.
Never—never before had Zion Ashcroft wanted a woman as badly as he wanted her.
Exasperated by the building tension, she gripped the hem of his black shirt, her fingers trembling with anticipation.
He leaned back slightly, his gaze dropping to where her hands clung to the fabric, possessive and unyielding.
When he lifted his eyes to her face, he found hers locked on the sliver of his chest revealed by the open buttons. Her gaze was dark, heavy with need, devouring the sight of him. She traced the trail of dark chest hairs with her eyes, imagining the feel of them under her fingertips—coarse and inviting. She wanted to run her hands through them, to touch, feel, and taste every inch of his sculpted body, to map out the strength hidden beneath.
Emboldened, she placed her fingers on the fourth button, slowly undoing it with deliberate care. His dark eyes never left her face, watching intently as she worked her way through the remaining buttons, one by one, exposing more of his heated skin to the cool air of the room. Each pop of a button echoed like a promise, drawing them deeper into the fire they'd ignited. Zion's breath grew ragged, his control fraying as her hands brushed against him, but he held still, letting her take the lead—for now.
Her hands danced up to his shoulders, fingers tracing the hard lines of muscle there, as her eyes locked onto his with a smoldering intensity. She bit her lower lip softly, a subtle gesture that sent a jolt straight through him, making him grow impossibly harder in his pants, his body responding to her every unspoken invitation.
With a determined tug, she peeled his shirt from his body, sliding the sleeves down his powerful arms. He stood motionless, his dark eyes fixed on her, drinking in the sight of her taking control. He was enjoying it—every deliberate movement, every flicker of desire in her gaze—relishing the way she unraveled him without a word.
She tossed the shirt aside carelessly, the expensive fabric crumpling against the cool marble floor without a second thought.
Then, she crashed her lips onto his once more, leaning into him with a fierce urgency. His bare chest pressed against her, the heat of his skin brushing her aching breasts through the thin barrier of her gown, igniting sparks that made her gasp into the kiss.
Mad with hunger, she captured his hand in hers and guided it firmly to her breast, pressing his palm against the soft swell. His eyes widened against her face, surprise mingling with raw lust as he felt the rapid beat of her heart beneath his touch. She was taking from him boldly, yet more than eager to give everything in return. And Zion—he would give her all he had, every guarded piece of himself, and take every ounce of pleasure she was willing to offer, pulling her deeper into the storm they were unleashing. His fingers flexed instinctively, kneading her gently through the fabric, drawing a needy whimper from her throat that only fueled the fire raging between them.
She broke their kiss and looked up at him, a mischievous smirk playing on her lips. Without hesitation, she pushed him firmly by the chest until his back crashed against the wall.