Sasha licks Skye’s face for a few seconds but then grows bored and heads somewhere else in the penthouse.
Skye nods toward the black lacquer grand piano that sits in one corner. “Do you play?”
“No.”
“Then why do you have a piano?”
“I hire a pianist for my parties,” I say. “Guests love it. Do you play?”
She shakes her head. “We didn’t have a piano. My dad plays the guitar, though.”
I lead her to the piano, where a guitar also sits. “I do, too. Just dabble really. But I love playing classical guitar and then of course some folk songs. All acoustic stuff.”
I hope she doesn’t ask me to play something, though. In truth, I haven’t touched my guitar in ages. My business occupies most of my time, a big reason why I’m not wired for any kind of long-term relationship. I have my own way of working off steam, something I hope will interest the gorgeous woman in front of me. For now, though? I’ll settle for a good old-fashioned fuck.
In and out, wham, bam, and thank you, Ms. Manning. I close the distance between us and gaze down at her, zeroing in on her mouth again. I trail a finger over her upper lip and then her lower. “I’ve wanted to kiss those full lips since I saw you at Addie’s office. You have the sexiest mouth I’ve ever seen.”
I crush my mouth to hers.
Her lips are already parted, and I thrust my tongue between them.
She’s as soft and supple as I imagined, and she tastes of crisp wine and sweet spice. I deepen the kiss, and she kisses me back as if her life depends on it.
My cock is at full attention now. Full attention—from a goddamned kiss.
A tiny groan, more a vibration than a sound, begins in my throat. Her hands drift up my arms to my neck, and she entwines her fingers in my hair. I need a haircut, but with her next move, I may never get another. She grabs my hair and pulls slightly, a gesture I feel all the way to my toes.
I growl into her mouth and roughly tug on her ponytail, my tongue still tangling with hers. We kiss and we kiss and we kiss until—
“Bedroom,” I gasp, breaking the kiss. “God, I want to fuck you so bad. I need to get inside that tight little body of yours.”
I need to touch her—her face, her neck, her shoulders.
Undress her, lock my gaze onto those awesome tits of hers, pinch her nipples until she squeals, slide my fingers between her legs, feel how ready she is for me.
And she’s ready. Already her musk has perfumed the air in my penthouse. I inhale, close my eyes, inhale again.
Then I grab her hand and guide her down the hallway toward the closed door at the end.
My bedroom.
I touch the brushed brass doorknob, ready to turn it.
She bites her lip. “No.”
Frustration wells inside me, and I narrow my eyes. “Excuse me?”
She clears her throat. “No. I can’t do this. We barely know each other.”
I stare at her. Force myself not to glare at her.
Why is she resisting?
She’s turned on, clearly. Her heart is thumping so hard and fast that I can actually see her breasts move. Her cheeks and chest are red with blood flow, and— I inhale. Yes, no mistaking the fragrance.
Fuck. Now I want her even more. I didn’t think that was possible.
But it’s her choice.