‘Have a good evening, folks,’ the bartender called after them, stuffing what Gina suspected was a hefty tip into his pocket.
She blew the guy a cheeky kiss, letting impulse take over as Carter led her out of the bar.
What harm could one night do, now? Carter Price was here and available—and hotter than ever. And they’d both changed so much from who they were then. But one thing had never changed. How easily he could send her senses reeling—until desire flowed through her veins like a heady drug. And if the only thing standing between her and complete closure was that lingering hunger—didn’t she owe it to herself to give in to temptation one last time? And get a definitive answer to that question? Now she had the chance?
She’d waited ten years, for goodness’ sake. Surely that was long enough?
She might have turned over a new leaf, but she wasn’t a nun!
FIVE
Are you out of your freaking mind?
Carter clasped Gina’s hand, headed across the lobby towards the elevators and felt as if he were charging back in time.
Ten years. Ten long, life-altering years since that one dumb act of self-destruction. And he hadn’t learned a damn thing, because all he could think about, all he could focus on, was the urge to get into Gina Carrington’s panties all over again.
The hunger that had gripped him as soon as he’d seen her sweeping through the hotel lobby—convinced she had to be some kind of weird erotic apparition brought on by jet lag and frustration—had been gnawing at his gut all night. He’d managed to dial down the intensity for two solid hours, talking about his business to keep his mind out of his pants—but the insistent ache had snapped and snarled throughout like an angry dog.
Every time she swung her head and that up-do threatened to tumble down. Every time she puckered up round her straw and he felt the tug in his groin. Every time her voice lowered to make a point and the sultry purr prickled over his skin like a cat testing its claws.
As the night had drawn on he’d gotten fixated on the ache, and accepted the fact there was no way in hell he was going to be able to walk away tonight.
The elevator took an eternity to creep up to the fifteenth floor crowded with tourists and businessmen and the woman standing beside him, whose fingers remained cool and firm in his. His grip tightened as they finally escaped the crush and he strode down the corridor towards his suite.
He heard a muffled curse behind him. ‘Carter, slow down, before I break an ankle.’
He stopped as she stumbled on those killer heels. The urge to pick her up and throw her over his shoulder was so strong—he went with it. No way was he risking a broken ankle putting this booty call in jeopardy.
‘Carter, what are you doing?’ she yelped as he dipped, scooped her up and swung round, her legs flailing as her lush butt pressed into the side of his head. ‘Put me down, for goodness’ sake.’
‘Not a chance.’
‘I can walk!’ The protest came out in breathless pants as her stomach rode his shoulder blade.
‘Not fast enough for my liking.’
‘This is so undignified,’ she announced, but the husky laugh spurred him on, reminding him of the bad girl she’d been. Good to know that girl was still there beneath all the poise and professionalism—and the dumb apology.
He balanced her on his shoulder as he slipped his keycard into the slot on the door of his suite—amazed his fingers were steady enough to get the thing to work the first time.
Kicking the door open, he marched into the room and dropped her on her feet. The night-time view of the Hudson River displayed by the suite’s glass walls had taken his breath away the first time he’d stayed at The Standard. It barely even registered now as all his attention zeroed in on the woman framed by the panoramic cityscape. An errant curl cupped one flushed cheek while her uneven breathing tightened the silk across that
amazing rack. Right now, he could have been staying in a Motel 6 and he would have felt like a king.
He grabbed her wrist, dragged her to him. ‘Come here.’
‘I am here,’ she announced, the haughty tone calling to his inner caveman.
He plucked the pins out of her hair, let the mass of soft brown hair cascade into his hands. ‘I want it down.’
She laughed, shaking her head until the riot of curls bounced over her shoulders. ‘Do you now,’ she murmured, draping her arms round his neck and twisting a finger in the hair at his nape.
‘Yeah.’ He held her head, nipped at her bottom lip, then feasted on that soft mouth, his tongue thrusting deep—his hunger intensifying when she thrust back.
He pulled away, his breathing harsh at the sight of her reddened lips, the dark dilated pupils.
‘When did you become such a Neanderthal?’ she asked, her tongue licking the spot where he’d nipped her.