10
Lana poked the button outside the elevator, looking back over her shoulder at the penthouse suite doors.
This had to be a sign. She didn’t want to have random sex with Ken, or Callum or whatever his bloody name was.
The only name on her lips was, Marcus. She wondered if the other members needed a spark of sexual attraction, or was it just the thrill of being with a random person that got them off?
It must be the act of doing something illicit and naughty without consequences that kept them coming back. Her prospective ice breaker didn’t incite any desire, not like Marcus had.
Just his name alone made her swoon and her pulse skip.
The elevator doors retracted to her sanctuary, only this time it was occupied. There he stood, one arm raised high, leaning on the mirrored wall, his head lowered.
Her breath caught.
Marcus.
Her thoughts scrambled and she tried to make sense of why he was standing there, silently staring at her.
The man who made her climax with only his fingers and showered her skin with electrifying goose bumps was gazing her way with mesmerising eyes and a look she couldn’t decipher.
This same man used his overwhelming sexual attraction to lure her in and then set her adrift.
It was one hundred percent consensual, yet she hated the audacity of his quick brush off and the unexpected heat that was now stirring between her legs.
She wanted him to kiss her again, to feel the warmth of his body close to hers and in that second, she wondered if he felt the same.
His handsome face wore a wolfish smile, with searching eyes framed by thick black lashes, and his stance was domineering and powerful.
“We meet again, Lana Craig.”
Her heart pumped so fast that her head felt dizzy and she stepped back from the elevator, dipping her chin to break away from his intense spell.
After her second step back, his hand slid down the wall. “Get in, Lana.” His voice was cold and stern.
“Fuck you,” she blasted out.
“Get in, Lana.” He stepped closer.
“Why? Because I messed up, again? For your information, Mr McGrath, the key card wouldn’t work. It wasn’t my fault this time. So, you can’t chuck me out, you…you, brute!” she stammered.
The corners of his mouth curved upward. “Brute? I’ve been called many names, but I don’t think that’s been used in this century.”
The alcohol had made her weary, she put her back against the wall, swept her hair out from behind and flipped it over her shoulder, letting her silky tresses cascade over her breasts.
She sighed. “I can’t get in that elevator with you.”
She wanted to, oh boy, did she want to. The throbbing heat between her legs begged her to step inside his lair, only that was the problem. She wanted him more than any man she had ever met, including Rory.
In one stride he was before her with this large hand held out. “Come on, Lana. Get in.”
Slowly, she reached out and set her tiny hand in his. A delightful rush of adrenaline tingled down her neck and she held her breath as he escorted her inside the elevator.
Reluctantly, she yanked her hand free from his grip when the door shut and the walls closed in. The air was thick in the confines of the small space, with his musky cologne forever ingrained on her senses as the one smell that would eternally make her heart swoop.
A deep desire to taste his perfectly shaped lips both overwhelmed and terrified her.
She cleared her throat. “I’m not going to have sex with you, Marcus.” Her tone lacked conviction.