She leaps without warning, and I catch her under her thighs, lifting her just as she wraps her legs around me. Without conscious thought, I carry her into the living room, still kissing, and lay her on the couch on her back. Her dress rides up between us as I settle my hips between her thighs, holding myself up to lick at her mouth.
She arches, rubbing herself against my straining erection. Blood rushes in my ears. I grapple with the quickly unraveling threads of my self-control.
I kiss down her neck and run my lips against her collarbone and my finger plays with the strap of her dress before trailing lower. “Is this okay?”
“Yes. Please.”
Holding myself up with one arm, I use the other hand to carefully, slip the strap off her shoulder, tugging the top of the dress down. Sweet Jesus. She’s not wearing a bra. My breath stutters to a halt in my lungs.
Her hands skate up my arms to cup my face. I focus on her eyes. She smiles. Her head turns, and she brushes a kiss against my forearm where the rigid limb is supporting my weight.
The affectionate movement nearly breaks me in two. The world shudders to halt, my vision going black.
“Are you okay?” Her thumb strokes my cheek.
“I…” Every time she touches me like I mean something to her, it’s as if I’ve been ripped apart and then pieced back together. How can I ever be the same?
My phone rings. I blink down at her, the real world rushing back in. Dragging myself off Piper, I pull my phone out of my pocket and sit on the couch.
It’s Brienne. It must be an emergency. She knows what no interruptions means.
“I have to take this,” I tell Piper. “Brienne.” I put the phone to my ear.
Piper sits up next to me, straightening her dress.
“Carson is here, sir, and he’s, uh, unwell. He is insistent on speaking with you. I’ve told him you’re otherwise occupied, but he’s—” There’s a crash and a thud on the other line. “Will someone pick him up?” she calls out.
“Brienne.”
“Yes, sir?”
“Speak plainly.”
“He’s drunk. And crying. A lot. And he just tried to throw himself into the trash can.”
I take in Piper—the concern in her eyes, her cheeks still flushed with desire, her lips pink and swollen. I swallow back the curse words threatening to erupt. My eyes fall shut.
“Send him up.” I end the call and chuck the phone onto the coffee table before leaning over and wrapping my arms around Piper’s waist, dropping my forehead onto her shoulder, taking a second to inhale.
“Is everything okay?” She lifts a hand to my shoulder, and the other rubs my neck in light, soothing motions.
“Carson is here. He’s on his way up and apparently inebriated. I knew something was wrong with him.” I draw back.
Her expression is troubled. “I hope he’s okay.”
Me too. “We’ll see in a second.”
Through extreme force of will, I remove my hands from Piper and push to standing, taking a deep breath before heading to the elevator. Piper follows, her tread light behind me. I glance at her. The shoes are gone—on the floor somewhere probably. She’s adjusting her clothes, smoothing her hair. I like her like this, shoeless and slightly mussed.
“You look beautiful.” I tug her into me and give her a quick, hard kiss before turning my attention to the man stumbling out of the elevator.
Carson’s pink tie is tugged loose and his cuffs unbuttoned. His hair sticks up like he’s been running rough fingers through the usually perfect coiffure. His eyes are red rimmed and bleary.
“I’m sorry, sir. I didn’t want to bother you, but I didn’t know where else to go.” He slumps against the wall.
Piper rushes over to him and touches his arm. “Were you robbed?”
He waves a clumsy hand. “No. Nothing like that.”