Chapter 14 14
His mouth covered hers, devoured with savage need as his hands climbed up her satin-covered spine and crushed her to him. It was all-consuming, as he'd known it would be. Hot and fast and too private to be seen in public. His body was hard, hers firm and yielding against his.
"Whoa, Maynard!" he heard from somewhere in the distance, and he pulled back. His breathing was hard.
"Can it, Reese," he said to his buddy without taking his gaze from Alana's.
"Sir, yes sir," came the playful response.
"Let's get out of here?" The words came like a question.
She blinked and licked her lips. "We aren't gone yet?"
He smiled and let her go grab her purse. Then they rushed from the club.
During the cab ride to the hotel, he didn't touch her, didn't kiss her, not trusting himself if he did. He only held her hand. It was the most erotic thing he'd ever done. Fingers laced, palms tight. Intimate. More than he'd been with any woman in a very long time.
At the hotel he climbed out of the cab, paid the driver and took Alana's hand again as they entered the building and stepped into the elevator. He couldn't look at her. Her body was still imprinted on him from the dance.
He still felt her warmth. Smelled her scent. It was eating him up inside.
People smiled and nodded. People got on and off and the elevator kept moving. Slowly, slowly. Then, finally, they were alone, the only ones in the elevator shooting to the top floors. He couldn't stand it and turned toward her.
She smiled, reaching for him at the same time, and when he backed her up against the wall, he kissed her like a madman. And she answered him, clinging, her mouth hot and wild beneath his. Stefan felt himself fracturing inside. She grasped his hand and put it on her thigh, under the slit in her gown, and Stefan groaned, driving it higher, feeling the stockings, then skin. He cupped her buttocks and wedged her closer.
Little soft sounds came from her, and he wanted to hear more, hear her cry out with pleasure. Then he dipped his hand between her thighs, rubbing. She gasped, her fingers digging into his shoulders as he stroked her.
She broke their kiss, whispered, "This is so naughty."
And he said, "Yeah, I know. I'll never forget it," then hooked the edge of her panties and pushed a finger deep inside her.
"Oh, Stefan," she said, bowing away from the wall, gasping for air.
Stefan toyed with her, a single fingertip sliding over slick, soft flesh. Her panting breath tumbled from her lips and filled the elevator. He introduced another finger.
"Oh, my!"
"Oh, yes," he growled, kissing her throat. She was wet and slick and tense against him, tuned for the explosion. Then the ping of the elevator made them draw apart, both moaning in disappointment. He muttered a curse and when the doors opened, grabbed her hand and damn near ran to his room.
The hall was empty and he fumbled with the key card. She took it, met his gaze, then inserted it in the slot. The door sprang open and he dragged her inside, kicked it closed and pushed her against the door. She laughed at his impatience and he kissed her. Deep and heavy and thick.
She popped the buttons of his dress white jacket and kicked off her shoes.
He toed off his own and shrugged out of the stiff coat. Then she turned around, her hands braced on the door. Stefan pulled the zipper of her satin dress down. His eyes flared and his body tightened when he saw the matching lavender bra and panties. He laid kisses down her spine, taking the dress with him as he did, and when it was a pile on the floor, he turned her around and looked his fill.
"Man, oh man," was all he could say.
She arched a brow and unhooked her bra. His gaze raked her, his breathing quickened, and he stripped off his T-shirt. She grasped his wrists and placed his hands over her breasts. Stefan didn't need encouragement. He was ready for her now. Had been ready for this for two long weeks.
Each time he'd brushed against her, electricity shot through him. Each time she'd smiled or laughed, he felt alive and rewarded. He rubbed her breasts, his palms brushing over her nipples. They hardened and he couldn't wait to taste them. Then he did, taking one nipple into the heat of his mouth and sucking deeply. Her leg lifted, her foot sliding up his calf.
Alana felt her world tilt and shift. Pleasure radiated outward from her breasts, singing through her like music, making her blood run fast and hot and to the rhythm of Stefan's touch. He nibbled and licked and her nerve endings grew taut. His teeth scored, his tongue soothed, over her breasts, her ribs and lower. Deliciously lower.
He caught his thumbs in the sides of her panties and drew them down as he sank to his knees. He touched and kissed her legs, hands smoothing down to her toes, then back up. Then he hooked her knee and drew it over his shoulder.
He met her gaze. She smiled, running her finger over his lips.
Then he tasted her. And everything she knew shattered.
"Stefan…," she groaned softly.
His tongue plunged and laved and flicked, and she cried out, wanting more. She was greedy for this man. Greedy for everything she could get because she more than liked him, much more, and she knew he would leave, knew he'd disappear into the mist. A quiet warrior. It was his job, his life. There was only right now. And she wanted all he had. And he gave it, finding and teasing every sensitive pulse point, every bit of flesh that was charged and waiting for ignition. He lit the fuse and she burned. Oh, how she burned!
Stefan felt it, the spiral of heat racing through her, the tightening of her muscles, the liquid softness of her desire. He spread her wider and thrust two fingers inside her.
Desire exploded, shuddering through her, clutching at him.
"Stefan!" she moaned.