Burn Me Once - Page 9

He removes his hand from between my legs and his desertion is a wave that flushes me with ice. I grind my hips impatiently and make a whimpering sound as his flat palm drags up my body, over the softness of my clothes to the curves of my breast. He rolls his hand across me as though I am an object and he its owner. His touch sends spirals of fire deep into my body, affecting me on a cellular level.

I make a gurgling sound and laugh, pushing up to kiss him harder, to let my breasts flatten his hand between us. We are wedged together and my hands are curled around his neck and, God, he tastes and feels amazing. Better than amazing.

Finally the cab pulls to a stop and I am flushed with relief—until I realise it’s a stop sign.

‘You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,’ he snaps, his brow furrowed as he shoots an impatient look through the glass of his windscreen.

He feels it too, then. This need that is reverberating through the back of the cab somewhere in the middle of Park Avenue. It makes me feel inexplicably relieved, knowing that I’m not the only one out here on this limb.

He turns to look at me and I laugh at the bewilderment on his features.

‘I swear to God, if this takes much longer...’

I totally get it. Hadn’t I just been thinking the same thing?

I swallow, trying to bring moisture back into my parched mouth. My hand is still on his chest; I can feel the rapid beating of his heart. Thump, thump, thump.

Craning my head around, I can just make out the street sign that shows we’re on the corner of Park Avenue and East Twenty-Second. ‘You said the Gramercy?’


‘It’s like a block away. Let’s walk.’

He arches a brow, and heat simmers through me as he reaches forward and taps on the glass.

‘We’ll get out here.’

He tosses some money through the window and winks at me, opening the door and stepping out so that he can hold it wide for me. I follow, my foot landing on the pavement for the briefest moment before his arm wraps around my waist and draws me to him.

I don’t think the cab has even driven off before his lips are back on mine, with renewed intensity and urgency. His body is strong and he pushes me easily, guiding me to the sandstone wall of some building. It’s cold and hard behind me, and he’s hard and hot against me, his body all angles and planes and thick strong legs surrounding me, holding me still as he grinds against me. His arms are my cage and, oh, the sweetness of being trapped by him!

His mouth holds my head to the wall and I devour him as he devours me, my hands curling around his back to find the waistband of his jeans. I slide my fingers beneath his shirt, groaning as warm skin rewards my seeking. It’s so soft and smooth beneath me. I draw my fingertips on a slow exploration higher, along the ridges of his spine and then to his sides, to hips that are carved and firm.


He groans into my mouth, wrenching his head away—and it is a wrench. Every line of his body speaks to that. It is as though he’s had to fight his way through quicksand just to find space between us.

Maybe it’s the whole rock star thing. Maybe it makes him sexier than mortals. I don’t know. This is so not normal, though. Is it for him?

‘I need to get you to my hotel. Now.’

I nod, not even bothering to argue with him. But there’s a frown between his eyes, just like I always get.

I lift my finger to it, absentmindedly exploring the groove. ‘What’s wrong?’

The line deepens. He has a dimple in his cheek and when he frowns it’s deliciously seductive.

‘Nothing. I...’ And then he shakes his head, steps back, reaches for my hand.

We’ve just been simulating sex with our clothes on, and yet there is something bizarrely intimate about the simple act of lacing our fingers together. His, mine, his, mine, his, mine—in and out, they are woven together, and it’s a new kind of coming together.

‘Let’s go.’

I nod, not sure I’m capable of speech anyway.

After a few paces he looks at me with an almost embarrassed grin. ‘You look like you’ve been thoroughly felt up.’

‘Felt up?’ I laugh. ‘I guess I have been, now that you mention it.’

He squeezes my hand and I lift my other hand to run it over my hair. Always difficult to contain, it is beyond wild now. His fingers have done that. The knowledge makes my tummy flip.

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