by Ember Cole
“You,” she snaps out, “are hardly a priest.”
“Can’t argue with that.”
Her green eyes blaze with fury, and I’m pretty sure now’s not the right time to point out that a button just popped open on her blouse. I’ve heard the term “heaving bosoms” in old-timey movies, but I never got it until now.
She blows a few strands of hair off her forehead and glares at me. “So you were eavesdropping,” she says again. “You were lurking up there like some kind of creeper—”
“Hey, you called for help, I came to help.” I wave my hands in a ta-da motion, sending a ripple of breeze that flutters her skirt up. Damn.
Bekka stares down at me for a few beats, then unfolds her arms. For a second I think she’s going to sit down beside me. My skin’s already buzzing at the thought of her flesh in such close proximity. She takes a step closer. Picks up one foot.
And stomps on my knee.
“Ow.”
“I just need to climb up to—”
“No,” I say, grabbing her by the waist again and yanking her down. No easy task since she’s gripping the handrail. “You are not using me as a goddamn ladder.”
“Why not? You’re tall enough to be one.” She looks frantic but determined. “If I could just get out the way you came in here—”
“Absolutely not.” I drag her to the floor so she’s sitting beside me, like it or not. Her pert little ass feels amazing nestled beside me, and it takes me a second to remember what we were talking about. “Can you imagine the liability if I let you go climbing out on top of the elevator car?”
“No.” She crosses her arms again and looks at me.
“Well, I can, and it’s not pretty.” I reach into my back pocket and yank out the granola bar I’m hoping isn’t crushed to bits. “Here. Just sit quietly and eat this. We’ll be out of here in no time.”
She stares at me. Her mouth opens, but no sound comes out, and I know that’s a bad sign. Something’s boiling up inside her, and the blowup is going to be massive. I know a thing or two about redirecting pent-up energy, but there’s no weight bench in this elevator, and push-ups take up too much room.
You know other ways to blow off steam.
My dick is on board with all of them.
“How dare you!” Bekka fumes, flinging the granola bar aside. “Of all the condescending—”
I lunge for her with all the grace of a mortar, silencing the rest of the tirade with my mouth. Her lips are softer than I expected, and she tastes like ripe strawberries.
I keep it slow, threading my fingers into her hair, feeling out how she’s going to react.
For a second I think she might bite or punch me in the nuts.
But her response is the opposite. She melts against me, kissing back with a fierceness that sucks the breath from my lungs. What started as a gentle kiss careens into turbulent territory as her mouth opens and I graze her tongue with mine. Jesus, she’s soft. Soft, but fierce, if that’s even a thing. She rakes her nails across my scalp, angling my head to deepen the kiss.
I’m not complaining.
I kiss her back, sliding my hands down her shoulder blades and into the curve of her waist. Her whole body vibrates with energy, and she’s kissing like she wants to devour me. Like she’s been starving for this for years.
She frees one fist from my hair and scrapes her fingers down my chest, clawing at my shirt while she digs her nails into my scalp. Her hands are everywhere at once, grabbing my chest, squeezing my ass, pawing at the growing bulge in the front of my jeans. The frantic energy of her hands is making me mindless and dizzy and pretty fucking turned on.
She’s panting when she breaks the kiss, and her eyes are on fire. Her breasts rise and fall in the open vee of her blouse, and I catch a faint whiff of flowers.
She licks her lips, and I know what’s coming. The words shoot straight to my dick before she says them out loud.
“I want you,” she says. “Now.”
Hoo-fucking-ah.
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BOOKS BY EMBER COLE
STIFF DISCIPLINE
PRIVATE PRICK
UNLAWFUL ENTRY
SEVEN BROTHERS AND A VIRGIN
Table of Contents
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EPILOGUE
Sneak Peek of Private Prick
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Books by Ember Cole