Still the One

“Hey, I look damn good in this dress.”

He met her gaze and heat coiled low in his belly and headed south from there. He took a moment to take in her features, those wide greener-than-green eyes, the flush on her cheeks, her delicious-looking mouth. He heard her quick, sharp inhale in response, and knew no matter what was going on between them—temper, resentments, whatever—in that moment she wanted him as much as he wanted her.

Well, she could have him however she wanted him, and if she wasn’t sure in what way that might be, he had plenty of ideas for the both of them. God, she drove him up the wall, batshit crazy, in the worst of ways and the best of ways.

She stared right back at him, torturing her full lower lip between her teeth. Fact was, her mouth had been his undoing from the first time they’d kissed, in that bar parking lot. “Baby, good doesn’t begin to even touch how you look in that dress.”

Utter confusion filled her gaze.

Don’t do it, soldier, he ordered himself. Don’t. Go. There.

But either his hands had a mind of their own or they overruled his brain, because he gripped her arms.

Apparently he was totally going there. “You look hot as hell.”

Still confused, she shook her head. “And that’s a problem because … ?”

He pushed her up against the wall of the elevator and slid a hard thigh between hers.

“Oh,” she breathed. Staring up at him, her fingers slid along the nape of his neck and into his hair, holding him to her.

Not necessary. He wasn’t going anywhere. To prove it, he lowered his head and kissed her, soft at first, until she moaned, muttered something against his mouth, and slapped her hands to his chest. For a beat it could have gone either way, her shoving him clear or pulling him in.

In, he thought. God, please in …

As if she could read his mind, she slid her hands inside his suit jacket and fisted his shirt at his back, holding on tight.

And then they were fighting to get closer to each other, the kiss now hard and demanding, her mouth wet and hot and desperate on his.

And that’s when he knew. One kiss wasn’t going to be enough. Nothing short of stripping her naked to run his mouth over every inch of her would be enough, and he doubted even that could satisfy him.

God, she was the sweetest, hottest thing he’d ever tasted and she was right there with him, lost in the kiss. And even though he was a guy who never forgot his surroundings, he did exactly that.

The elevator disappeared.

Hell, they could’ve been on the moon for all he noticed. His heart kept skipping beats and he couldn’t get close enough. The taste of her made him realize he’d been starving for this, for her, and the way she melted against him in such soft, delicious, perfect surrender went straight through him in waves of intense pleasure.

He had absolutely zero reason to be doing this, not one single good reason, in fact had entire volumes of bad reasons. Not that this stopped him. The low ache in his body kept demanding more, so he pulled her in a little closer, a little tighter, opening his mouth wider on hers, needing to get inside of her, even if just for a moment.

And again, she was right there with him, moving against him, her breasts pressing into his chest as she made the sexiest sound of acquiescence he’d ever heard. Sliding a hand down her back, he cupped her ass and then the back of her thigh, lifting her leg, drawing it up around his waist to rock into her. “Darcy.”

A helpless moan of arousal was her only response as her dress rose to dangerous heights. Her fingers were very busy in his waistband, gliding beneath, driving him right out of his ever-loving mind, because in another few seconds she’d have him in the palm of her hand, literally, and he’d be hers.

Rocking her hips to his, rubbing against the erection now threatening to burst his zipper, she was giving him a little taste of what she’d be like in bed. He wanted to hike her dress up to her chin, tear off whatever she wore beneath, and bury himself inside her. Instead he buried his face into the curve of her neck and groaned. More. That’s all he could think. Not ready to surface, he slid his fingers into her hair and held her head as he once again kissed her, slowly, thoroughly, with long, lazy strokes of his tongue that had her practically climbing up his body.

He liked that, a whole lot, and going with the insanity plea, he was heading beneath her dress with nefarious intent when he heard someone’s throat clearing.

Darcy shoved clear of him so fast his head spun. AJ was much slower to disengage, but yeah, the elevator doors had opened.

They were still on Darcy’s floor.

“No worries,” the man standing there said, looking embarrassed. “I’ll … take the next one.”

The doors closed.

“You never pushed the lobby button,” Darcy said, her voice husky.

Right. Jesus. He tore his eyes off of her and punched the button for the lobby, barely resisting thunking his head against the steel doors a few times. He probably could have convinced himself that it had been just a kiss—if she hadn’t looked at him right then.

It was the damnedest thing, but time seemed to stop.

Darcy swallowed hard but held the eye contact, nibbling on her lower lip, and God help him but he figured out exactly what this and the warning bells going off in his head were. Yeah, he knew, and he so didn’t need this, didn’t want this, but that didn’t seem to mean a damn.

You. Are. So. Screwed …

Neither of them spoke on the ride down, the only sound being their still-labored breathing. AJ decided to take some comfort in the fact that she appeared to be having just as much trouble as he was. As the elevator slowed and then stopped, he reached out and hit the Close Door button and held it.