Page 27 of Hot Nights in Morocco
“I can’t do this.”
Wait. What?
I stagger backward, gasping, seeing stars. Trying to catch my breath and make sense of what just happened. He’s standing a few meters away. His palms are resting against the front door, his head lowered, eyes shut tight, his breathing ragged.
“I’m not the right man for you,” he says harshly. He turns to face me and his expression is bleak. Haunted. “I’ll get you a hotel room for tonight. I have a suite at the—”
“I don’t want a hotel room, Jake.”
There’s so much about him that makes me want to run away, but it’s too late now. I’ve had a glimpse. I’ve had a taste.
“You don’t know what you’re consenting to,” he warns, but there’s a fire slowly reigniting in his eyes. He stares at me for a moment, assessing his next move, and then he’s coming in fast.
Too fast.
My breath hitches and I brace myself for impact. Cupping my face, he pulls me against the length of his body and we smash together like two comets colliding, his rock-hard erection grinding into the soft curve of my stomach. Our lips hover within touching distance before he loses control again and slams his mouth down onto mine.
His kisses are deeper this time, his tongue darting expertly into my mouth, ruining me, devastating me. With one hand clutching the back of my head, he trails the other down my spine, my bare skin burning like red-hot cinders at his touch.
“Put your arms around me,” he orders, somehow wrenching the front door open and steering me backward into his mansion. “We’re taking this inside.”
Oh, God. This is real. This is happening.
He pins me against the nearest wall, his cock as unforgiving as the look in his eyes, talking to me constantly as his fingers trace the front of my dress.
“The things I want to do to you tonight, Books… I’m going to corrupt those pretty pages of your imagination with my kind of filth.”
Any earlier conflict is forgotten. He’s firmly in the moment now.
“What’s inside might shock even you,” I murmur as the lobby starts to spin above my head.
He growls approvingly. “Then let’s fuck the fiction out of both of us. One night only. I can’t offer you more than that.”
“Fine by me.”
I’ll agree to anything to keep his hands on my body.
I kiss him again as final confirmation, grabbing fistfuls of black, sweet-smelling hair. It feels like I imagined it would—like the softest of silks. He moans long and deep as his hands start to explore, running his knuckles up the inside of my leg until he reaches the apex of my thighs. He skims his fingers across the fabric of my soaking panties, teasing and testing, taunting me with the heat of his touch, and then yanking them to one side.
“You’re so fucking wet for me,” he states, palming my sex roughly.
Panting, I grind my hips into his hand, my self-control in tatters.He had to be dirty as hell, as well.
He releases me and takes a step back. “Turn.”
The delicate zipper on my dress disintegrates and the material pools around my feet like a shimmering silver lake. I kick it away and spin back around. His eyes are blazing into mine as he drags his jacket from his shoulders. His bow tie falls to the floor, followed by his white dress shirt. I risk a glance downward and my breath hitches. He’s all carved, sun-kissed muscle, with just a smattering of dark hair covering his chest and lower torso.
“I don’t go easy on women,” he says, bunching a fist around my hair and angling my face toward his. “Don’t expect me to be gentle.”
“Good,” I gasp out, feeling the pinch of his touch at my scalp. “No one likes a movie that fails to live up to the hype.”
The corners of his lips twist. “You and that fucking mouth of yours. Are you scared?”
“No,” I lie, swallowing hard. “Should I be?”
His gaze dips to the nervous slide in my throat. He chuckles but doesn’t answer. I’m vaguely aware that he’s inching us toward the antique sideboard, and I allow myself to be led, dancing slowly across the monochrome tiles with him in our very own lovemaking waltz, until I feel the chill of polished wood against the base of my spine. He lifts me easily, settling me down on the edge, parting my legs and positioning himself between them.
“Lift your hips.”
