Page 6 of The Heartbreaker (Chandler Brothers 3)
Her heart pounded hard in her chest as they entered the elevator and the doors closed behind them.
His intense gaze met hers. “I didn’t go out tonight looking for this, but”—he shrugged as if unsure how to continue—“I’m glad I ran into you.”
She smiled, understanding what he meant. She hadn’t come to the bar looking for a one-night stand, merely to forget her troubles or at least drown them for a little while. But one look into his eyes and she’d been captivated.
For her, the night could have had no other ending. “I wasn’t on any kind of manhunt myself.” She let out a self-conscious laugh. “But I’m glad I found you too.”
He braced one hand against the wall above her shoulder. He was tall, his presence overpowering, and yet his calm demeanor and slow, easy manner made her feel comfortable. Safe. And mesmerized by those gorgeous blue eyes, she was able to forget everything but him. And that, Sloane realized, was her main objective.
“I think it’s about time we exchange first names.” A persuasive smile tilted his lips.
First names. She could handle that, she thought, until she realized Sloane was too distinctive, too recognizable in Washington, since her father was planning to put his hat in the proverbial ring. “Faith,” she said, using her middle name.
“Pretty,” he said in a gruff voice. He twirled a strand of hair around his finger, the light tug against her scalp curiously arousing. “I’m Chase.”
She grinned. “It suits you. Don’t ask me why.”
Laughing, he wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her close. His masculine scent surrounded her, a potent aphrodisiac. His head dipped lower, but before he could make a move, the elevator doors glided open, leaving her lips tingling, waiting for the touch of the unknown.
Grasping her hand, he led her to his room, and after pulling out his card key, he let them into a suite. The bedroom was obviously beyond the open door in the corner. Although the living area smelled and looked like an impersonal hotel room, when he stepped toward her, he dispelled the cold. He pulled her into his arms. With his molten gaze and overpowering physical presence, he cradled her in intense heat.
His eyes held hers as he lowered his head and kissed her for the first time. His lips were gentle yet firm, no hesitancy or insecurity in this man’s touch. Though a stranger, he acted as an anchor during this storm in her life. He enabled her to relax and feel safe, let her grab onto him and accept everything he offered. She kissed him back, giving herself in return.
His hands came to rest on her cheeks, holding her head so he could devour her lips. He nibbled, drawing her lower lip into his mouth and deepening the kiss with broad sweeps of his tongue. With each successive stroke, fire burned stronger in her belly and the urge to touch him grew. She pulled his shirt from the waist-band of his jeans and rested her hands against his heated skin.
He exhaled on a low groan, sliding his hands through her hair and trailing moist, damp kisses down her cheek, lingering against her throat. He was blocking out everything, all the disbelief, the pain, the hurt, and the anguish of today, until she could think of nothing but him. Her nipples puckered and her breasts grew heavy, while between her legs, slick moisture dampened her panties.
She tilted her head back to give him greater access to her throat and he sucked harder on her sensitive flesh, drawing a direct connection to more aroused body parts. A wash of sensation rushed over her and she gripped his waist harder in response.
“Oh yes.” As if from a distance, she heard her voice, raw, hoarse, and full of desire.
“You like?” he asked.
She forced her heavy eyelids open to meet his hot stare. “Rhetorical question, right?”
A seductive grin lifted his lips and he dipped his head once more, this time to soothe the sensitive flesh of her neck with his tongue.
“Mmm.” The man definitely had a way about him, Sloane thought.
“Faith.”
It took her a moment to register that he was talking to her. “Yes?”
“Nothing. I just like the sound of your name.”
She smiled, wishing he were calling her by her real name; wishing his rough voice would call out Sloane as he came inside her. Emboldened by the byplay between them, she raked her fingernails higher, rasping against his chest and hair-roughened skin. “I hope you like that too.”
Before he could reply, a loud knock interrupted them. “I’ve got it.” He strode to the door like the confident male he was, heedless of his untucked shirt or disheveled hair. He opened it a crack, and Sloane realized he was looking out for her privacy.
“I’ll take it,” she heard him say. Then he turned back toward her, pushing a room service tray into the room, and kicked the door closed behind him.
