Page 238 of Terms of Exposure
Christ.I couldn't think. Couldn't breathe. Every synapse in my brain had migrated south, leaving nothing but the pressure of her palm and the desperate need to get us home before I did something inadvisable on a public street.
"Two more blocks," I managed.
She squeezed again. "Better hurry."
I whipped into the parking garage.
The car barely stopped before I was moving.
I didn't remember cutting the engine.
Or opening her door.
One second she was laughing in the passenger seat. The next she was in my arms—legs dangling, hands catching my shoulders, a surprised gasp escaping her lips.
"Damien!"
"I don't want you running away from me, Sinclair."
She settled against my chest, fingers curling into the fabric of my shirt.
"And if I wanted to run?"
I tightened my grip, carrying her toward the elevator. "Then I'd catch you."
The elevator doors slid shut, and we began our glacial ascent.
"This elevator has never been slower," Emma complained, squirming in my arms.
I tightened my grip. "Patience."
"You don't get to say that after driving ninety through Midtown."
I dipped my head, teeth catching the soft curve of her ear.
She gasped, digging her fingers into my shoulder.
"Damien—"
"Shh." I traced the shell of her ear with my tongue. "My turn."
She wiggled again, trying to create friction, trying to take back control.
I held her tighter, one hand sliding up her thigh, keeping her pinned against me.
"You tortured me for six blocks," I murmured against her neck, lips dragging down to her pulse point. "I think I'm owed a little payback."
"This isn't—" A sound escaped her as I sucked gently at the spot below her jaw. "This isn't fair."
"No," I agreed, smiling against her skin. "It isn't."
The elevator chimed.
I didn't wait for the doors to open fully—just turned sideways and strode through, Emma bouncing in my arms with a surprised laugh.
Bedroom. Bedroom. Bedroom.
The thought like a metronome pulsing in my cock.
