Page 91 of Trouble from Abroad
“They weren’t jeal—” He shuts me up with a kiss. I’m not one to run from an argument, but I’m not about to choose a squabble over this man’s mouth.
“I don’t know what they were, Mia. I don’t care.” He kisses me again, softer this time. “I was paying attention to what matters.”
Fuck me sideways. He went straight for the jugular with that one, didn’t he?
It’s my turn to silence him. I curl my fingers into the ends of his hair, holding him in place, and stare. What I find staring back at me isn’t a player. There’s no smug grin. No rehearsed line queued up. There’s only yearning. Bare and wild and burning for me.
It unleashes a braver, wilder Mia. One I’m not so familiar with, but want to become. Not just in front of him, but in front of the whole world. One with fewer intrusive thoughts, not consumed by worries about what comes next.
His hands roam my back and slide to my waist. His fingers bunch the hem of my top, digging into my skin. But that’s as far as he goes.
He’s holding back. Truth is, I’m struggling just as hard, but watching him squirm? That does something to me. So, braver Mia steps in.
I trace his upper lip with my tongue, slow, taunting, and he parts for me. “I should get a silk tie for this mouth,” Ibreathe into him, trying the words on for size. To my surprise, they fit perfectly.
I lick his bottom lip next, even slower now, and feel him twitch against me, right where we’re still joined.
“Or maybe a gag.”
The words taste obscene on my tongue. I like it far too much.
His groan is low, velvet-wrapped in wickedness.
“Going to play shy, Miss Thorne? Pretend you don’t know how badly I want you? How tightly you’ve got me wound up?”
He leans in, heat curling through every word.
“Act innocent all you want. You’re not fooling me. You know damn well I applied for this…jobbecause I’ll do anything you want. I begged for the chance. But today, baby… is your turn to do the begging.”
Note to self: Buy the damn gag.
Backup plan: challenge Preston to make you come just from talking filth in your ear.
I’m starting to think that’s actually possible.
The loudbingannouncing we’ve arrived at our floor prevents me from testing that theory now.
But hey, we’ve got all day.
He pulls me out of the elevator, nearly dislocating my shoulder as he power-walks toward our room. He flings the door open, and I drift to the floor-to-ceiling windows, admiring the place. The photos didn’t do it justice.
I stare out, stunned. The view is ridiculous.
Behind me, I catch Pres hanging the Do Not Disturb sign, then locking the door with a quiet finality that sends ashiver down my spine.
He crosses the room in a flash. One arm slides around my waist, the other slips beneath my breasts and pulls me back into him. It’s not just heat. It’s gravity.
I close my eyes and melt into him. If we stopped here—no kiss, no bed, no anything—it would still be enough to make my day. Just this hug. Just this man.
“Look at the?—”
“I’m looking at what’s important,” he says again.
I glance back, and there he is, staring at me. Probably has been the whole time. Maybe seeing all of me.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
preston
