“Isaac?” Rachel tugged on his hand. “Isn’t this our stop?”
He stopped and looked back at her, at the doorman, a man he recognized from previous trips, who was holding the lobby door open for them.
“Yeah. It is.”
“Serious wool-gathering going on in that big brain of yours.” She tugged his hand again. “Unless you’ve changed your mind, let’s go upstairs.”
That voice of hers should come with a warning. Hell, she should be required to have it licensed.
She smiled at him, the look slow and sultry and entirely suggestive. “I’m tired of walking.”
“What would you rather do?” He had to know, had to hear her say she wanted him. And she came through as if she knew what he needed just then.
Stepping into his personal space, she tilted her chin up until their gazes locked. Then she went up on tiptoe and kissed him softly, barely breaking away so that, when she spoke, her lips moved against his. “I’d rather be in our room, wearing nothing but the little silk number I picked up when you were so determined to go to the shoe department, watching you grow hard as I touch myself while thinking of all the things I want you to do to my body before sunrise.”
“God help you.” He closed the fractional distance between them, hungry for her, devouring her mouth even as she devoured his in return.
A discreet cough had him swimming to the surface of consciousness and looking about. An older couple shot them a disapproving look even as the doorman coughed again, still holding the door open.
Isaac dug out a random Euro from his pocket and passed it to the man, not sure if he was giving him a five or a century note and not caring either way. He all but dragged a laughing Rachel in his wake, through the lobby and into the elevator, where he swiped his key card to the upper floor of the hotel.
“The penthouse,” she said softly. “I’m sure this is common for you, but I’m not sure I could ever get used to living like this.”
He didn’t look at her.
Couldn’t.
Not if he had a hope in hell of making it to the room versus hitting Stop and taking her right then.
Never in his life had he wanted a woman the way he wanted Rachel.
“Have the rules changed at all?” he asked, his voice low and almost ragged.
“No.”
He turned and pulled her into his embrace, kissing her with almost manic fervor, touching her where he knew she liked to be touched, and trying to take her higher even as he drove back the voice in his head that warned him he was treading far too close to the line he’d vowed to never cross.
The line that would make her his.
Forever.
Rachel’s body hummed with anticipation, every nerve charged. Electrified. What awaited her in their suite—suite!—was sheer, unapologetic pleasure. Hers for the taking. She would never be able to repay Isaac for what he had given her in this trip, but she could definitely do her best to create memories with him that would last them both after they said farewell.
His mouth on hers was demanding, making it hard to think about anything but the moment at hand. Hard, but not impossible. Images fluttered through her mind, each one a snapshot of something different that she wanted to do with him. To him. For him. She wanted to give herself over to his keeping, knowing he’d take her so high she’d struggle to breathe, fight for oxygen and free-fall back to earth, where he would catch her...and do it all over again. The relief of having that in a lover was beyond definition. She knew she’d be taken care of, left satisfied, and would sleep in his comforting presence tonight and wake up in the morning to the security he offered.
He broke the kiss and gave her a hard look. “You’re thinking too much.”
“Sorry.”
“Don’t apologize. I’ll just have to redouble my efforts to fog your brain.”
“If you double down, I’m going to die.”
“Can’t have that, now, can we?” He moved his lips to her neck, obliterating any thought but where he might go next. They were in the elevator alone, and it was unlikely they’d be interrupted. The threat was still there, though, and it was a complete turn-on.
Rachel let out a short, breathy laugh. Who knew she had a little exhibitionism lurking in her closet?
“What in God’s name have I done to make you laugh?” he asked, his voice saturated with mock annoyance.