She stood the rest of the way, landing her honey box against my face. Momentarily stunned, the alcohol fogged my reaction time. It didn’t take long for my hands to catch on to her drunken offer.
I shoved up her dress to find she still preferred boy shorts, but in a silky-smooth variety. I tugged them down, pushing apart her legs, then nipping at her inner thighs, and then higher, until I was spreading her and tonguing her and loving the way she’d fisted her fingers in my hair, pulling the shit out of it the deeper I plunged.
“Holy, fuck . . .” she said on the heels of a moan.
I kept going until she tensed and then shuddered.
She stepped free of her panties, and then tore at my waistband, springing me free.
“Shit—” I said. “I don’t have a condom.”
“I don’t care.” Just like she had a million times over in my fucked-up, twisted teen fantasies, she sat on me, swallowing me whole. I closed my eyes and surrendered to the moment, to her, to the promise that this must never happen again.
Once was enough, I told myself.
Now, I would know the absolute wonder of being not just beside her, but inside her. I planted my hands on her ass, squeezing for greater purchase. I had to get deeper. I had to forever freeze this moment to make it last a lifetime.
Her hair fell from its pins, curtaining us as we kissed. I was all at once immersed in her body, her scent, her spell. Pressure raged and roiled inside me until release hit in a crash of light and sensation and sound. She quivered around me and cried out. I wrapped my arms around her, refusing to let go. I’d waited so long for our union that it now seemed like a fragile, fleeting dream. If I moved, I’d wake and she’d be gone.
“Savannah?” Some guy called from down the hall. “Babe, where the hell are you?”
“Shit.” In a mad dash, she climbed off me to pull up her panties and pull down her dress.
I tucked myself in, then zipped and buttoned my fly.
“My hair . . . Shit . . .” Crystal pins glinting in the moonlight pooled on the wood floor. She snatched them up, using the mirror above a display of women’s golf sweaters to twist her mane back to some semblance of its former glory. Finished, she asked, “How do I look?”
Spellbinding—only our spell had been broken. “You’re gorgeous.”
She kissed me quick. “Thanks. Are we good?”
Unable to speak past the nine-iron lodged in my throat, I nodded.
“There you are.” A douchebag, fratty sort rounded the corner.
“Chad. Hi. I’m sorry. Garrett and I were reminiscing and lost track of time.”
“Oh, hey.” Fratty held out his hand for me to shake. “You’re the long-lost brother I’m always hearing about, but never met.”
I shook the guy’s hand, but wasn’t happy about it.
“Chad and I both snagged Boston residencies, only we’ll be at different hospitals.”
“Sucks to be me.” Chad pulled her against him, kissing the crown of her head.
I fucking hated him. “So,” I forced myself to ask, “are you two an item?”
Chad said, “As much you can be in med school, huh, babe?”
“That’s about right.” Her green gaze met mine, and spoke an encyclopedia of regret. You won’t tell, right? We’ll never speak of this again? “Well, this has been fun, but I guess I’d better get back to my own party.”
“Sure.” I wanted to at least give her a hug, but instead, shoved my hands in my pockets. The Patrón on top of my earlier scotch shredded my guts. “You two enjoy what’s left of the night. I’ll have Dad’s driver run me home.”
“Probably a good idea,” Savannah said. “That way you’ll be fresh for tomorrow. Daddy chartered a plane, and we’re all flying to Biloxi to play slots and drink Long Island Iced Teas.”
“Mmm . . . Sounds like a good time.” Her father had died when she’d been young, so she’d adopted mine. I fucking hated it when she called him Daddy. It made me feel like more of a perv than I already was. “Chad, are you joining us?”
“You bet.” He kissed my stepsister’s full, gorgeous, delicious lips. “Now that we’re out of school, I’m hoping to never be apart.”
“Great.” For Savannah, I pasted on a smile. If the douchebag made her happy, I’d support her. It wasn’t as if I had another choice. For all practical purposes, what happened between us had to be erased. It shouldn’t have happened the first time, and it would never happen again.
To ensure there were no awkward aftereffects, I got the hell out of the club and state.
By morning, thanks to my own chartered flight, I was back in California, where I belonged.
For my editor and friend, Sue Grimshaw, who not only lets my
literary freak flag fly, but welcomes it! Thank you for all you do.
Lost
Found
Need
Want
Photo: Brenda Horan
LAURA MARIE ALTOM is the author of more than seventy books in three different genres. Now that her kids are grown, Laura spends her days writing and chasing after a menagerie of pets: a mini long-haired dachshund named Coco, a Yorkie named Chewie, a mutt named Yeti, and Domino—a black-and-white stealth cat she rarely sees. She’s happily married to her college sweetheart (go, Hogs!), and when night falls, Laura steals a few romantic moments for herself with her own hunky cover stud.
www.lauramariealtom.com
Need is a work of fiction. Names, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2015 The Escort by Laura Marie Altom
Copyright © 2020 Need Second Edition by Laura Marie Altom
Excerpt from Stepping Over the Line Copyright © 2015 by Laura Marie Altom
Excerpt from Want Copyright © 2020 by Laura Marie Altom
All rights reserved.
Second Printing Published in the United States by Fulton Court Press.
This book contains an excerpt from the forthcoming book Want by Laura Marie Altom. This excerpt has been set for this edition only and may not reflect the final content of the forthcoming edition.
Need (Bad Boys with Billions Book 3) Page 25
