Tempts Me Read online

  A moan slipped out of her. Another when his fingers dug deep into her flesh and his tongue stroked hers. At the nip of his teeth on the corner of her mouth, Simone cried out.

  Elliott moved back from her, blinking. If he’d let her go, she surely would’ve fallen, but he still held her tight enough to keep her steady. At least for a few seconds, and then his grip loosened.

  “That was lovely,” Simone said, a little dazed. “Do it again.”

  * * *

  The taste of her filled his mouth. The smell of her covered him. The feeling of her tight ass under his hand, the slender curve of her neck inside the cage of his fingers—everything tipped him toward her again.

  Elliott kissed her. The second kiss was harder even than the first. Her tongue stroked his, and when he sucked on it, then bit it gently, her answering gasp flooded him with an arousal so sharp it almost hurt.

  Everything around him turned to glass.

  “Harder,” Simone said into his mouth on the edge of a moan.

  He kissed her harder. Held her tighter. She slid the flat of her hands up his chest to pull him closer to her, tipping her head so he could get at the smoothness of her throat with his teeth.

  Oh, yes.

  Elliott dragged his mouth along her skin, tasting her. He found the curve of her collarbone and nipped it as he rubbed her against him, belly to crotch. Simone Kahan was intoxicating. He couldn’t get enough.

  He was not a man who lost himself, and yet at the sound of her murmured urging, Elliott found himself tumbling into that twisting, turning rabbit hole of desire he’d done his best to avoid for so long. With a groan, he fisted his fingers in the short length of her hair to pull her head back farther. Mouthing her jaw, he found the sweet spot just below it and sank his teeth into her flesh as he slid a hand between them. Up her skirt. Between her legs, he found her heat and slid his hand along smooth, silky panties.

  “Oh, fuck, yes,” she cried when his thumb circled the tight knot of her clit.

  That broke him out of the trance he’d unwittingly found himself in. Elliott, blinking, lifted his mouth from her. He’d left no permanent marks, though her pale skin was pink where he’d nibbled. It was harder to pull his hand from between her thighs. He wanted to slide his fingers in her heat and watch her squirm against him until her pussy clutched and she shuddered into climax. He wanted to do that to her. Make her come. Make her scream his name while she did it, too.

  He shoved her skirt up over her hips to expose her panties to him. Plain white, cut high on the leg, the damp silk molded itself to her pussy. He stroked her again. His fingers dug into the softness of her inner thigh, pinching lightly. When she shook and shivered, moaning, Elliott did it a little harder.

  Her blue eyes, the color of a late summer sky, opened and looked into his. Her pupils had gone wide and dark, her gaze unfocused for a moment, until she blinked. Smiled.

  “More,” Simone whispered.

  Elliott pulled away. His cock was so hard it ached, and she had to have felt it against her, but Simone didn’t even glance downward. She frowned, eyes narrowing without leaving his.

  “What?” she asked.

  “This is … “

  “Delicious,” Simone murmured. “Delightful.”

  She took his hand and pressed it to her body again. Not against her clit, but at the softness of her inner thighs. The marks his fingers had left. She curled his fingers, urging him again to pinch and squeeze her.

  “More,” she said.

  With a low, helpless groan, he bit again into the curve of her shoulder. Simone bucked beneath him, spreading her legs and tilting her hips to press her pussy against his hand. Elliott dragged the bluntness of his nails over her skin.

  It would be too much. Too hard. She would scream, but not in pleasure. She’d twist away from him, look disgusted or worse, betrayed. But then he slipped his fingers inside her, finding her slick and hot and ready for him.

  Elliott kissed her again, tasting blood. Last week he’d fucked a blonde who’d barely moved beneath him. She’d faked an orgasm and lied about it when he tried to really make her come, pushing his mouth away from her clit, saying she’d had enough. The week before that, he’d pulled his lover’s hair a little too hard, not even on purpose, and she’d squealed in such outrage he’d lost all interest in fucking her. But Simone moved beneath him like a dream, responding to his every touch. Every stroke, every pinch.

  Every bite.

  She arched beneath him when he bit again, scraping his teeth along her skin. Too much, he thought, even as she put her hand to the back of his head to hold him close. Too much. He was going to really hurt her if he wasn’t careful.

  Elliott pulled his hand away. Stepped back, out of reach. Breathing hard, he tried to clear his mouth of the taste of her. Her smell clung to him.

  Simone straightened, the lazy, lustful glint in her eyes becoming something else. “What’s the matter?”

  Elliott reached to touch one fading mark on her throat. She didn’t wince, didn’t flinch. If anything, she leaned into the touch like a cat butting his hand for a caress.

  Everything inside him went first hot. Then cold. He pulled away again, shaking his head.

  “I’ve got to leave.”

  “Elliott…”

  Without waiting for an answer, he backed toward her front door. She didn’t follow him, and when the door had closed behind him, he let out the breath he’d been holding. In the elevator, Elliott straightened his tie. Smoothed his hair. By the time it opened to the lobby, he’d composed himself, but it took him the entire cab ride home before he could stop his hands from wanting to make fists.

  Inside his own apartment, he poured himself a glass of whiskey, neat, though it was nearly one in the morning and too late for drinking. He sipped at it, staring out the window into the city lights. He closed his eyes, thinking of her silky hair. The sweetness of her pussy, and how she’d gasped a moan when he’d pinched her.

  His cock thickened again at the memory, and he downed the rest of the whiskey before stalking to the bedroom, where he stripped out of his suit and hung it up. In only his boxer briefs, erection straining the material, he stroked himself through the fabric for a moment before letting out a muttered curse.

  “More,” she’d said, and he’d wanted to give her more.

  He’d wanted to pinch her until she bruised. Bend her over the back of the chair, lift her skirt and leave the marks of his hands on her ass. Thinking of it now, his cock throbbed.

  “More,” Simone had said, but she’d had no idea what that meant for a man like him.

  No woman ever had.

  * * *

  She’d watched him walk out her door with the stiff-legged gait of a man who’d been hit someplace tender, but she hadn’t gone after him. Simone had never been a run-after-the-guy sort of girl, not for a man she’d been completely and desperately in love with, and certainly not for one she barely knew. Still, with her heart still pounding and her neck and thighs still tingling from Elliott’s attentions, she had thought about at least calling his name to see if he’d look back.

  She was glad now that she hadn’t. The marks had faded, but the memory of his kiss hadn’t. Nor had the memory of his twisting, pinching fingers. He’d barely hurt her. There’d been the potential there for so much more, but not, she decided, from a man who’d looked at her as though she’d grown another head when she asked him for it.

  It didn’t stop her from watching him, of course. He was too delicious to give up, and besides, Simone had long ago learned she was a voyeur. It was harder to do it during the day because of the tint on the windows and the glare from the sun that fell for most of the working hours directly on his part of the building. But come four o’clock or so, when the shadows fell and then night … yeah. She still watched him.

  For two weeks, she barely caught sight of him, even the few nights she’d worked late when she really didn’t have to. She’d glimpsed him once in the lobby, but he hadn’t even g