I leaned back against the door, watching her, trying to access the reasoning portion of my brain through the pleasant buzz fog the alcohol had conjured up. But all I could do was watch her, want her more than I’d ever wanted a woman before—even during that month when I wouldn’t let myself sleep with her, when we were first seeing each other.
I’d wanted her then—badly. That month had been a long, slow torture—though in the most pleasant of ways. A voluntary self-blue-balling. But now that I knew how good it could be between us—and when it was good, it was the best I’d ever had—I doubted I had the will or even the desire to stop this, regardless of the amount of alcohol involved.
This one night might not change anything between us. We were still firmly ensconced in our own cleverly designed defenses. She was hiding things from me. Maybe she didn’t even have the feelings she once professed to have. Maybe this was all just physical for her.
At this point, in this condition, I didn’t care. I could kiss a beautiful swimsuit model and only think of Emilia—cock-blocked by my own damn memories and imagination. Now I had the real thing in my hotel suite and I wasn’t going to pass up this opportunity. She wasn’t drunk enough that she was beyond the ability to consent.
I left the door and followed her into the room. “Wow, nice digs,” she said, turning back to me and laughing. “I got my glitter all over you when I kissed you,” she said, moving up to me to swipe her hand across my jaw.
I snaked an arm around her waist to cinch her to me. “How about you?” I said.
“What?”
I took a deep breath and let it go, hoping the answer to the question I was about to ask was what I thought it was. “How long has it been for you?”
“Hmm. Let me think…” she started counting on her fingers. What the fuck? She cast a coy glance at me and burst out laughing. “You should see the look on your face right now.”
My grip on her tightened. “It’s not fucking funny,” I growled.
She smiled wryly. “You know the answer to the question already. The last time I had sex, you were there.”
Better. That was much better. Thank God. The thought of some other man—like Dick, for example—touching her had almost brought the blind rage to the surface. I expelled a long, slow breath and ordered myself to calm down.
I bent to kiss her and she wiggled out of my arms. “I’m going to wash this shit off my face,” she said, squirming out of her ridiculous fairy wings. “Unless you want to be the glittery kilted man.”
“You don’t want me to take the kilt off, then?”
She turned back to me before walking through the bathroom door. “Fuck no.”
And I laughed. The reaction to the kilt was making it well worth the effort—annoying interns or no. I followed Emilia into the bathroom and washed my face in one sink while she slowly washed and wiped her face clean in the other.
“You aren’t gonna puke, are you?” I asked.
She looked at me in the mirror. “No. Are you? It’s not like you drink. Ever.”
I shrugged as she patted her face with a towel. She turned to me and there was an awkward silence between us. Then I lifted my chin at her. “Come here.”
Instead, she threw me a cheeky look and turned, walking out the door into the vanity area. I followed her and she stopped in front of the floor-to-ceiling mirror on the wall. She caught my gaze in the mirror and it wasn’t an innocent or passing glance, either. It was focused, intense.
I slowly came up behind her, still watching her. She swallowed and raised her head to keep my gaze.
My hard-on was getting painful. I hooked my arm around her waist and pressed myself into her backside. “You were asking what was under the kilt…”
She laughed. “You need to wear that more often.”
I bent and kissed her neck. “Maybe I will, depending on the night’s results.”
She shivered in my arms. I’d hit just the right spot. And then she turned, but instead of returning my kiss, she reached out and ripped my shirt open. The buttons went flying. She pulled the thing off my shoulders. “Ohh. So much better,” she said, smoothing her palms across my pecs. Her touch was electric, sending thrills down every nerve. Goddamn I wanted her. And I didn’t want to wait another second.
I pressed against her, pushing her up against the mirror, a hand placed on either side of her head. “I’m not very happy with you,” I said.
“Oh?” she said, a sly smile spreading across her lips. “Certain parts of you seem very happy right now.” She ground her pelvis against mine to emphasize her point.