Page 9 of Forged

Then, he leans back, eye raking down to my breasts and back up to my mouth. “Right now,” he says quietly, “I want to get you alone. See what’s under this steely exterior, see what makes you break.”

My pulseslams. I force myself not to look away. “You’re very confident.”

“Accurate, but I know I’m right.” Lars grins, wiping his thumb across his bottom lip. “You’ve been watching me since I sat down at that table.”

I smirk. “Maybe I was just sizing up the competition.”

“You were imagining what my hands would feel like.”

My breath stutters. Because he’s right again—and he knows it.

He leans toward me. “Tell me I’m wrong. Tell me you weren’t thinking about my fingers somewhere far more fun than that table.”

I shrug, cool as I can manage and point to the table. “Eat your tacos, Lars.”

His smile is wicked. “So that’s a no, then? Funny, because every time I touched my chips, or slid my cards forward, your pretty little eyes went straight to my hands.”

I take another bite, holding his gaze. Fuck, I bet he knows what to do with those hands, too. “Finish your food. Then we’ll see if I want to answer that question.”

When he smiles and his eyes promise every filthy thing I’ve been trying not to think about since he first looked at me across the poker table.

After we finish,he offers to drive me to my hotel. I almost decline, remembering that I don’t know this man from David. But shortly after, I’m seated in his black BMW, surrounded by the smell of expensive leather and his cologne.

The Argent Hotel rises ahead of us in neon and chrome edges. He valets his car and walks me inside. The lobby glows with that curated glow hotels love—sleek floors, an abstract chandelier dripping like molten glass from the ceiling. Low lounge music thrums under the hum of conversation coming from the lobby bar.

I expect him to leave when we reach the elevators—a polite goodnight, a smile, something that lets us leave this tension simmering instead of letting it boil over.

The elevator arrives with a soft ding,and I step inside, turning to face him. He stays standing at the threshold, his hand holding the doors open.

For a moment, he looks at me like he’s deciding if this is a line he should cross.

So, I give him the permission he’s waiting for.

“Are you coming up?”

He gives me the sexiest, most troublesome grin I’ve ever seen on a man. The kind of grin that promises ruin. The kind that says he’s already planning how to wreck me.

He steps in, and the doors slide shut with a whisper that feels obscene. The air changes instantly, becoming thick and electric. I hit the button for my floor, and the second I take one small step back, he moves.

His hand catches my waist, and he turns me, my back gently hitting the mirrored wall of the elevator. His body lines up with mine, heat and muscle crowding me. His other hand slides up, fingers brushing my neck.

He doesn’t speak because he knows he doesn’t have to. His stare pins me in place, a silent warning that whatever happens next won’t be polite. His fingers curl against my skin, a promise to take, to claim. My throat goes tight and I can feel the heat of his breath before his mouth is even on mine.

And then it breaks.

His lips crush against mine—hungry, savage, all that leashed need snapping free in a single, devastating kiss. I gasp, and he’s right there, using it, deepening, dragging me closer until there’s no space left to breathe. His teeth catch my bottom lip, and the sound I make is embarrassingly desperate.

The elevator climbs as his hands grip my hips tighter, his mouth moving to my throat, each kiss sending heat straight through every inch of my skin. He murmurs against my pulse, voice rough and dark, “You have no idea what you started tonight.”

I tilt my head. “Then show me.”

He growls—a low, wrecking sound that vibrates against my skin. And when the elevator doors open on my floor, neither of us is breathing steadily. He grabs my hand, fingers tangling with mine, pulling me into the hallway.

“What’s your room number?”

“Thirty-four twelve,”she answers, chest heaving.

I’ve barely caught my own breath as I lead her out of the elevator. She kisses like a predator, like she’s hungry for it and I’m her prey. This woman is going to make me lose control. Her skill, her charm, and fuck, when my hips pressed to hers and I felt her holstered gun press against me, I almost came in my fucking pants. My dick is protesting in my jeans and all I can think about is sinking balls deep into her.