Page 12 of Parting Shot

“Yes, I can walk,” I grumbled.

He chuckled. “Hurry up, all right?”

The phone went dead, and I realized he had basically ordered me to get my ass in gear. And though I started to ache, I got up anyway to change into some clean clothes.

It was a nice car—some kind of big, fancy black BMW sedan with tinted windows, a shiny paint job that reflected all the city lights, and sparkling chrome. When it rolled up to the curb beside me, I stood there, looking at my reflection for a minute before the window rolled down and I was looking at Aaron Sutter.

The luminous aqua eyes, fringed with long gold lashes, stared out at me from the darkness of the car. I nearly swallowed my tongue.

“Hi,” I said lamely.

The door opened.

“Get in.”

The driver was suddenly there beside me, holding out a hand for my bag. I passed it to him as I saw the trunk open and then got in, closing the door behind me. When I turned to Aaron, he gasped.

“Ahh, it’s not that bad.” I grinned, trying to sound normal and not like my heart was about to pound its way out of my chest.

His brows were furrowed, and his eyes glinted in the low light. “It’s worse, actually,” he assured me, reaching out to put a hand on my cheek.

I leaned into his touch. I couldn’t help it.

“Jesus, I suddenly, completely understand the allure of this.”

“What’re you talking about?”

“The whole comforting-a-policeman thing,” he clarified. “No wonder I never had a chance with Jory. This could become utterly addictive.”

“Sorry?”

He shook his head, then told the driver we were ready to go.

As the car pulled away from the curb, I covered his hand with mine and slid it down my cheek before turning it over to kiss his palm. “I’m really happy to see you,” I said, watching him, memorizing every reaction as I leaned close, unable to resist the temptation of his ear. Gently, I sucked the soft flesh just past my lips and nibbled slowly around the curve of his lobe.

He shivered hard and tilted his head away, just barely. I followed the sway of his body, moving my mouth to the tender skin behind his ear and then trailing down the side of his neck, kissing and sucking. Using the cord of muscle as my guide, I licked and finally bit, not enough to hurt, just enough so he could feel my teeth.

“Duncan.” He jolted, pulling away.

“Shit, I’m⁠—”

“No.” He stopped me. “I just don’t want to attack you right here in the car. It’s sort of tacky, is it not?”

“Is it?”

He scowled. “Let me get you to my suite. You can take a long, hot bath. I’ll order room service, and we can sit out on the terrace and take in the view of Central Park.”

“And?”

“And after I take care of you and make certain you’re well, then I’m all yours.”

He was used to giving orders; I wasn’t used to taking them.

“Screw that,” I growled, cupping his face in my hands and pulling him close for a kiss.

I didn’t even have to press; he opened for me the second our lips sealed together. Sliding inside his wet heat, I rubbed my tongue over his, tasting, reminding him I had done this before. He melted against me, pliant and willing, his moan deep and throaty. He had no idea how much I loved surrender noises, how thick and aching my cock suddenly was, swelling almost painfully inside my jeans.

When he kissed me back, grinding our mouths together, stroking my tongue with his, sucking on my lips, hands fluttering on the side of my neck, I knew he was mine for the taking.