8

I reached around and grazed the small of her back. “Do you want to know what I think of you?”

“I can feel it. When you were approaching us at the bar, a heat moved through my body, and when you stood there with my friends, it happened again. And now, I can feel it once more. There’s nothing simple or secretive about your stare, Mr. Boston. I don’t know if just any girl could feel it, but I certainly can.”

I gazed at her glossy lips—their roundness, fullness—and pulled away a piece of hair stuck to them.

“Am I right when I say you can’t stop thinking about devouring me?”

A sound came out of me that was half growl, half chuckle. “Yes.”

“Well, you have me here. What are you going to do with me?”

I took a step back, shaking my head. “I’m going to spend as much time as I can admiring you because one, I can’t believe you’re finally in my presence, and two, you look even more incredible than you did in that photo—something I didn’t think was possible.” When I stepped toward her again, my hand dived into her hair, holding it, squeezing the locks into my palm. That was when my dick started to fucking throb. “And sexy. Love, you’re so goddamn sexy.”

“I’m blushing. The lace is just hiding it.”

My hand moved to her face, palming her cheek, tilting it up toward me. “You know, since we Hooked, there’s something that’s been eating at me.”

“Yeah?”

“I think I mentioned—or maybe I didn’t—that it’s almost statistically impossible to match at one hundred percent.” Was that a conversation we’d had through text or one that had taken place only in my head? I couldn’t remember—she was making everything fuzzy and impossible to recall. “That means we’re perfectly compatible, and I’d wondered what that would feel like when I finally met you.”

Her hand landed on my chest, dropping as low as the center of my abs. “How does it feel?”

“It’s hard to describe.”

I saw the whiteness of her teeth, the nipping of her bottom lip. “How about I take a stab at it?” She paused. “There’s this tingling in your chest that’s moving low, low, low, but it doesn’t disappear. It restarts like a constant loop. And this flutter, like the feathers from the ceiling are tickling every inch of your skin.” Her chest rose and fell, visible only because the top of her dress was so fitted. “And there’s this constant urge to touch me.”

“Yes.” I nodded. “All of that. Every bit.”

“Mr. Boston, do you know what I find interesting?”

Her voice was like this mesmerizing song, one I could listen to forever. “Tell me.”

“This app was created for hook-ups, one-night stands, where you get what you want and move on. So, technically, after tonight, there’s a chance I’ll never see you again. Never talk to you again. We’ll share something so wild and passionate . . . and then be done.”

Hearing her define a night of sex, using wild and passionate, was so fucking hot.

And before Love, that was all I had wanted.

One night.

But the need to see her again, touch her again, before I even had her, was overwhelming.

As those thoughts resonated, they shocked my system.

I’d developed Hooked for the opposite reason—the reason Love had just described. Why was I suddenly making this so complicated?

Why was I craving more?

She was the answer to all those questions.

The feeling in my body, the tightening in my chest. Two things that would have happened even if we hadn’t matched so high.

“Love, there are no rules. We can do anything we want, even if that means seeing each other after tonight.”

She drained what was left in her glass. “I like that.” She glanced at the watch on her wrist. “But before we decide anything, let’s see how good we are together. Mr. Boston, you have exactly fifteen minutes. What are you going to do with me?”

“Fifteen minutes? Now that’s not a lot of time.”

“Time, unfortunately, just isn’t something I have much of tonight.”

Why was I disappointed with that answer?

Why did it hit so hard when I realized that once those minutes passed, she would be gone? Out of my hands. When, in my mind, I’d planned to spend the whole night with her, and that was a thought I liked much more.

Or maybe it was just the thought that I’d be able to have sex all night long. That it had nothing to do with her at all.

Shit, I didn’t know.

I was so far outside my usual territory, everything felt jumbled and confusing.

“But fifteen minutes . . .” I laughed. “That’s barely even enough to get me started.”

“It’s something.” She shifted her hair from one shoulder to the other. “And it’s all you’re getting, so how are you going to spend those minutes? How will you make me never forget you? Or, I guess in this case, want to reach out to you again?”

My hands clutched the air, closing into fists, then releasing. “Can I use my mouth?”

“You can use anything you want.” She traced a finger down my chest.

“Anything?”

She nodded.

“And I can take you anywhere?”

She looked at her watch again. “You’re down to fourteen minutes. Ticktock.”

I had a room upstairs in the hotel, but it would take a few minutes to get us to the elevator and onto the high floor, and that was time I didn’t want to waste.

But fourteen minutes? Hell, I’d planned to spend at least that and more just going down on her.

I took the glass out of her hand and placed it, along with mine, on a nearby table, and said, “The first thing I’m doing is getting you out of here.”

I led her out of the ballroom and into a stairwell.

I wouldn’t have known this spot even existed had I not been here earlier, when the decorator and her staff were setting up the ballroom. This was the entrance they had used to bring everything in from the parking lot. When I’d passed through several hours ago, I’d noticed the small alcove under the staircase.