6

“YOU LIVE HERE? It’s huge.”

Ty pulled into the long driveway, bringing the car to a halt in front of the sprawling stone home. “Temporarily,” he said. “And it’s a friend’s. He travels a lot. Thought it would be a good idea to have someone else share the mortgage.”

He came around to open her door, then took her arm as they walked up the path. She didn’t pull away, but he neither did she look at him the way she’d looked at him the night before. In fact, he had the distinct impression that she was afraid to look at him, as if she’d give away something she didn’t want revealed.

He wanted to push her on it and make her tell him what was bothering her, but he knew he didn’t have the right. There was no relationship between them. No commitment. But if she was having regrets about last night, he damn sure hoped she got over it. For his part, he had no regrets at all. For the first time in a long time, in fact, he wanted to stay with the woman he’d slept with. And not just in bed. Already he was cursing the damn party, because he wanted to take her out to breakfast, show her the funky local places he’d found.

He just plain wanted to spend time with her, and that was not a feeling that tended to be high up there on Ty Coleman’s list of emotional states. He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d been in a serious relationship. Lately, women had been dates. Distractions. Booty-call buddies.

He didn’t fully understand why, but there was no denying that Claire was more than that. Which was why her sudden slide into pensiveness made him so uncomfortable.

“I won’t take long,” he said, leading her into the house, only to find it a hell of a lot more hectic than he’d left it.

He’d forgotten about football, of course, and now at least two dozen guys were sprawled out in the massive living room, screaming at the television set.

Claire turned to him, her amused expression lightening his own mood a thousand-fold. “All of them live here?”

“Only a small percentage,” Ty said.

“Ty!” one of the guys yelled. “These douchebags are playing for shit! You outta just buy the team. Fire that lousy-ass coach.”

“Yeah, buy the team!”

“Hell, just buy more beer!”

After that, he couldn’t hear as his former frat brothers, current roommates, and a few assorted strangers all started shouting things at once. From the far side of the room, Matt stood up and motioned to the kitchen. Ty pressed his hand to Claire’s back and steered them that direction.

“I’m Matt,” Ty’s friend and current landlord said, holding out his hand for Claire. “Since I don’t know you, I’m guessing you came with Ty and not for football.”

“You guessed right.” To her credit, she didn’t seem overwhelmed, either by the crowd in the other room or by Matt, who fully qualified as a bear of a man, his huge paw managing to completely engulf her hand as he shook it.

“We’re late,” Ty said. “Just came in to get fresh clothes.”

“Right. I’ll follow you up.” He turned to Claire. “I need to talk to my boy. Would you mind—”

“No, of course not,” she said, then pulled out a chair at the table. “I’m happy to wait.”

“Help yourself to anything in the fridge, if there’s anything left. If it’s not nailed down around here, it gets eaten pretty quickly.”

Ty mouthed a quick, sorry, to which she replied with a definitive, don’t worry about it, and then he followed Matt out of the room.

“What’s up?” he asked, when they reached the room that Ty had been renting for the last six months. He started stripping down, happy to get into some clean clothes.

“Does she realize who you are?”

He turned, surprised. “Excuse me?”

“You need to check your phone more often, dude. Give it here.” Ty passed Matt his phone, then slid on a clean shirt while Matt tapped at the touch-screen. “Check it out.”

Ty took the phone and looked at the crystal clear screen. A screen showing, up close and personal, him and Claire tight in a clench. Exactly what he’d feared, and even faster than he’d expected.

“That explains it then,” he said.

“What?”

“After I got out of the shower this morning. A chill in the air. She checked her messages. How much do you want to bet she’s gotten a hundred e-mails with this picture.”

“She’s an attorney, Ty. Works for a judge.”

“You know her?” Matt worked at one of the largest law firms in the city.

“Not personally, but I’ve heard of her. She’s active in the Bar, attends a lot of fund-raisers. Just accepted a job at Thatcher and Dain in their appellate section, and that’s a hard nut to crack, let me tell you.”

“And her dad’s a senator,” Ty said. “Thanks for showing me.”

“Dallas may be the big city, bro, but this town still turns on gossip. It may be more polite in the South than it is in California, but it cuts just as deep.”

Ty ran his fingers through his hair, silently cursing.

“She one of your usuals, or one you want to hang on to for a while?”

Ty buttoned his slacks as he looked toward the door, imagining Claire at the kitchen table, scrolling through e-mails asking her who the devil she’d gotten mixed up with.

For a moment, Ty considered denying how he felt, but this was Matt, his best friend. The guy who’d had his back when Ty had been dumb enough to put firecrackers in Old Lady Beckett’s mailbox, and had walked the walk of shame with him when guilt had settled in his gut and he’d gone to confess his crime.

They knew each other’s secrets, and although Ty didn’t share everything with his friends, with Matt, he shared a lot. “I like her, Matt. I really like her.”

His friend’s shoulders sagged, ever so slightly. “Okay, then. I’ll keep a good thought for you, guy. But I wouldn’t be surprised if for the first time in a long time, you’re the one standing still, and the girl’s the one doing the walking away.”

“I’M SO SORRY ABOUT the picture,” Ty said when they were back in the car and heading north on the tollroad.

“You saw?”

“Matt showed me.” He sighed, gripping the steering wheel tighter. “I expect that kind of thing when I’m in L.A., but I didn’t think to warn you. I’m sorry about that.”

“It’s okay,” she smiled, and right then he really believed that it was okay, and his heart leaped a little, knowing that he hadn’t inadvertently ruined everything for her—or kicked her out of his life.

“It’s not your fault,” she added.

He nodded in agreement, though he supposed to be technical, he could argue that point. After all, he’d cultivated the lifestyle. He’d courted the tabloids and the paparazzi. He’d done everything he could to get his name out there as much as possible and as often as possible.

He’d wouldn’t do it any differently now, because in the market he worked in, that was what it took to build interest. But that didn’t change the basic fact that he retained some level of responsibility for Claire ending up on the Internet in a clench.

“It was just one kiss,” she said, philosophically. “It’s not as if they got pictures of anything else.” He glanced sideways and noted her small frown. “Did they?”

“I checked. Nothing. I think we’re clear.”

“Well, there you go. New Year’s Eve. One kiss. It’s silly.”

She reached over and stroked his hand, and the simple touch caused a wave of pleasure to flow through him. Intensely sensual, but also, well, nice. A sensation he now associated only with Claire.

“I’ve sorry if I seemed moody earlier,” she said. “This is new territory for me.”

“And you don’t like it.”

The corner of her mouth curved up in a wry grin. “Not much. No.”

And that, he thought, was something else that set her apart from other girls. Instead of chasing celebrity, Claire was content to calmly step out of its raging path.

“If I’m going to be noticed,” she said, “I want it to be for something other than the quality of my kiss or the gorgeousness of the man I’m kissing.”

“I’m not sure if that’s a compliment, but I’ll take it as one.”

“It is,” she said, her voice lightened by her smile. “And I’m fine now. Really.”

SHE MEANT IT, too, but even if she hadn’t, she probably would have said so anyway, especially now that she saw how concerned he’d been that she’d bolt and run. And, yeah, she’d considered bolting and running. But it was one picture. One silly little New Year’s Eve picture that made the rounds among her friends and would soon be forgotten.

After all, it wasn’t as if she was a celebrity. No news story there.

And it wasn’t as if she’d be kissing Ty in public everyday, though private was a different matter altogether. And, yes, she hoped to be full up on private kisses, and other indoor sports, as well.

Honestly, she’d completely overreacted, and so had Alyssa. Time for them both to chill.

He turned down the Starr Resort’s private driveway, then navigated over the grounds. The property was part Resort, and part working ranch, with small cabins dotted over the property that people could rent out for the weekend, as well as a five-star hotel.

Today, their destination was the hotel, and Ty took them down into the underground parking labyrinth. They took the elevator up to the lobby level, Claire’s body thrumming simply from the way Ty was holding her hand, his thumb idly grazing her skin. When the doors opened, she gasped, and this time it had nothing to do with the man beside her, but instead by the magnificence of the room.

She’d been to a lot of fancy hotels and conference halls, but this one was by far the most impressive. A giant Christmas tree dominated the room, the far side of which was made entirely of windows that opened out onto the fabulous patio with stone tables, water falls and a view of the cows wandering in the field behind.

The room itself was cavernous, but nothing seemed to get lost, and as Claire stood taking it all in, pondering the possibility of a similarly distressed wood floor for her living room, a bellman appeared beside them to ask if they needed help.

“Power Publicity,” Ty said, and they were immediately shown the way to a spectacular ballroom in which the PR firm had clearly invested approximately the gross national product of a small country. Two of the four walls were lined with food stations, the other two with bars. In case you didn’t want to wait, waiters circulated with trays of popular drinks and appetizers. And dotted throughout the room were six blackjack stations. Each guest, they were told by a helpful young woman wearing a Power Publicity pin announcing her name as Anna, received five hundred “dollars” in chips. At the end of the night, they could cash in their winnings for a various bits of swag donated by clients of Power, or they could donate the chips themselves, and Power would make an equivalent donation to a local charity.

It was, thought Claire, a brilliant setup, and since she was currently working with a charitable committee, she made a quick note to investigate acquiring chips and blackjack tables.

“Roulette’s good, too,” Ty said, peering at the note. “But what do you want them for?”

“I’m on the fund-raising committee for a local literacy organization. Our big event is coming up, so…” She caught his expression. “What?”

“Nothing. Just…literacy. It’s a good cause. I’m impressed.”

She lifted a brow. “Thanks. It’s important to me. Are you sure you’re okay?”

He nodded toward the far side of the room. “There’s Joe and Bonita. Shall we go take care of the social niceties?”

“And do a little business,” she said. “Didn’t you want to talk to him about PR?”

“Social niceties are the heart of business,” he said, taking her arm. “I learned that one a long time ago.”

“You came!” Bonita said, as they approached. “I’m so glad. Now, you two be sure to get a drink, and don’t you even hesitate to eat. We have so much food, I swear, we should invite the Dallas Cowboys.”

“Next year,” Joe said. “I’m working on landing that account.”

Bonita leaned over and kissed his temple, and Claire thought that he flinched, just a little. “I’m going to go circulate. I know Daddy’s around here somewhere. You take care of our guests,” she said to Joe, pointing at Claire and Ty.

“I’ve got it under control,” he said. He nodded toward her. “Claire. You look wonderful. Nice picture, too.” He caught Ty’s eye. “For you, I think you hit the right note. But, Claire, darling, considering your profession, you should try to avoid raising your EQ.”

“EQ?”

“Your entertainment quotient. Publicity—that’s okay. So long as it’s the right kind. If you’re going to present yourself to the public, you have to be sure it’s the right image you’re putting forward.”

“Yes, well, had I been the one putting that image forward, I’m sure I would have considered those factors.” She sounded snippy to her own ears, but she’d almost managed to put the picture out of her mind, and wasn’t thrilled to have it brought back up to the forefront. “I’m going to leave you two to talk,” she said, figuring an exit was her best plan of attack at the moment. “I think I saw a few people I know over by the bar.”

She took a step away, and was stopped by a single word from Ty. “Claire.” Her name seemed to reverberate through her, his voice full of decadent promises. She turned back to him, her brow rising in question. “Soon,” he said, and all she could do was swallow and try not to let her head fill with images of exactly what “soon” would entail.

Gathering herself, she headed back into the throng. She’d seen at least a dozen familiar faces when they’d arrived, and now she intended to circulate, network and make great contacts. For the most part, her plan went pretty well. In less than twenty minutes, she’d chatted with two retired judges now in private practice, one of whom also knew and respected Judge Monroe. But when it became apparent that he intended to dominate her time, she made an excuse, then headed over to one of the buffets to check out the selection of truly tempting desserts and appetizers.

A hand grazed her back, the touch already so familiar she didn’t even have to turn around. “Hungry?”

“Starved,” he said, though from his tone, she really didn’t think he was talking about food.

She laughed. “I’d feed you, but I don’t want to end up in the papers.” She pressed her plate into his hand. “Here. Help yourself.”

“It’s a sad lot when all a woman will give me is her plate of food.”

“Yes, I can see how you’ve had it rough lately.”

“I could go for a little bit rough,” he said, taking a step closer so that the air between them sizzled. “You?”

“Ty…” She shifted, her body tingling, images she really didn’t need to have in her head right then filling her mind. Him ripping off her panties. Slamming her back against a wall. Pounding inside of her.

“You’re blushing.”

“Stop it…”

He lowered his voice, pitching it only for her. “You’re thinking about later. What I’ll do to you. What we’ll do together.”

“No, I—”

“Liar.”

His tease rolled over her, as light as butterfly wings. “All right. I am.”

“Me, too. Want me to tell you what we’re going to do?”

Say no. Tell him to circulate. Get yourself together. “Yes.”

“Parchesi.”

“Par—what?” She looked into his eyes, certain he was joking, but there was nothing but heat there. Heat, and a, yeah, tiny spark of amusement.

“Fabulous game,” he said, taking a step toward her. “Very engaging.”

She swallowed. “Is that a fact?”

“Of course, if you don’t like Parchesi…”

“I don’t know how to play,” she said, as a thin man scooted in toward the buffet and started piling shrimp on a plate. She shifted to give him more room, the motion taking her closer to Ty. She breathed him in, like soap and mint. She wanted to touch him, but she held back, the simple act of denial making her more needy. “Will you teach me?”

“I think we can arrange a few lessons,” he said, ignoring the man with the shrimp, his eyes only on her. “Are you a fast learner?”

“Terribly slow,” she said, and saw the corner of his mouth twitch with a suppressed smile. “You may have to show me over and over and over again before I figure it out.”

“Don’t worry,” he said. “I can be patient. Very patient.”

“I’m so glad to hear it.”

“Maybe we can—”

“Claire?” The male voice came from behind, and she turned to find herself looking into the face of one of her law-school study buddies, Hunter.

“Look at you!” she cried, giving him a quick hug, then introducing him to Ty. “How are you? What are you up to these days?”

Ty, who apparently didn’t care for attorney banter, stayed only long enough to be polite, then told her they’d finish discussing the game later before off into the crowd again.

“Game?”

“Football.”

“Aren’t you the one who hated football?”

“It’s not up there on my top ten,” she said, then steered the conversation back to the much more safe topic of him. “Last I heard you were working in Washington.”

“Did that. Moved back here to spearhead a first amendment practice area. I hear you’re leaving the cushy government world for the hard-edged practice of appellate law soon.”

She laughed. “Rumors travel fast in this town.”

She thought his eyes shifted toward Ty, but she couldn’t be sure. “Yes,” he said. “They do. Anyway, when I saw you, I wanted to touch base. I’m always interested in working with the appellate team at the beginning of a case. Makes for a cleaner record that way.”

“Maybe we should arrange a meeting after I’m settled,” she said, and as they were exchanging business cards Mellie Jo Patterson came up beside them and gave Hunter a kiss. “Look at you two,” she said. “My fiancé and my committee co-chair already old friends.”

“We’ve been friends for a while,” Claire said. “Hunt and I went to law school together.”

“No way. Small world.”

“And getting smaller,” Hunt said. “Claire’s the one you’re chairing the literacy fund-raiser with?” he asked MJ.

“Guilty,” Claire said.

He pressed a kiss to MJ’s temple. “In that case, I’ll let you two talk.” He caught Claire’s eye. “Make sure she invites you over for dinner sometime. It would be nice to catch up. And to discuss the law with someone who knows what a penumbra is.”

MJ rolled her eyes. “I thought it was a brand of stoneware,” she said. “Only once. And I’ll never live it down. At any rate, I wanted to talk to you about your new guy.”

A little burst of dread shot through Claire. “Excuse me?”

“That’s him, right?” she asked, pointing across the room to where Ty was standing with a man talking animatedly with his hands. “I saw the thing going around on Twitter—”

“Gee. Great.”

“—and I think this could be a real opportunity.”

Claire waited, because so far she wasn’t seeing the opportunity for anything more than annoyance.

“A celebrity auction!” MJ said, clapping her hands with so much enthusiasm Claire was surprised heads weren’t turning in the room.

“I’m not really sure he’s—”

“Not him, silly,” MJ said. “I thought you could ask him to donate a friend of his.” Her lips pursed together in thought. “Actually, though, we could do Win a date with Ty—”

“I’ll talk to him,” Claire said, because as much as the thought of auctioning Ty off to some other woman curled up her insides, she couldn’t deny that it was a brilliant suggestion on MJ’s part. And with Ty’s involvement, they could expand their guest list to include celebrities with even the remotest Hollywood connections. With that kind of starpower, they could probably bring in triple the donations over last year. And anything that could accomplish that was definitely worthwhile.

She caught a glimpse of Bonita moving swiftly through the room toward the patio doors, her head down, ensuring she made eye contact with nobody. She looked so distressed, that Claire’s heart twisted a little. “I’ll ask him and be in touch,” Claire said to MJ. “But listen, will you excuse me? I need to go see about something.”

She wove through the crowd, then slipped out of the room the same way Bonita had. She found the other woman sitting under a gazebo, blowing her nose on a tissue. She looked up as Claire approached, her eyes red and swollen.

“Bonita? What’s wrong?”

“Joe,” Bonita said, practically spitting the word. “I saw him. I freaking saw him.”

“Saw him doing what?” Claire asked, warning bells flashing bright in her mind.

“With her. His hand was up her skirt and he was practically sucking her face off. Oh, God, oh, God.” She looked up at Claire with puffy, damp eyes. “Men are pigs.”

Claire felt ice cold. “You’re sure? You couldn’t be mistaken?”

Bonita dug her smartphone out of her purse, punched a button and passed it to Claire. “Least I was thinking clear, huh? I wanted evidence in case he tried to deny being a filthy, cheating pig.” She snuffled. “Did he ever do that to you? Cheat?”

“I—No. Not that I know of, anyway.”

“Well, that’s the real trick, isn’t it. I wouldn’t have even found out if I hadn’t stumbled into the wrong room, looking for the bathroom. They were in a storage closet! I mean, how tacky is that? Bastard.”

“How long have you two been dating?”

Bonita nibbled on her thumb, thinking. “Two months. Closer to three, actually.”

Claire swallowed. She didn’t know if Joe had cheated on her, but she knew now that he’d tried to cheat on Bonita with her. She weighed the benefit of telling the girl and decided it would only hurt her more. “What are you going to do?”

“Dump his ass, what do you think? Like I’d stay with a womanizing scum.” She drew in a long, slow breath. “But it still hurts, you know?”

“I know.” She hooked an arm around the other woman’s shoulder. “Do you think you can go back inside? Do you want me to get anything for you?”

“Got a giant club I can whack the bastard in the face with?”

“Probably best to lay off the whacking until you cool down.”

“Yeah,” Bonita said, standing up and smoothing her skirt. “You’re right.” She pointed around the side of the building. “I’m going to go in that way and clean myself up.”

“Do you want me to come with you?”

She shook her head. “You’re supersweet, but I’ll be okay.” She started to walk away, then stopped and looked back. “And, Claire? Thanks.”

They parted, and Claire headed back into the party, her mind filled with thoughts of Joe and cheating and womanizing men-pigs. It made for quite a messy rush of noise in her mind, which probably explained how she almost walked straight into Malcolm Thatcher, her new boss-to-be.

“Oh! Mr. Thatcher. So good to see you here.”

“Claire, what a lovely surprise. And fortuitous. I was meaning to call you. We’re all so very excited that you’re joining the firm soon, but in the meantime, I was wondering if I could steal an hour or so of your time one day—if the Judge doesn’t mind—to have you come into the office.”

“Of course,” she said, trying not to let her confusion show. “I’d be happy to. Can I ask why?”

He waved away the question as if it were nothing, but Claire had the distinct impression he was being purposefully vague. “Nothing major. Just office policy. Housekeeping. That kind of thing.”

“Sure. I’ll talk to Judge Monroe and let you know what day would be the most convenient.”

“Perfect,” he said. “Now you go enjoy the party. Jake Powers certainly knows how to throw them.”

He certainly did. The party was jam-packed with so many people that she wanted to meet, either professionally or to discuss the charity auction, that by the time she’d made it across the room to Ty, she’d all but forgotten the odd conversation with Malcolm Thatcher.

He was talking to a guy who held himself so straight he seemed prissy, and from Ty’s overly polite expression, Claire had the distinct impression that the man had been droning on and on endlessly about his company’s commercial alarm systems.

Considering the snippet of conversation she overheard, she felt no guilt about stepping up to rescue Ty. “Hi,” she said, thrusting her hand out for the company man to shake. “I’m Claire, and I’m so sorry to have to steal him away, but we have a small Parchesi emergency.”

“I—Oh.” He blinked, clearly confused. “Well, an emergency. Of course.”

And they left him standing there, completely befuddled.

“Thank you,” Ty said. “I’m pretty sure my ears were going to fall off. And if your emergency involves heading back to your house and rolling around in the sheets naked, I’d like to say that I’m now a big believer in the power of visualization.”

“You’ve been visualizing naked sheet rolling?” she said.

“In color. With sound effects.”

She laughed. “And the rating?”

“R for the dialogue and banter, NC-17 for the main event.”

She lifted a brow. “Not X?”

“I like to keep an open mind,” he said, twining his fingers with hers. “Maybe we should go all out, and if need be, we can always leave the X bits on the cutting-room floor.”

“Now?”

“Hell yes. I’ve talked to Joe. I’ve talked to at least half a dozen attorneys who want to represent me and another half-dozen who want to take my organization public, and two music managers who think I should sign their up-and-coming bands to play my club circuit in L.A. I’m not sure who else is here that would be interested in talking to me. Which,” Ty added with a significant look her way, “is a very good thing. Because I’m ready to get out of here. How about you?”

“Most definitely,” she said, her body firing in anticipation. She tried to remember if any other man had been able to switch her motor on so easily. Just one look, and she was purring. Then again, she thought as she saw Bonita chatting in a corner, maybe Ty simply knew how to push a woman’s buttons. After all, he’d had a lot of practice with a lot of women.

“Claire?” He frowned, looking at her. “Something wrong?”

She shook the ill thoughts away. Ty wasn’t Joe. And her reaction to him wasn’t tied to anything he said or did. Not connected to any silly flirting games he played. Instead it was all about the man. He’d gotten under her skin. And although that scared her a little, there was no denying it excited her, too.

“There are a few more people I could talk to,” she admitted. “But…

“What?”

She met his eyes. “The truth is I don’t think I can stand even five more minutes without your hands on me.”

A raw carnality seared his eyes, the intensity echoing her own desire. “Claire,” he said, her name sounding like a prayer on his lips. “Come on.”

They moved through the thinning crowd with purpose, then stopped in front of the elevator to the parking garage. The doors slid open, and they entered a blissfully empty elevator car. And when the door slid closed and started descending, he pulled her in close, pressing her body to his. “Thank God. I wasn’t sure how much longer I could wait to get my hands on you.”

Claire was pretty sure the heat they were generating had melted her bones, because she had no choice but to cling to him or else fall to the ground. She could feel him against her, hard and ready, and she knew it was because of her. Her.

The thought made her tremble. Made her wet.

His palms grazed her nipples, and she moaned, then silently cursed as the elevator dinged, and they broke apart as the doors slid open on the first parking level. Another couple stepped on, a respectable distance between them, one complaining to the other that he should have paid more attention to where he’d left the car.

Ty eased back, leaning against the wall behind her. The couple was in front of them, watching the door, and Claire almost jumped when she felt Ty’s hand on the back of her thigh. Then sneaking up under the back of her dress. His fingers stroking, so soft and gentle, and she was getting wet, so very very wet. Already her panties were soaked, a fact he soon realized as his naughty fingers climbed higher, then slipped inside.

She squealed, the covered the sound with a cough when the man shifted quickly, turning to cast a glance at her.

She tried to smile casually, which was hard to do, as Ty’s finger had found its way to her clit, and now he was stroking in long, wet strokes, the feeling of the building climax contrasting with the dangerous naughtiness of public elevator sex, the pleasure so intense that she was pretty sure she was going to have to have the coughing fit to beat all, simply so that she could disguise a raging, blinding orgasm.

The elevator stopped and the couple got off.

She twirled around, hitting the emergency stop button before pinning Ty against the wall, and taking the hand that had been teasing her so desperately and sliding it back inside her panties, shimmying a little as her body urged him on. No other man had ever made her feel like this. Wild and wanton and desperate for his touch. To be consumed. As if she wouldn’t be satisfied until she was nothing more than a pile of blazing embers, burnt up by his touch.

“You cannot,” she moaned, forcing the words out, “cannot tease me like that and then not follow through.”

“Anything you say,” he said, his voice pure heat.

She was close, so damn close, and so incredibly turned on. When he bent his mouth to her breast and pushed the flimsy material aside to suckle on her taut, tender nipple, she really and truly thought she was going to lose it right then.

“Now. Please. Just now.” Her fingers were on his fly, and she was tugging his zipper down, then urging his pants down over his hips. His cock sprang free, completely comfortable with the now plan. He turned her around, pressing her hands up against the wall of the elevator, then flipping the back of her skirt up over her ass. He ripped her panties off, and she couldn’t have cared less. Anything to get him inside her faster before she died simply from the need of him.

One hand cupped her breast and she heard him slip on a condom, then felt the tip of his cock rubbing against her sex, making them both slick and ready.

“Now,” she repeated, because she couldn’t stand not having him again. Touching her. Inside her. Thrusting and moaning as she stretched around him, taking him in deeper and deeper as they moved in perfect unison.

He kept one hand on her breast and the other he slipped down to cup her crotch, the tip of his finger finding her clit. And as his cock ravaged her, his finger teased her, until she found herself crying out his name and floating through the air, the orgasm taking her to places she really hadn’t gone before. As she went limp, he stiffened, his own orgasm sending a few more red-hot sparks of curling, swirling pleasure dancing through her.

They collapsed together, and only when they were still did they hear the voices that seemed to be surrounding them. They caught each other’s eyes, both fighting not to laugh as Ty shoved her panties into his pocket and then stood up, holding out a hand to help her do the same.

“Somehow, you always get me out of my panties.”

“It’s one of my favorite pastimes,” he retorted, then switched the elevator back to run as Claire smoothed her dress. The car cranked back to life, finally opening on their floor, where four people were gathered.

“This really is the world’s slowest elevator,” one of them commented.

Claire just shrugged, fighting a smile. “Really? It sure seemed fast to me.”