Chapter 6: Nine Floors Up

Cullen drove me home himself, in a black car with the windows down.

Neither of us said a word until we crossed the river.

I had a gold-edged invitation to stay in the room Bram had called mine.

I told Cullen to turn left instead.

He didn't ask where I meant.

He drove to the Seaport and took a private elevator nine floors up.

He unlocked a door that opened on a wall of glass and the whole black harbor.

The ring on my finger felt heavy.

I was twenty-four, and I had never in my life walked into a man's home without knowing what I wanted from it.

Tonight I knew.

"Are you going to say something?" I asked.

"I'm trying not to."

"Why?"

"Because the first thing I want to say isn't polite."

I put my bag on the floor.

"Say it."

He took off his jacket and dropped it over a chair.

He was twenty-eight, six foot two, broad through the chest.

He looked at me.

"I want you against that window," he said.

"I want you with your dress on the floor and my mouth on you until you can't stand."

My stomach dropped.

"Then come here," I said.

He crossed the room.

His hand came up into my hair and tipped my head back.

He kissed me the way he had in the diner, except there was nobody to perform for.

His mouth was hungry and unhurried, and I answered it with everything I had.

I pulled his shirt out of his belt and ran my palms up his stomach.

His skin was hot over hard muscle, and he made a rough sound against my lips.

"Zip," I said, turning my back to him.

He slid the zipper down my spine with one finger, slowly, and the green dress opened and fell to my feet.

I stood in the lamplight in nothing but a black bra and matching underwear, and I felt him go still behind me.

"God," Cullen said.

His palms spread over my ribs, then up, cupping my breasts through the lace.

He kissed the side of my neck, hot and open, and bit lightly where it met my shoulder.

I gasped and pushed back against him and felt the full, hard length of him through his trousers.

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