Chapter 8: Stay

Heath did not ask me where I was from on the drive home.

He did not ask in the elevator, either, or in the hallway, or while he locked the penthouse door and leaned his back against it.

He looked at me for a long time instead.

"Your turn to say something," I said.

"I should ask."

"You should."

"I don't want to." His voice had dropped. "I watched you take Lyle apart in front of my father, and all I could think was how badly I wanted you."

I put my clutch on the table by the door.

"Then don't ask tonight."

He crossed the room in three strides.

His hands cupped my face and his mouth came down on mine, hard and hungry, with none of the slowness of the kitchen.

I kissed him back with everything I had.

*AFFECTION: 85%.*

I pushed the number out of my mind.

He walked me backward down the hall without breaking the kiss, and my shoulders hit the bedroom door and it swung open behind me.

"Ains," he said against my mouth. "Tell me what you want."

"You."

"Say more."

"I want your hands on me. I want you to stop being careful."

He made a rough sound in his throat.

He dragged the zipper of my dress down my back, and the fabric slid off my shoulders and pooled on the floor.

I stood in front of him in my underwear with my pulse going wild.

He did not move for a second.

"God," he said. "Look at you."

I pulled his jacket off his shoulders, then his shirt, and I put my mouth on the hard line of his collarbone.

He tasted of salt and champagne.

He lifted me and put me down on the bed, and then he was over me, braced on his forearms, his weight pressing me into the mattress.

His mouth moved down my throat, unhooked my bra, and closed hot over my bare breast.

He sucked my nipple hard until I arched into him and gasped.

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