“Bordeaux?” His voice jarred her from her thoughts and Vivienne cast a puzzled glance in his direction. He stared straight ahead, and she had the perfect view of his profile. Defined jaw, prominent nose, strong brow bone. Gorgeous. “Are you French?”
“No,” she replied a little breathlessly, feeling as if her clothing was too tight. She could feel her nipples poking against the cotton material of the bra and was deeply aware that the dampness in her panties had escalated. Oh Jesus, she really needed to get away from this man. Clearing her throat, she continued, hoping her voice was normal. “My mother is…French, that is.”
Vivienne tried to refocus on the images that had recently come to her. She was beginning to think they’d actually happened, but questions remained. Why had Max pulled her away from him? And what happened after? When was she drugged? Who’d drugged her?
***
Conall nodded, but he really wasn’t interested in her parents. He was trying to keep his mind off her scent. The sweet muskiness of her wet sex penetrated the stale air, and he was in no way immune to it, especially confined in an elevator. No sane man or wolf could resist that call, and his hands fisted as he attempted to fight his very nature.
She was human. It would not last. He would hurt her. She would die.
By Luna, it was impossible to ignore her, especially with her making unconscious little sounds in her throat as she tried to stamp down her own arousal. He could feel her distress, both with her need and the thoughts swarming her, but could only focus on one thing. Without thinking, he reached forward and slammed his fist against the red button at the side of the elevator. It came to a screeching halt, and she pitched forward into his arms as he fell back against the wall.
Her eyes widened in confusion as her hands grabbed at his shoulders.
“What are you—?” Those words were lost in his mouth as he tasted the sweetness of her lips. His beast surfaced as he pulled her close, capturing her sighs and moans in his mouth, and slowly perusing her body with his hands.
***
Vivienne’s bag fell to the ground and although the sound was loud enough to jar a slight ounce of common sense back into her, she was past listening. She rocked against him, both shocked and enthralled at the hardness that pushed into her belly. His hand slipped underneath her shirt and she gasped, pulling her lips away from his and placing restraining hands against his jacket.
She wasn’t one of those girls, the girls who made out with their boss’s hot, rich client in an elevator, and she wasn’t one to make out with strangers in a club, either. Vivienne Bordeaux did not do things like this…until him.
A wolfish smile touched his lips, and although alarm crept up her spine, her body seemed to melt even more. Before she knew what he was doing, a hand was at her shoulder and she was being pushed backward, up against the elevator wall. He continued to advance until his body was once more tightly pressed against hers, her breasts locked to his hard chest, his strong legs against hers.
“Wait, stop—please, I can’t—I mean, I’m not like this. I don’t do things like this.” Vivienne was shocked at the huskiness in her voice. She now understood why they called it ‘bedroom voice.’ This was making no sort of logical sense, dammit! She didn’t know him. Well, she’d just found out his name and his job, but that didn’t mean…didn’t mean….
Her thoughts left her when his lips touched a sensitive spot on her neck, one she hadn’t even known she had. Conall’s tongue darted out and caressed it intimately before giving her a small nip that sent rapid-fire jolts of electricity to her nerve endings. From there, he sucked at her earlobes, and ran his tongue along her chin as his hands skimmed her flat belly. Groaning, Vivienne moved her hand through his mass of thick hair and kissed him hard. She wanted him to take her, to make her his. She wanted to be his. She didn’t even know where those thoughts were coming from but at that moment, that was what she wanted.
As if sensing her inner battle was lost to his appeal, Conall’s hands began opening her blouse. Impatient with the many fasteners, he stopped halfway and ripped the shirt open. She gasped as buttons flew all over the elevator. His warm hands settled against her bra and he yanked that down, exposing her to sight and touch. When his hands caressed her nipples, she screamed into his mouth, and as his mouth left hers to suck at the budding peaks, she closed her eyes and let it happen.
“You even taste like peaches.”
Vivienne barely felt when his hands moved to her pants or underwear, only recognized when they were pooled at her feet and his fingers were playing with the short, trimmed hairs of her juncture. A short spurt of self-consciousness ran through her at being so exposed to this stranger, who wasn’t quite a stranger, in a public elevator, before it vanished. His hand cupped her sex, and she gyrated against him in wild excitement. Vivienne shuddered, and cried out when his finger suddenly parted her folds and flickered over the hardened bud at her apex.