We crashinto my hotel room, a tangle of flailing limbs and mouths that don’t want to part. Fisher kicks the door shut behind us and drops me on the bed. His lips are red and swollen from our kisses while his hair is a wild mess on top of his head from my fingers pulling on the strands.
I struggle to regain my breath as he stares down at me. I feel like a cornered animal, but one thatwantsto get caught.
Fisher reaches up and makes quick work of undoing the buttons on his black dress shirt. He shrugs off the fabric and lets it drop to the floor while my eyes eat up his bare chest. Despite not playing professionally for years, he’s still well-muscled with a dusting of hair and freckles on his chest and stomach. He’s more filled out than the last time I saw him like this—like he was still slightly gangly back then and he’s grown into himself.
He flicks his hair out of his eyes and grins at my slow appraisal. My eyes draw lower to his erection pressing insistently against his pants.
Lifting one of my legs, I press my shoe against his stomach. “Take them off of me, please. My feet are killing me.”
Fisher obliges by gliding his warm fingers over my ankle and popping open the strap. He removes the shoe and sets it gently on the floor before massaging the arch of my foot. I moan.
“God, that feels good.”
His smile is pure, male arrogance. “I’m going to make you feel even better, baby.”
He rubs my foot for another minute or two before dropping it and going through the same motions on my other.
When he lowers my leg, he crouches down and places a hand on each side of my waist. With one hand, he tugs on the bottom of my sparkly pink dress. “This dress has driven me crazy all fucking night. This color on you is fucking stunning and the way it clings to you…” He shakes his head. “I’ve dreamed about taking it off of you since I first laid eyes on you in it.”
“Why don’t you, then?” I taunt.
He smiles so big that his eyes crinkle at the corners. “Oh, I am. But I’ve always been someone who likes to take their time unwrapping their presents.”
“Is that what I am?”
“Yeah.” He swallows. “Best fucking gift ever.”
His mouth finds mine before I can respond and we practically melt together. It’s how it’s always been with us—two magnets that can’t resist the pull.
“Roll over,” he commands.
I do as he says, resting on my knees and arching my back. Turning my head, I watch the lust-filled determined expression on his face as he lowers the zipper on the back of my dress.
He pulls me up with ease with only his hands on my waist and turns me, so I face him. The straps of my dress slide down my arms, revealing the bra I put on earlier—light pink mesh and completely see-through. He wets his lips and his Adam’s apple bobs as he stares at my breasts like he’s never seen them before.
“Ebba,” he exhales my name. “You’re so fucking hot.”
My cheeks warm. “Thank you.”
His eyes darken and he takes one step back. “Now, take the dress off.”
I wiggle the dress down past my hips and it pools at my feet. Instead of stepping out of it, Fisher grabs me by the back of my legs and lifts me up. Looping my arms around his neck, he carries me away from the bed.
“Where are you taking me?”
His smile is wicked when he sets me down in front of the window that overlooks the Las Vegas strip.
“Hands on the glass.”
“I … what?”
There’s only a small light on in the room, so it’s not like it’s entirely lit up, but the idea of standing in front of the window while he … I’m both intrigued and terrified.
“You heard me. Turn around and put your hands on the window.”
My breath stutters as I do as I’m told. My fingers shake, not fully pressed to the glass. A moment later, the warmth of his body engulfs me, and he puts his hands over top of mine, flattening them against the cool material.
“Keep your hands there.” His lips skim the top of my shoulder. “Don’t drop them.”