Cloud 69

18:

I seriously regretted not just making a run for it when my mom had her back turned, and I think Carson did, too. The woman had introduced us to practically every person in the room, and each was duller than the one before. They all asked the same questions, all revolving around school or our future career paths blah, blah, blah. My fake smiles and forced laughter capabilities were hitting a wall. Every minute was agony, and Carson's hand on my side, precariously falling lower and lower the longer we talked to people, was doing nothing to help.

After what felt like years, my mother finally released Carson and me from her talons. We wasted no time slipping out of the room and were practically running by the time we reached the lobby. Laughter bubbled out of us, like giddy little children, as we made our way up to the check-in counter.

Without removing himself from me or paying any attention to the receptionist, Carson slammed his credit card on the desk and mumbled something that sounded like "penthouse suite." When the receptionist handed over the room card, Carson eagerly grabbed it and pulled us to the elevator.

As soon as the elevator doors closed behind us, Carson attached himself to me once again. His hands dug into my waist as he anchored me between his body and the wall. A smirk lingered as his lips landed on my skin, tracing a path down my jawline and neck. By the time the elevator door opened up into the room, he had made a handful of marks on my neck, and I had somehow managed to loosen his tie.

Without breaking away, Carson had picked me up like I was weightless with my legs wrapping around his waist. He carried me out of the elevator, effortlessly finding his way toward the bedroom despite his lack of focus on it.

He kneeled on the edge of the bed as he laid me down. I had a moment to catch my breath as he began unbuttoning the cuffs of his sleeves, but his heated gaze stayed locked on me.

"Hurry the fuck up."

"Calm down," he said. It was almost as if he slowed down his pace even more so, just to torture me. Watching him untuck his shirt from his pants felt like slow motion. "We have all night."

He picked up my foot by the ankle and gently began undoing the clasp of my shoe. His fingers just barely grazed against my skin as he slid my foot free of the high heel. His eyes remained steadfastly locked on mine as he drew my foot closer, placing a soft kiss on the bone of my ankle.

"No, we don't," I managed to get out as he picked up my other foot and began to repeat the process. "We have to go to Jason's."

He paused and raised an eyebrow at me. "You'd seriously rather be at Jason's party?"

Not at all, but I really didn't need to give him any more satisfaction. "We should be quick. My mom will notice."

His hand came to my thigh, pushing the slit in my dress up as his hand smoothed over my skin. My eyes tracked the slow movement of his hand. It felt like my skin was burning underneath his touch, and I wondered if he felt it, too.

He pressed a kiss to my thigh. "I've been waiting to take this dress off of you all night," he whispered against my skin. He pushed the fabric up further as he kissed my skin once again. "To fucking hell with quick. I'm not stopping until you beg me to." He removed himself from me, his hand sliding down, off my leg as he pulled himself straight. His hands moved to finish undoing the buttons of his shirt. "Understood?"

I gave the smallest nod. "Yes."

I pushed myself upright and reached to touch him. He made a noise of disapproval as one hand circled around my wrist. The other came to my chin, tilting my head back until I was looking him in the eyes. "Your turn. Tell me."