And now Ava was bearing witness to it all, which should make her feel squeamish as hell, not hot and bothered.
But Ava realized it had nothing to do with her best friend being star of the show, and everything to do with a hard-bodied sexy male crushed tightly in the chair next to her. The room was hot and his scent filled the space around them. Earthy, musky, like leather and the outdoors, Rick’s scent obliterated the stale odor of pot and beer that permeated the room.
She found she’d much rather focus on him, smell him, look at him. He was way more appealing than the action on the bed. She shifted, tilting her hip into the chair so she partially faced him.
“You bored?” he asked, picking up a strand of her hair.
“Watching other people have sex isn’t nearly as much fun as doing it.”
He cupped her chin between his fingers and brushed his lips across hers. Feather light, the shock to her senses was electric, more powerful than if he’d bruised her with a demanding, hard kiss. It left her wanting more . . . much more, charging her nerve endings with tiny pinpricks of awareness. Her body felt alive, needy. And with each slow slide of his mouth across hers, she was the one who felt drugged, drunk, and all she’d had was two sips of beer. It wasn’t alcohol driving her haywire. It was Rick, making her forget where she was, even who she was. All she could think about was grabbing onto his leather jacket and drawing him closer, throwing her leg over his so she could rub her pu**y against his thigh.
She was wet, the denim of her jeans pressing her panties into her moist flesh, making her aware of how much she wanted him, wanted this. When he pulled away, Ava glanced over at the bed.
Lacey’s jeans were off. So was her bra. Rachel was naked and Nathan’s mouth was latched onto one of her ni**les.
Bo had moved Lacey underneath him and ground his jean-clad body against her, his hands all over her br**sts while he kissed her.
The sensory overload was too much, the decadence exciting her to boiling point. She couldn’t take anymore of this.
She turned to Rick. “Take me out of here now and f**k me.”
He stood, offering his hand to pull her up.
In that split second she caught sight of his erection visible against his jeans. She shuddered and tilted her head, licked her lips.
Rick grabbed his jacket, hers, and walked them out of the room without a word. Really, there was nothing to be said. The others were too engrossed in their own passion to even care . . . or notice . . . that they were leaving.
And Ava was too intent on Rick to care about saying good-bye. There was only one thing she wanted now.
Rick.
SEVEN
Ava shivered in the elevator.
“You cold?”
She shook her head.
“Nervous?”
“No. Not nervous.”
Rick moved in, palmed the wall on either side of her shoulders, his erection making contact with her aching pu**y. She nearly died right there, shocks of pleasure centered at her clit, right where he touched her.
“Then what’s wrong?”
“Just get me to my room, unless you’re fond of elevator sex.”
His lips curled, and oh, God, the heat in the elevator tripled when he smiled like that. It was a good thing she had the wall at her back for support, because her legs were useless.
“I’m okay with elevator sex if you don’t think you can wait that long.”
Thank God the doors opened right then because she was just about ready to take him up on his offer. He took her hand and dragged her down the hall.
“Your room or mine?” he asked.
She’d already fished her key out of her bag. “Mine’s closer.”
He grabbed the key from her hand, unlocked the door, and pushed it open. She was inside, the door shut, and Rick had her in his arms a split second later. Their jackets fell to the floor. It was pitch-black in the room and she felt blind as Rick walked her backward a few steps until she hit the wall.
That’s as far as they got before his lips came crashing down on hers.
Ahh, contact. His body moved in, flush against hers so she could feel every muscle, every hard, throbbing part of him. His mouth was on hers, his tongue sliding inside to lick against hers. His hands roamed her shoulders, down her arms, stroking her hips and waist, traveling around to cup her bu**ocks and bring her even closer to the rock-hard heat of his cock.
His mouth did delicious things to her senses—what little senses she had left, anyway. All she could focus on was his touch, the way he tasted, the masterful way he held her—so firm and tight in his arms—and yet she sensed a strong desperation like maybe he, too, wanted this as badly as she did. Could that even be possible? Rick always seemed so laid-back, like nothing really mattered to him.
Did this matter?
When he pulled the bottom of her shirt out of her jeans and he laid his palm over the bare skin of her belly, she shuddered and tilted her head back, breaking the kiss. She needed air, some coherence, something to balance her. She felt out of control and she was never out of control. Sex had always been easy, a natural progression that arose out of dinner, a few drinks, being comfortable and relaxed with her partner.
This was anything but easy and relaxed. It was tense, agitated, crazy, a frenzy of passion and pent-up anxiety. Her entire body felt like it was ready to explode at the slightest touch—Rick’s touch. She couldn’t handle this.
“What’s wrong?”
She panted through the words. “I can’t . . .”
And then she felt Rick’s tension. He took a step back.
Oh, no. That’s not what she’d meant.
She didn’t want to be anywhere else.
“No.” She grabbed his arms. “Wait.” She wasn’t going to let this happen again. She wasn’t going to let him slide on the brakes because she hesitated. Because she feared that loss of control.
Maybe it was good to experience out of control for once, to let someone else take charge and see what it felt like. So far, it was giddy and exhilarating, even if it did make her dizzy. Maybe it was all the secondhand pot she’d inhaled in Bo’s room.
But she doubted it. Not when Rick’s hands snaked up her bare belly, moving her shirt with them.
“You sure?”
The warmth of his breath caressed her cheek.
“Yes.” She clasped onto his wrist, held him there. “Touch me.”
Her heart skittered and raced as his fingertips hit the edge of her bra and skimmed over the satin.