Later

The hotel room door clicked shut behind Kevin with a finality that didn’t match the restless energy humming under his skin. He tossed his keycard onto the dresser with unnecessary ****, listening as it skittered across the polished surface before clattering to the floor. A muscle ticked in his jaw as he dragged a hand down his face—Christ, he could still smell her perfume, citrus and vanilla clinging to his clothes like a goddamn taunt.

Across the wall, water pipes groaned as Emily turned on the shower. Kevin froze mid-step, his cock twitching traitorously at the mental image of steam curling around her bare shoulders. He pivoted sharply toward the minibar, wrenching open the fridge with enough **** to rattle the bottles inside. The cheap plastic cap twisted off with a satisfying crack as he downed half the miniature bourbon in one swallow. The burn did nothing to settle the heat simmering in his gut.

A soft knock at the adjoining door made his fingers tighten around the bottle. Three precise raps—mocking in their politeness. Kevin exhaled through his nose, counting to five before crossing the room in three long strides. He wrenched the door open to find Emily leaning against the frame, one shoulder propped casually against the jamb. Her hair was damp, curling at the ends where it brushed the collar of a too-large hotel robe. The terrycloth gaped just enough to reveal the delicate dip of her collarbone, still glistening with droplets of water.

"Forgot my charger," she said, holding up the empty cord with an innocence that didn’t reach her eyes. Her bare toes curled against the carpet as she shifted her weight, the movement causing the robe to slip another inch. Kevin’s gaze tracked the path of a single water droplet as it slid down the exposed column of her throat, disappearing beneath the fabric.

"It’s in your bag," he ground out, fingers flexing against the doorframe. "Left pocket."

Emily leaned further into the doorframe, the robe slipping dangerously low on one shoulder. "Funny," she murmured, tracing the charger cord along her collarbone. "I could've sworn I packed it in yours." Her gaze flicked down pointedly to where Kevin's grip had turned the doorframe white-knuckled.

The scent of hotel soap and her shampoo—something floral with an edge of spice—drifted between them. Kevin inhaled sharply through his nose, his pulse jumping visibly at the base of his throat. Emily suppressed a smile. She'd seen that tell in boardrooms when negotiations turned tense, but never like this—never because of her.

"You're lying," Kevin said, voice rougher than the bourbon he'd been drinking. His free hand twitched at his side, fingers curling like he wanted to reach for the dangling charger cord, or perhaps the bare skin it brushed against.

Emily let the cord drop with a quiet thump against the carpet. "Prove it." She stepped forward, invading his space until the damp terrycloth of her robe brushed against his still-damp slacks. Kevin didn't retreat—couldn't, with the doorframe at his back—but she saw the way his throat worked as she lifted one hand to his chest. Her fingertips barely grazed the first button of his shirt. "Check your bag for me."

Kevin caught her wrist, his grip firm but not painful. "This isn't—" He broke off when she twisted her hand to intertwine their fingers, her thumb brushing his pulse point. The contact sent a visible shudder through him.

"Professional?" Emily supplied, lips curving. She pressed closer, her knee nudging between his thighs. The scent of her shampoo filled the scant space between them—jasmine with an undertone of something darker, spicier. "We're off the clock, Kevin. Or does the rulebook follow you into the shower too?"

His breath hitched when her free hand traced the waistband of his slacks, her nail catching on the damp spot where she'd spilled her drink hours ago. The fabric had dried stiff, the bourbon and club soda leaving a faint sheen. Emily wrinkled her nose in mock disapproval. "Still wearing these? You really are by the book." Her fingers dipped lower, brushing the fly of his slacks. "Let me help you out of them."

Kevin's grip tightened on her wrist. "Emily." A warning, or maybe a plea.

She leaned in until her lips brushed his ear. "Say my name like that again." The words were barely more than a breath, but she felt the full-body tremor it elicited. Her teeth grazed his earlobe—just enough to make him suck in a sharp breath—before she pulled back to study his face. His pupils were blown wide, his jaw clenched tight enough to crack teeth. Beautifully undone, and all her doing.

Emily dragged her fingertips down his chest, slow and purposeful, stopping just above his belt buckle. His stomach muscles twitched beneath her touch. "You're right," she murmured, tapping the metal clasp. "This *is* unprofessional." With a deft flick, she undid the buckle, the leather slithering free with a whisper. Kevin's breath came faster now, his chest rising and falling beneath her palm.

The robe's belt loosened as she shifted, the terrycloth gaping to reveal a sliver of smooth thigh. Kevin's gaze tracked the movement like a man starved, his throat working as he swallowed hard. Emily smiled—small, knowing—and pressed her advantage. "My turn," she whispered, popping the button of his slacks. The zipper hissed as she dragged it down, inch by torturous inch.

Kevin shuddered when her fingers grazed the straining outline beneath his briefs. "Christ," he choked out, hips jerking involuntarily. His hands flew to her wrists again, but his grip lacked conviction—more a plea than a command.

Emily pressed her advantage, her thumb tracing the damp spot at the tip where he'd leaked through the cotton. "Still think I'm uptight?" she murmured, watching his eyelids flutter. The scent of bourbon and salt filled the scant space between them, heady and intoxicating.

A bead of sweat rolled down Kevin's temple as she palmed him through the fabric, her fingers curling just so. His hips jerked again, his cock twitching against her palm. "Fuck," he ground out, fingers flexing around her wrists. "You're—" The words died in his throat when Emily dropped to her knees, the plush carpet muffling her descent.

The robe gaped open further as she leaned forward, revealing the swell of her breasts barely contained by lace. Kevin's breath hitched audibly, his knuckles whitening where they gripped the doorframe. Emily made a show of studying the damp spot on his briefs, her fingertip circling the wet fabric. "Messy," she tutted, dragging the material down just enough to free him.

Kevin's cock sprang free, thick and flushed, the head glistening where precum beaded at the slit. Emily exhaled sharply—she hadn't expected the sheer size of him, the way veins stood out in stark relief against heated skin. For a heartbeat, she hesitated, the reality of what she was doing crashing over her. Then Kevin groaned above her, the sound raw and needy, and all rational thought fled.

She leaned in, letting her breath ghost over the tip. Kevin tensed, his thighs trembling. "Emily," he warned, voice ragged. "If you—" The words dissolved into a choked moan when she licked a slow stripe from base to tip, her tongue swirling around the head. His hips jerked forward, his cock nudging against her lips.

Emily smiled up at him through her lashes, her fingers tightening around his thighs. "Tell me to stop," she challenged, her breath hot against his skin. When he remained silent, jaw clenched tight enough to crack teeth, she took him into her mouth with deliberate slowness.

Kevin's head thunked back against the doorframe, a guttural curse tearing from his throat. His fingers tangled in her damp hair, not guiding, just clinging—as if she were the only thing keeping him upright. Emily hummed around him, the vibration drawing another broken sound from his lips.

The taste of him flooded her senses—bourbon and salt and something distinctly Kevin. Emily closed her eyes, letting her lips slide down his length until her nose brushed the wiry hair at his base. Kevin gasped above her, his thighs tensing beneath her palms as she hollowed her cheeks and sucked hard.

"Fuck—" His fingers tightened in her hair, not pulling, just holding on as she worked him with slow, deliberate strokes. Emily hummed around him, the vibration drawing a ragged groan from Kevin's throat. His hips jerked forward instinctively, his cock hitting the back of her throat. She didn't pull away—just swallowed around him, her fingers digging into his thighs as he cursed again, louder this time.

The robe slipped further open as she moved, the terrycloth pooling around her knees. Kevin glanced down and froze—Emily's breasts were barely contained by lace, the peaks straining against the fabric with each bob of her head. His grip on the doorframe turned white-knuckled, his other hand still tangled in her hair like he was torn between pushing her away and pulling her closer.

Emily slowed her pace, dragging her tongue along the underside of his cock in a way that made his stomach muscles quiver. She glanced up through her lashes, meeting his darkened gaze as she swirled her tongue around the head. Kevin's breath hitched, his hips twitching forward involuntarily. "Christ, Emily," he rasped, his voice raw. "You—" The words died in his throat when she took him deep again, her throat working around him.

The scent of hotel soap and her shampoo mixed with the musk of his arousal, heady and intoxicating. Kevin's free hand drifted from the doorframe to cup her cheek, his thumb brushing the corner of her mouth where she stretched around him. Emily leaned into the touch, her eyes fluttering shut as she increased her pace, her lips tight around his length.