Holy shit. Aleck Fox is a dirty talker. Of course he is.

Aleck’s mouth crashes down on mine and before I know what’s happening, his tongue is at my lips, begging to be let in.

So I let him in. I let him in with a proverbial ear-to-ear grin and a plate full of cookies.

He presses his body into mine, grinding me into the elevator wall. This kiss transcends the initial cautious stages of any typical first kiss. This kiss starts with teeth, and angst, and grabbing hands. We both gasp into each other’s mouths, trying not to suffocate. Crisp pine, burning wood, whiskey, and man fill the air as his scent and pheromones make my panties notably wetter.

“I still hate you,” I breathe into his mouth.

“Feeling’s mutual, Grimm.”

I click my tongue against my teeth, tsking disapprovingly as he moves his open mouth to my neck.

“It’s Winter now. Grimm is dead.”

Aleck smiles against the skin just under my ear. “Feeling’s mutual, Winter.”

Aleck crashes his lips down on mine again, swiping his tongue across my bottom lip, growling when my hands slide up his chest and curl around his neck. He lifts one of my legs and wraps it around his waist before thrusting his hips forward, making me moan into our kiss.

With a grunt, he does it again and again, fucking me through our clothes.

The elevator dings, informing us we’ve reached our floor. Finally.

Aleck’s groping hands slide down my back to my ass. He squeezes through the silk of my dress, then picks me up, wrapping my other leg around his waist. When the door slides open, he charges through it without taking his mouth off mine.

Is this happening? This is happening. Oh my god, this is happening.

Aleck holds me up with one arm, reaching into his back pocket with the other to retrieve his wallet. He skillfully unearths his keycard—how? I have no clue—then the door beeps and unlocks. He pushes it open, drops his wallet to the floor, then kicks the door shut, never taking his tongue from my mouth.

Walking into our dark suite, he strides deeper into the kitchen and sets me down on the cold marble surface of the island. Gripping both of my knees, he spreads my legs, then steps between them.

This is about to happen in the kitchen. In the kitchen where he had two women not three nights ago…

“Wait, wait…” I push at his chest. He separates his mouth from mine. My kiss swollen lips and cheeks sting from the assault of his stubble on my face. “You had two women here already. I’d be stupid to—”

“Get out of your head, Winter.” He straightens his spine, pouring his eyes into mine. “I was piss-drunk and angry at my brother. I don’t normally do things like that. I’m no choirboy, but I’m not Hugh Hefner either.” He swipes his fingers through his tousled hair. “We are not them. This is different.”