Me: Are you asking what I think you’re asking, Cookie? Say the words. Tell me what you want.

Hendrix: I want you to fuck me, Jase. Hard. Fast. In this dress. Against a wall. On the floor. Bent over. I don’t care so long as it’s soon.

Me: Is that so?

Hendrix: Maybe I want to fuck the Madison Sinclair right out of you. Operation Live-A-Little.

Jesus. Fucking. Christ.

I reread the text again to make sure she really just sent that to me. That she really just said that.

Yep.

She sure as fuck did.

My cock stirs and I don’t need anyone, let alone these fuckers, to see it. “I’ll be right back. Hendrix needs to be rescued.” The lie is quick and easy and is greeted with chuckles from the guys.

But I don’t care. All I see is the purple dress. All I can think about is slipping it up over her hips, bending her over, and sliding into her tight pussy.

Operation Live-A-Little is the best fucking plan I’ve ever had.

Hands down.

I reach Hendrix in seconds—her lips parted, eyes darkened, and cheeks flushed—and grab her elbow with a little more force than necessary.

More like desperation.

“Let’s go,” I mutter.

“I thought you’d never ask,” she taunts.

CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

Gizmo

She’s laughing. The sound is throaty and pure seduction as her fingers lace with mine, and we move quickly, dodging people as we search for somewhere to have our own little party.

I tug her into the elevator, punch the button, and the doors slide shut with an agonizing slowness. Her breath catches when I press her up against the wall, pinning her there with my body. My lips are on hers in an instant, her kiss tasting like sparks begging to ignite, as her fingers tangle in my hair and pull me closer.

She tastes like mint and want and Hendrix, and I don’t know how I’ll ever want anything else.

“Upstairs. There has to be somewhere upstairs to go.”

“There’s always this elevator.” She nips my bottom lip and tugs on it.

“You’re crazy,” I murmur against her mouth. And I fucking love this side of her. Brazen. Daring. Asking for what she wants.

“I’m serious,” she whispers, and it’s all I can do not to rip that damn dress off right here.

The elevator dings and we stumble into the hallway. A quick glance around shows me a women’s lounge and I grab her hand, practically pulling her there.

“If anybody’s in here, I suggest you go out!” I yell and am greeted with the glorious sound of silence. No sooner do I lock the fucking door behind us and my lips are on hers again.

My hands pull up the hem of this stunning purple dress.