Free My Front Page Scandal by Carrie Alexander

fourteenth floor. Which meant he was really on thirteen. But she didn’t believe in bad omens. She didn’t.
    “It’s okay. I ducked.” One lone photographer had popped out of nowhere at the entrance to the hotel and snapped them going inside. Blessed with fast reflexes, Brooke had kept her head down. No one would recognize her from the dress.
    Probably not even from the body in the dress, since the real Brooke never showed hers off.
    David turned to face her, standing closer than was comfortable. The vibrations of the motorcycle ride to his hotel had already set her on edge. Opened her up.
    Now hot shivering arousal poured inside.
    She backed off a step, into the corner of the elevator.
    He followed. “I should have warned you. Going out with me is hazardous to your privacy.”
    “And my reputation.”
    He slid his hands along her arms as he stepped even closer. “Do you care about that?”
    She swallowed. “Not tonight.”
    He kissed her. Hard.
    Brooke swooned. Actually swooned, her eyes rolling back—and catching sight of the camera high in the corner. She put her hands on his chest to hold him off.
    “There’s a camera filming us.”
    He chuckled and went for her neck, nuzzling and nipping. “Can’t get away from them.”
    “Please.” She pushed.
    “I guess I can wait another five seconds.” He put his arm around her waist and stood with her directly in front of the doors. But five seconds was too long, apparently. He caressed her hip, then dropped lower along her flank until he was fingering the hem of her dress. His hand slid past the slit to her bare thigh.
    “David,” she said, unmoving. Too aware of the camera recording them. From the front, but not the back.
    “What?” His voice was all innocence. His fingers, however—they were making wicked, wicked forays. He’d reached her bottom and was tracing its curve with his fingertips. “I’m only checking to see if you’re wearing panties this time.”
    He squeezed a cheek. “Aha. A thong.”
    She was stunned, frozen. He’d known!
    One finger slid along the crease of her cheeks, following the narrow strip of thong to the juncture of her thighs. He rubbed her there, boldly, and she sucked in a sharp breath, bolting for the doors as the elevator chimed and they parted.
    She rocketed into the hallway. She might have even bounced off the damask wall if he hadn’t captured her between his arms and hustled her a few rooms down. He ran the key card and they burst through the door, already kissing even before it shut behind them.
    “Oh, David. Oh…” Brooke panted. “David.” She was completely overwhelmed. The underground stream had become a torrent, sweeping away every one of her inhibitions. She was nearly as wild and aggressive as he, lost in the tumult of hungry kisses and almost painful caresses. Without turning on the lights, they fell into bed, wrapped in each other’s bodies so tightly that removing clothing was practically an impossibility.
    He slid her dress up to her waist, caught the back of the thong and yanked it down.
    For one millisecond, a protest hovered on her lips. This was happening too fast.
    She couldn’t think. Couldn’t react.
    David’s mouth came down on hers, hot and sucking and invading, snapping her last thread of control. His body was hard, thrillingly abrasive, rubbing against her, all of her, and she let herself fall open to the rough pleasure of it. Her thighs spread wide as he pushed hard with his hips, grinding his hard-on against her yielding flesh. Lightning jolts of sensation crackled between them.
    Straining, she reached for his fly. His jeans were black and tight. Way too tight. She got them unsnapped but he had to do the rest, shoving his hand inside so he could get the zipper down. The room was too dark and they were so entangled she couldn’t get a look at him, but she felt him. Oh, my, how she felt him, hot and thick and pulsing with life between her thighs.
    He managed to roll on a condom and