kicking him out last night, with an agenda. Hadn’t he already declared this...fuckfest would happen his way? On his terms?
Nevertheless, his body reacted to the sight of her. He forced his muscles into submission and adopted a casual pose while his heart thundered and his blood surged, hot and thick.
She stalked him. Sassy, confident, probably determined to get whatever she wanted, whether it was her beloved Morris Building or the orgasms he’d promised.
Her presence here, her stalking him down, offered a new and intriguing dimension to their game. How far was she willing to go? How far could he take her? Push her?
Fuck, what a turn-on. The urge to taste her in the back of his car flooded his mouth with saliva. He’d had a brief sample last night in her private elevator, but it wasn’t enough and he’d planned to gorge himself, smashing his dry spell apart. Until she’d invited her brother to join the party.
He excused himself from the thanks and congratulations around him, his lips twitching, and met her halfway across the lot. He placed a perfunctory swipe of his mouth on both her cold cheeks.
‘Careful—’ he glanced left and right ‘—we might be seen together.’
Her cheeks flushed pink, the colour reminding him of her nipples as she’d circled them with her fingers. Her chin lifted, wisps of blond catching in the light breeze.
‘I...’ She glanced down at her toes, seemingly lost for words.
Rather than a surge of satisfaction at calling her out, he missed the light in her eyes, now dull with embarrassment.
Damn, what was wrong with him? But he was still uncertain of her motives, especially after the way she’d ruthlessly ejected him from her apartment last night. And he wouldn’t be duped; better she understood that from the start.
‘If you think last night changed anything, if you’ve come to plead for a fast track on the Morris Building, save your pretty mouth. I haven’t changed my mind.’ Although the things he wanted from that pretty mouth had certainly clarified.
Her head shot up and she stared at him for long, silent seconds.
‘I came to apologise.’ No demands, no coercion, no bargaining.
His tie flapped in the breeze. He tucked it inside his jacket and fastened the button.
‘For?’ He stared her down, guard firmly in place. Yes, he knew the way her breathy moans caught in her throat seconds before she climaxed and he’d learned the perceived thrill of being caught excited her, but she was largely a stranger.
She rolled her eyes and then sighed, shoulders dropping. ‘I behaved rudely last night. I...’ A bigger sigh, her sincere eyes lifting to his. ‘I wasn’t thinking straight.’ She laughed and flushed at the same time, reminding him of her pretty, post-orgasmic glow. ‘Damn, I could barely think at all.’
So she’d had a good time. Perfect. Fresh lust slugged him in the gut along with another emotion, harder to quantify. Not that he was given to flights of introspection.
‘I...’ Her neck turned red.
He bit his tongue, fighting the urge to be the gentleman and put her out of her self-inflicted misery. She sighed, meeting his stare head-on.
‘Could we get some coffee?’
He hid a smile, tossing her a lifeline. A small one.
‘Sure.’ He tilted his chin. ‘There’s a deli across the street.’
She swivelled her gaze in the direction he indicated. Her pert nose wrinkled.
‘What? Too good for the Bronx?’ Why had she followed him here? If he could nudge her out of her comfort zone, perhaps she’d be as honest about her motivations as she was when it came to claiming her pleasure.
She smoothed her features. ‘Sure.’ With a flick of her long silvery ponytail, she stepped around him and headed towards the crossing.
In two strides he’d caught up with her, her light perfume wrapping around him. He’d worn her scent all the way back to his apartment last night—when mixed with her arousal its heady aroma amplified a hundred times over and he’d been torn between showering or spending another night hard and alone in his bed.
‘Did you design the new wing?’ She tilted her head in the direction they’d come from, her eyes sliding over him as if searching for something. A missing piece, perhaps. One she hadn’t bothered to hang around long enough to see nine years ago.
He nodded. His mouth tingled to kiss her perfectly glossy lips again. If only to remind himself he wasn’t alone in his need to taste her. She wore a nude colour today, light make-up, professional clothing. How he longed to mess her up, rumple her a little, unleash the sex goddess he now knew lurked under the sophisticated elegance she designed and wore like a suit of armour.
‘And they asked you to open it?’ She tilted her head, ponytail swinging.
He shrugged. ‘I’m a benefactor. I worked for free so they insisted.’ Whatever her opinions of him, whatever prejudices she believed about the Lane name, she didn’t know him. He had nothing to hide and nothing to prove.
She stared, not quite open-mouthed, but he’d take it. The lights changed. With his hand tingling in the small of her back, he guided her across the street and into Martinelli’s.
They ordered espresso, the delicious aromas almost enough to make him hungry for something other than Harley, but not quite. At a table for two in the window, he pulled out her chair and took the seat opposite.
‘So, you wanted something else from me?’
His ambiguous statement hung in the air. Spot on target. She flushed, fidgeting with her coat and her purse in her lap, her eyes dancing anywhere but on him.
Intriguing.
When she looked at him, she swallowed, her delicate throat lifting.
‘I have a proposal.’
‘I’m listening.’ And his cock was pretty interested, too.
She tilted her head so her hair swung over one shoulder in a way that made him want to reach out and touch.
‘I’m...’ she pressed her lips together while she chose her words ‘...between relationships right now...’ her stare hardened ‘...and I assume you’re single.’
He stayed silent, offering a small nod, desperate to see what angle she’d play. He’d already experienced her negotiation skills for her beloved building. He couldn’t wait to see how she’d broker whatever deal brewed in her smart, determined mind.
‘We could...meet up, you know, occasionally.’ She stuttered to a halt. She shrugged, as if the words meant little to her, but the tension around her full mouth told a different story, and her chest worked on rapid, shallow breaths.
Jack leaned back in his seat, legs spread, giving nothing away. A surge of triumph warmed his chest. So she craved more. Had played right into his plan to get even and get them both off.
Part
