Every Kiss

by C J Burright

  That seemed to stun her. She stilled her hand against the sharp jut of his hip bone. “Ian, I—”

  He rested his forehead against hers, not sure how he’d manage if she refused. “Come home with me, Gia.” The fact that he’d almost tacked on a ‘please’ should have terrified him, but he was too lost in her to fully acknowledge it. “I promise you won’t regret it.”

  She paused again. “You called me Gia.” Wonder filled her tone, as if him using her name was some sort of Christmas miracle. “You’ve never called me Gia before.”

  “I’ll call you whatever you want me to.” He brushed his mouth over hers in quick, fierce half-kisses. “Come home with me.”

  It wasn’t long before she softened, leaning into him again. She didn’t need to say the words to know he’d won. He’d sneak her out the back way, avoid the party, assign the last present duties to whoever he happened to see first. He wouldn’t give her time to reconsider. Once he had her at his house, he wouldn’t let her go until he was completely assured that he was safe once more, free of the sparkles she’d injected into his bloodstream without permission.

  He registered the snick of the door opening, too late. At the flick of the switch followed by blinding light, both he and Gia froze, caught in the crime.

  Gia’s friend—the tall, slender, natural beauty dressed in funeral black—stood in the doorway, her gray eyes wide. She seemed as stunned to find them as they were to be found.

  “Hi, Adara.” Her arm still hooked around his neck, her free hand dipped beneath his belt, Gia’s voice held a squeak. She seemed too shell-shocked to adjust their compromising position.

  Slowly, Adara folded her arms. Her eyes narrowed into a glittering glare, and despite all his practice in the courtroom and his high tolerance to intimidation, a chill ran down Ian’s neck. “I guess I can stop searching for hidden mistletoe now.”

  “Find any more?” Gia asked, using a breezy tone she probably hoped would ease the tension radiating from Adara.

  Instead, Adara stiffened. “What the hell, G?” She turned her scary expression on him. “And I suppose this”—she flipped her slender hand in his direction as if he were yesterday’s putrid trash in need of being dragged out to the curb—“is the arrogant, womanizing, incorrigible lawyer you told me about.”

  “Sorry,” Gia muttered beneath her breath, not looking at him.

  He assumed his shark smile. He’d been called much, much worse. “If you hadn’t used such a mean-spirited tone, I might have been tempted to deny all those appropriate adjectives concerning my character.”

  Adara fisted her hand.

  “Adara, this is Ian O’Connor,” Gia said quickly, as if sensing imminent violence and attempting to derail it. She slid her hand out of his pants, a fact that their stern audience didn’t miss, despite the awkward introductions in play. “Ian, Adara Dumont, my best friend.” She paused. “And Joey’s sister.”

  Joey. Of course. “Pleased to meet you, Ms. Dumont.” He supposed it was too late to remove his hand from Gia’s firm, silken thigh without appearing apologetic—which he wasn’t. Instead of snatching it back, he slowly slid down the length of her leg, savoring every inch, etching her responsive shiver into his memory until he was completely unentangled by star-crusted tulle. He missed the contact already.

  Gia slipped off his lap and straightened her dress, the universal sign that whatever she’d implied moments ago had most likely been crushed by reality and Adara. Convincing her to leave with him now would take more than his persuasion skills.

  But giving up wasn’t his style.

  Adara remained at her post by the door, clearly not going anywhere, her disapproving stare aimed at him. “So, you’re one of those types.”

  Gia shook her head. “Dar—”

  “I’m sure I don’t know what you’re referring to,” Ian interrupted smoothly. But he did. He was one of those types. The reasoning behind the action made no difference in the eyes of the world. Luckily, he didn’t care how most of the world interpreted his actions.

  “Then I’m happy to clarify.” Adara’s voice snapped with blame, and although he’d only met her, he suspected she’d make a formidable opponent in court. “A scum-sucking low-life who preys on vulnerable women who drown their grief in too much tequila.”

  He lifted his eyebrows at the unexpected accusation. That wasn’t exactly the type he’d allotted himself. He broke from Adara’s gunmetal stare to briefly study Gia. Her hair was in a sexy tousle from his hands, her mouth plump and rosy from his kisses and—damn. He was tempted to shove Adara out of the door, seal himself inside with Gia and keep kissing her until neither one of them cared who interrupted. But the flush in her face could be due to too much tequila, not merely desire, and the sheen in her summer-sky eyes looked too much like regret to dismiss as a lust-induced daze.

  His stomach twisted in an uncomfortable, unwanted manner. Perhaps Adara had it right and the only reason Gia was with him here now was because she’d drunk too much in attempting to forget the love she’d recently buried. He might be manipulative, might play to win, but he never took advantage of an inebriated woman, whether a bet was on the line or otherwise.

  And he did not appreciate how all those pieces together pushed an invisible nail into his chest, where it lodged, aching with every breath.

  “She just lost the love of her life.” Adara’s hand trembled ever so slightly as she tucked her sleek, ebony hair behind her ear. “Don’t tell me you didn’t know that.”

  “Not everyone interprets six months ago in the same manner, Ms. Dumont,” he said in a mild tone, giving nothing away of the dark emotions stirring so close to the surface. Surely Gia wouldn’t have danced with him, pretending he was Joey. Kissed him, not wanting it to be his mouth tasting, nipping, devouring hers.

  “Screw you, Mr. O’Connor.” Adara lifted her chin. “You don’t deserve to even talk to Gia, let alone seduce her, and her intoxication level has no relevance to that fact.”

  That, at least, is true.

  Gia threw her head back and groaned at the ceiling. “I’m not totally smashed, Dar. Let’s just go back to the party.”

  But Adara wasn’t finished with him yet. “Joey was someone you’re incapable of living up to—ever—in any capacity. He impacted the world in a good way, not mooched off their pain and suffering like a bloodsucking parasite. He loved Gia deeply, completely, in a manner that someone of your ilk can never hope to comprehend. You even being near her is a stain on his memory.”

  At that, Gia sucked in a shallow breath and all the blood leeched from her face.

  “‘Ilk’ is such an ambiguous word.” Ian straightened from the desk and slipped his hands into his pockets, needing the anchor. He wasn’t Joey, had no interest in the depth of Joey’s feelings for Gia, had no desire to compete with a ghost. Adara’s opinion held no weight on who or what he was—but she had clearly impacted Gia with the references to Joey. He had no trouble deciphering the flicker of guilt in her eyes that hadn’t been there before, the second thoughts in her lovely features.

  He nearly laughed aloud at the immovable roadblock ahead of him. Whether or not his beauty queen desired him, merely being with him was a betrayal of her love for Joey. The only way he’d cure his disease was to coax her away from a memory and he, more than most, understood that powerful memories never surrendered their influence, holding on with an eternal grip.

  “When Joey died,” Adara continued, her voice cracking slightly, “the world lost a vital organ, a slice of itself that won’t grow back.” Her eyes flashed, bright and fierce as lightning. “We lost a vital part of our lives that day, and there’s nothing on this plane that can replace it, certainly not an undignified grope in a dark back room.”

  Gia’s shoulders slumped and the utter devastation in her expression did irreparable damage to Ian’s fickle conscience. He might have missed his opportunity to eliminate his growing infection for her tonight, but he could absolve Gia from Adara’s blame, at least as
it pertained to Joey. It wasn’t dishonorable to anyone’s memory to want someone else after a loss, and whether or not Adara believed six months was enough time to grieve, it was apparent Gia didn’t not believe it enough to make a stand.

  Lawyer that he was, accustomed to abuse of all kinds, he’d defend the case for her, free of charge. But she was on her own with the remainder of the Adara situation.

  “I have no desire to sully the precious memory of your brother, Ms. Dumont.” He ignored her contemptuous sniff. “And Ms. Hellman never would have been in this dark room with me if I hadn’t, as you so generously phrased it, preyed on a vulnerable woman.” He ignored the weight of Gia’s attention on him, too, and shrugged. “There was a bet that I couldn’t convince her to kiss me before the party’s end. I never lose, and if I persuaded her to go beyond a kiss, I surely wasn’t going to play the honorable hero and pass up the opportunity.”

  Adara bristled, reminding him of a black cat arching her back, puffed up and ready to claw. He was mildly surprised she didn’t hiss. “You’re a sad excuse for a subpar human being.”

  “So I’ve been told.” He strolled to the exit, retrieving his sweater and leather jacket along the way. At the door, he briefly met Gia’s gaze. She studied him with a strange expression, as if he was a riddle she couldn’t figure out, without any of the loathing he expected. He nodded. “Enjoy the rest of the party, ladies.”

  The words Adara muttered, all aimed at his character or lack thereof, faded beneath the dull roar in his head as he continued onward, creating more distance between himself and where he wanted to be. Joey. Gone, nowhere near forgotten, an impassable wall between him and Gia, a barricade to the antidote he needed so desperately.

  Managing the future with Gia near and untouchable, the echoes of her lime-and-tequila kisses and soft curves burning through him like a fever, would be a challenge, one he suspected had the potential to either make or break him. Stealing a taste of her tonight had cost him. Before, his fascination had been fierce but manageable. Now he wanted her with a force that was uncomfortably close to desperation.

  But until Gia was ready, he’d have to explore his options, find other temporary remedies and hope he outlasted the flames she’d left smoldering in his veins. He’d have to practice restraint and avoid her at the office as much as possible, not speak to her and certainly not touch her.

  He closed his eyes briefly at the scalding memory of her velvet skin, her sweet, sinful mouth beneath his. He might have won the office bet tonight, but he’d lost the real prize.

  Chapter Eight

  Monday is going to suck.

  Gripping her skirts to keep herself from running after Ian and clobbering him with her shoe, Gia settled for staring at the space where he’d disappeared. She wasn’t sure what she’d do if she caught up with him, anyway—or which emotion to throw at him. There were too many circling through her with tornado force to focus on one. Besides, she hadn’t pinpointed if the spinning room was the result of her margarita intake or the aftereffects of hot moments in the dark with Ian O’Connor.

  She leaned against the desk where she’d considered taking all the amenities Ian had to offer. Holy crap, the man can kiss. All the frustration winding her tight, leaving her achy and wanting, was entirely his fault. And the way he’d walked out so casually, as if the last half hour had left him unaffected, as if it had meant nothing, added a twist of fury… Even knowing what he was, what he’d wanted from her, she’d fallen for his charm, stunned by starlight, his amazing mouth and bewitching hands.

  But as much as she’d love to blame him for seducing her and winning the bet, that loss was all on her. In a moment of weakness, she’d let him manipulate her.

  Worse, she couldn’t bring herself to regret it. Much.

  At the door, her arms folded, Adara watched her with storm-gray eyes, clearly waiting for her to make the next move.

  Gia’s throat tightened. And that was where the weight of regret came in—not that she’d let Ian melt her inhibitions away or had royally lost the bet and would have to face the consequences on Monday, but Adara’s pain. Watching Adara’s brief meltdown had been the reason she hadn’t chased after Ian or defended herself and instead stood numbly by, unable to even raise a mild protest as he bore the brunt of Adara’s wrath. The agony in her words, the grief in her expression, so deep and raw, had cut Gia to pieces. Walking out on Adara after that uncharacteristic display of emotion, choosing Ian over their mutual heartache, the connection they shared through Joey, would have been an unforgiveable betrayal.

  For Adara and the undying love and respect they each retained for Joey, she’d try to forget that, for a moment, she’d held magic in both hands again, only to have it disappear with the light. For her own good, she’d do her best to dismiss that it had been Ian who’d reignited that sparkle. She’d blame her weakness on one too many margaritas and leave the dance, the kiss and the thrill of being in the dark with Ian to secret midnight fantasies.

  But she didn’t share Adara’s conviction that life remained paused since Joey’s death. Her world had stuttered at losing him—she’d never deny that—and while six months might not be long enough to finish grieving, it was enough time to want to breathe again.

  Gia sucked in a deep gulp of oxygen and blew it out. “Dar, are you okay?”

  “Why wouldn’t I be okay?” Adara’s eyes flashed like lightning. “I’m not the one who was in a dark room with a lecher.”

  Gia pressed her lips together and averted her gaze, not trusting herself to speak. Telling Adara to mind her own business would create a rift she didn’t want. Throwing Adara’s sorrow back in her face was too cruel. Defending Ian and her own choices would earn her a week-long lecture. Explaining that she’d been more than willing to stay until daybreak in the dark with him might result in a nuclear explosion.

  “I’m not accusing you of anything, G. I just don’t want to see you get hurt.” The lines around her mouth softened and Adara uncrossed her arms. “Do you know why Joey made me promise to accept every social invitation you threw at me?”

  Yes, to keep you from isolating yourself from the world and drowning in your grief. “Because you love to party?”

  “Har.” She rolled her eyes. “Because he knew you’d forget how he loved you, that you don’t need the approval or lust

  “I haven’t forgotten.” Tears burned her eyes. She crossed the room and flung her arms around Adara. “I miss him.”

  “I know.” Not one for hugs, Adara awkwardly patted her back. “I want you to promise me something, G.”

  “Sure.” Gia blinked the wetness from her eyes and eased back. “Anything.”

  “No more Ian O’Connor. You’re better than what he’s offering in return. You deserve a man who will truly love you—all of you, forever—not just use you for a few hours.”

  “I—”

  “Promise me, G.” Adara settled a hand on each of Gia’s shoulders and squeezed gently, holding her gaze, her eyes serious and dove-soft. “No more kissing rotten, scum-sucking lawyer-types. Your identity isn’t tied to any man, not Joey and certainly not Ian O’Connor. If a man chooses you for whatever reason, you're not required to choose him back. I want you to be happy, and selling yourself short isn’t the way to find it.”

  After Ian’s blatant confession and ditching her without a shred of regret, he hadn’t given her any evidence to believe she’d been more than his target of the night, cast aside without a second glance. His reputation spoke for itself and Adara was right. She didn’t want another man who only saw her as a sex object.

  No matter how world-shaking it might have been while it lasted.

  For Dar. For Joey. For myself. “I promise I’ll keep my lips far from any scum-sucking lawyers, especially if margaritas are involved.”

  Adara lifted her chin and both relief and humor shone in her eyes. “Let it be known that the Ian O’Connor Threat Act is officially established.”

  “Do we drink to that, or…?”

/>   “Definitely not.” Adara looped her arm through Gia’s and pulled her toward the door. “I’m driving you home.”

  But on the way home, in the quiet of the car and the night passing by, Gia couldn’t push back the echo of Ian’s hands on her skin, his mouth on hers, and how for a brief, flaring moment in the dark she’d been fully, fiercely alive.

  * * * *

  Monday wasn’t quite what Gia had expected. No one had snickered when she slunk into the employee entrance of Hamilton & Associates. There wasn’t a single wriggle of the eyebrows as she’d hung up her wool coat, scarf and hat and neither a smirk nor snide comment from the few co-workers she’d passed as she snuck through the corridors with as much dignity as she could to her office. No one had even acted surprised that she’d worn a beige sweater dress and neutral pumps to blend into the woodwork better. It was all business as usual. Maybe I’ve entered an alternate universe. Everyone had to know she’d lost the bet with Ian, that he’d kissed her silly.

  And had made her weekend dreams ridiculously steamy.

  But it was the present she’d found sitting on her office desk with its sparkly silver wrapping paper and velvet pink ribbon that had made her stomach flip.

  That had been ten minutes ago, and she still hadn’t opened it.

  Gia rested her elbows on the short stack of files waiting for her attention and squinted at the box. She’d left it in the pocket of Ian’s leather jacket on Saturday at the party, where she’d stashed it before the fateful dance, when all her inhibitions and common sense had crumbled beneath his curse. The fact that he’d deposited it in her office before she’d arrived to work rather than use the opportunity to harass, flirt or otherwise attempt to seduce her again was enough proof that every word he’d said to Adara had been true. He’d wanted to win the bet and hoped to score with her in the process—nothing more, nothing less.