“I know.” His voice was rough sandpaper, heavy with desire.
“I don’t make the best decisions when you—” He pinched my nipple again and I lost the ability to form sentences.
He tugged the strap of my dress off my shoulder, and then the top of my bra beneath my breast. His lips clamped around the same peak and I made a sound I had never made before. “I think you should go to dinner with me,” he said around a mouthful.
“Wh-what?”
He lifted his head, his eyelids heavy and low. Sex was written all over his face. Sex and seduction and passion.
And it was working.
It had been a ridiculously long time since I’d been with a guy outside the rehearsal dinner with this particular guy. I’d had a lot of bad dates. I danced at parties and weddings and went out with my friends, but no guy ever came home with me. I put on this big show so nobody would realize I was totally celibate.
But now, with the air cooling the place where Vann’s mouth had just been, I realized how alone I’d been. How incredibly lonely.
How isolated I’d made myself.
“Dinner,” he repeated. “Or brunch. Or whenever you have time. I think we should try it.”
“You’re not into good girls anymore, remember?”
“And you’re not into anything serious, remember?” He leaned forward and stole a quick kiss. I didn’t pull away. In fact, I followed after him hoping for more. His head dipped so that his lips were at my ear. “Go out with me, Dillon. Let’s see how good this is.”
“What if it goes badly?”
More of that rumbly laughter. “What if it’s the best thing that has ever happened to either of us?”
I pulled back so that he was forced to look me in the eyes again. “I don’t do this,” I told him, gesturing between us. “I don’t sleep with guys or make out with them in the middle of the day. I know I seem happy go lucky, but I’m careful about who I let in.”
The frown lines appeared by his eyes. “Why is that?”
There was a lot I could say here. Or I could lie. But I didn’t want to do either. At least not today. Instead, I shrugged and looked away. “I don’t want you to get your hopes up that I would be as easy as the rehearsal dinner night.”
He growled something I couldn’t hear. When I turned back to meet his gaze, his eyes were on fire. The silver in them was molten and bright. “I’m not that easy either,” he argued. “And I wasn’t expecting anything from you now. I just…”
“I wasn’t saying you were! I don’t want you to have false expectations.”
“I don’t have any expectations at this point. I like you. That’s it. And yeah, I had a lot of fun that night with you, but you don’t even remember it so trust me when I say it’s not an experience I ever want to repeat. I prefer to be remembered. And I prefer that the woman I’m sleeping with has the ability to remember me.” He flicked the cup of my bra so that it covered my nipple again and then adjusted the strap of my dress. “Sorry, that was distracting me.”
I pressed my lips together to keep from smiling. He’d somehow managed to separate my last two experiences with sex in a candid way that made me not feel guilt or shame for sleeping with him.
It was kind of mind-boggling how he’d accomplished it so effortlessly. It also helped that I was starting to remember our night together. In fragmented, blurry bits and pieces, but they were coming back to me in bursts of intense passion. And that was a good thing. It separated what Vann and I did consensually, with that horrific night six years ago.
Vann hadn’t realized I was as drunk as I had been. And after knowing him better now, I realized he never would have slept with me had he known I wouldn’t be able to remember in the morning.
He was a decent guy. A good guy.
“I’m going to have to look at my schedule,” I told him. “I’m not sure when I’ll have time.”
He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. “Can I give you my number? Then you can just text me. I’ll make it work.”
“What if it’s five in the morning and I make you miss spin class?”
Half his mouth lifted in a sweet, patient smile. “Then I’ll miss spin class.” He cleared his throat and added, “Or we’ll go to the later class together.”
I laughed. I couldn’t help it.
“Okay. Vann Delane. Yes.”
His smile actually stopped my heart.
Okay, not quite. But it was a close call. I could lose myself in that smile. I could say yes to a lot of things just to see that smile again.
Damn.
He kissed me again and I did lose sense of time and reason and where I was. Again. Finally, we exchanged numbers and I told him I had to pick up butter lettuce, but that we would definitely find time to go on a date.
I walked, er, sort of hobbled to Lilou with a ridiculous smile on my face and a lightness in my clunky shoes. For the first time in my entire life, I felt seen. And I felt cared for.
It wasn’t just the first aid he’d so sweetly administered, it was the way he protected my heart and my priorities, and me. Vann had rescued me several times, most of the time to my own embarrassment.
But I was starting to wonder if the biggest thing Vann was going to rescue me from was myself.
Nineteen
It turned out that I didn’t have a break in my schedule for another two weeks. So in between our busy and opposite schedules, we barely had time to chat on the phone, let alone see each other. Our relationship, or whatever you wanted to call what we were doing, was reduced to flirtatious texting and five a.m. spin class. During which, I could hardly be called flirty.
Although Vann had taken to riding the bike behind mine. He enjoyed the view apparently.
I continued wearing the tightest leggings I had. And no underwear.
We grew more comfortable with each other in the absence though. The late-night texting and early morning, sleepy-selfies made me lower my guard. Having sex with Vann, even while I was drunk, had opened this door to a possibility of a relationship with him. But now that we were talking about a date and not seeing each other, texting was opening the possibility of getting to know him without the pressure of sex.
It didn’t make sense to my logical concept of how relationships worked. Sleeping with the guy and then getting to know him? That wasn’t normal. But it was working for me. It had removed the crushing fear I had been living with for years.
By the morning of our date, I was ready to get some face-to-gorgeous-handsome-clean-cut-face time in.
I wrapped my hair up in a meticulous messy bun and checked out my outfit in the mirror on my bathroom door. In tune with our unconventional relationship, for our first date Vann was taking me on a bike ride.
Frowning at my reflection, I contemplated changing. This was not how I liked to look on first dates. I was always glam to the max. Sassy shoes. Big hair. All the makeup. Something that made the guy think WOW. Or DAMN. Or anything along those lines.
Today’s outfit said, “I tried a little harder than morning spin class.”
Not my best look. Still, I knew Vann would appreciate comfort over va-va-voom. And I could appreciate that about him.
My hair was twisted and tied in a complicated network of pieced out layers. My makeup was the waterproof variety. And my sports bra and halter workout top were supportive and not sexy in any way.
I did stick with the tight, light gray leggings and no underwear though. I might regret my decisions later, but I’d cross that bridge when I got to it. For now, I was shooting for “Don’t forget I’m a girl when I totally kick your ass on the trails today.”
My phone buzzed on my unmade bed. I forced myself to stop fiddling with my hair and read the text.
I’m here. Can I come up?
I smiled at my phone and shot him a quick text back with the apartment number and directions to my front door. Then I walked to the entryway and buzzed him in.
There was this giddiness to my day. And it was strange and wond
erful and at war with a hundred different emotions inside me. I had never had this with a boy before. I had never been so completely head over heels. I had never felt this safe. I had never known a relationship could be this fun.
Which sounded ridiculously pathetic. Especially for someone who was already twenty-seven. I had given up on men being worthy and upright and kind.
Other than Ezra and Killian and Wyatt, I didn’t even know men could be this… likeable.
All the men in my life, from high school till now, had wanted something from me. My dad had wanted a trophy he could show off at parties. The guys I’d dated before culinary school had wanted sex. Or my money. Or my connections. But mainly sex. And they wanted it so badly, they would do anything to get it from me.
Or they would just take it from me. Whether I wanted to give it up or not.
Okay, to be honest, that only happened the one time. But I would never go through that again.
Never.
I waited for the stubborn resolve to push Vann away, to get him out of my life. It was how I coped. It was how I protected myself. Instead of opening myself up to being hurt like that again, I pushed people away.
And then I made sure they stayed away.
How was it that Vann was on his way up to my apartment now?
The knock at the door shook me out of my thoughts, but even as I opened it, I couldn’t make myself sabotage this morning. I wanted to hang out with Vann. I wanted to spend time with him. I wanted to kiss him. I wanted to ride bikes and enjoy the outdoors with him. Which in itself seemed crazy.
Whatever it was about Vann, made me want to try. And as strange and unlike me as that seemed, I was just going to go with it.
My therapist might even call this a breakthrough.
He was clad in spandex head to toe and if he wasn’t so adorable I would have laughed. Okay, I did laugh. But not hard enough that he ran away.
“What?” he asked, a smile playing at the corners of his lips.
“It’s just that…” I giggled again and slapped a hand over my mouth. “I wasn’t expecting Lance Armstrong this morning.”
He took three menacing steps toward me, trapping me against the wall. His lips descended on my throat, kissing and nibbling while he growled something about how Lance Armstrong was a traitor to the sport.
Obviously, I laughed harder. Also, he was now tickling me!
“I’m sorry!” I gasped for breath. “You’re not Lance Armstrong!”
He lifted his head, but his hands stayed planted on my ribcage, dangerously close to my breasts. “I appreciate that.”
Letting my eyes drift over him again, I had a change of heart toward the whole ensemble. His legs were thick and strong and muscled like none I’d ever seen before. And his chest and arms were no different. He wasn’t bulky like body builders. But there was a thickness to his muscles that showed they had seen lots of exercise.
This man took care of his body. God, had that ever been sexier?
Or maybe it was just that working in the food industry had significantly lowered my expectations of the male form. Sure, there were guys like Wyatt, Killian, and Blaze that took care of themselves. But there were also the other kind of men—the ones that didn’t find time to work out and succumbed to the endless beer and carbs.
Not that I was judging them.
I’d gained like three pounds since taking over Bianca. Between the overworked schedule and stress, my coping mechanism consisted of cheese and red meat. Hence my fresh commitment to spin class.
I wasn’t out of shape. I took care of myself for the most part if you ignored the part about the cheese and red meat. But I had nothing on Vann. He was like a perfect specimen of the male body. And I wanted to get to know him inch by delicious inch.
His gaze warmed and one of his hands moved its way up my body to cradle my face. “Hey.”
It was too easy to get lost in those gray eyes. “Hey.”
“It’s good to see you this morning,” he murmured, his head dipping with intent.
“It’s been a while,” I agreed.
“We should probably do this more often.”
My belly flipped with the way he sounded so into me. I wasn’t used to this. I couldn’t remember a time when someone had been so interested in spending time with me. Like it was the only thing he wanted to do. “Oh yeah?” I laughed.
“Then I might be able to keep my hands to myself,” he explained. “I’m just thinking about you. I’m trying to be nice.”
I pitched forward, bringing our bodies flush against each other. “Maybe I like when your hands are all over me.”
He smiled and it was everything bright and beautiful. Like the sunlight hovering just below his thunderstorm gray eyes. “Then maybe we should compromise. I see you more. And you get to have my hands all over you. Fair?”
I nodded, feeling breathless and totally swept away. “Fair.”
Then we kissed. And kissed. And kissed. I got more of his hands. And more of his mouth. And forget cycling and spandex and nature trails.
This was what I wanted all day and all night.
But he apparently didn’t. Because despite my best efforts at seduction, he pulled away. Our foreheads touched while he stood there trying to catch his breath.
“Woman,” he growled. “You are some kind of magic.”
My heart burst. Just like that. It exploded.
Okay, maybe not literally. But holy hell, there was something about him I just couldn’t resist.
I slumped against him, loving the feel of our frantic hearts beating against each other and the way his silky spandex felt against my exposed skin. But he wouldn’t even let that last forever.
Apparently, he was playing hard to get.
He kissed my forehead and stepped back. “I came all the way up here,” he teased. “I might as well snoop.”
“What?”
He started walking around my apartment, picking up random things from my kitchen counters and inspecting them.
I had a gigantic kitchen. It was why I’d picked this place. And the island was the centerpiece of the entire open space. It arced in a long line of gleaming quartz, set against the backdrop of my navy blue cabinets. My vintage appliances and metal stools made it picture worthy.
The only regret I had was that I didn’t get to spend more time in it.
But now that the schedule at Bianca was about to change… that might change too.
He whistled when he opened my double oven and peered inside. Turning around he took in the inset living room with a wide-open view of downtown Durham. There was a pretty terrace outside the long wall of picture windows, covered in green plants that my housecleaner kept alive for me.
I was suddenly embarrassed of my extravagant pad. I knew Vann was self-employed and I also knew that was hard. Running a small business was one of the hardest things on the planet. Success was only managed with grit and grind and endless amounts of tenacity.
There was always that combination of hard work, the right opportunity and just enough good luck that could launch a small business owner into happy success and autonomy. But at the same time, it wasn’t easily-earned success. Or easily kept. You would always have to work. There would never be a break. You could never just take it easy and breathe a little. Or have weekends and major holidays off. Or even sick days. And just as often as things could be great and busy, they could be slow and stretched.
Watching Vera and Killian open their own restaurant from the front row had been incredibly eye-opening. Owning their restaurant had added a heavy layer of stress. Even Vera felt it, and she had been the sole proprietor of Foodie the food truck. A restaurant was an entirely different beast. Especially when it was the caliber they were shooting for.
When I met Vann’s intense gaze, his eyebrows were raised expectantly. “Quite the place, Baptiste.”
I wrapped my arms around my waist protectively and shrugged. “Did I forget to mention that I’m an heiress?”
His mouth bro
ke into a huge grin. “I picked the wrong first date.”
Nerves dropped in my stomach like a boulder off a mountain. I hated, loathed, detested when guys thought they had to prove themselves to me. It was the fastest way on the planet to turn me off.
I took a step back, feeling my skin turn white. “Oh?” I managed weakly.
“I should have made you take us to Cancun or something,” he said, laughing.
The tightly wound tension I’d managed to work up in thirty seconds disappeared just like that. He wasn’t going to try to compete with my accidental wealth. Whew.
It was my turn to raise an eyebrow. “Didn’t I tell you? I only take the guys I really like to Cancun for our first date.”
He folded his arms, a challenge flickering over his face. “So, we are going.” I tilted my head in confusion and he added, “You said, you only take the guys you really like to Cancun. So… when does our plane leave exactly? I should probably pack a few things.”
I shook my head at him, but couldn’t help but walk toward him, pulled in by that invisible gravity that kept me trapped in his orbit. “You think I like you a lot?”
He nodded. “It’s obvious.”
“You’re so full of yourself.”
His straight-face was in danger of becoming one of those huge grins I loved so much. “It’s okay though. I like you too, Dillon.”
My heart did a herkie in my chest, arms up in the air, cheerleader-style and everything. I practically tripped down the living room stair into his arms and straight into another kiss. How did he keep doing this? Every time I questioned what I was doing or when I would run or what if I didn’t run, he would do something like this that totally reinforced why I was willing to take this chance with him.
It was like he was showing all these layers that promised I could trust him, promised I could trust my heart with him… promised I could trust my bed with him. He laid layer after layer, careful to make each one perfectly reliable.
And now we were standing on this steadfast foundation that felt firm… strong… safe.
It was me that broke our kiss this time, afraid I’d start crying. “Should we go?”
Opposites Attract: The complete box set Page 115
