One Taste

by Cari Quinn

  “There is that.” He rolled her lower lip between his teeth so that his laughter spilled into her mouth. “But that’s not all. I liked hearing you pounding the keys every time I woke. Though that light’s damn annoying.”

  “I need to see to pound.”

  He grinned, his lids already lowering. “I have a feeling you could pound just fine in the dark.”

  Her own grin flashed as she lifted the arm he’d draped around her. Good. If he fell asleep again, she could finish the scene.

  “Uh uh. If my warm, willing woman’s spending the night, she’s going to sleep beside me.” Though Vincent said the words with a lazy sweep of his lips over her shoulder, there was no mistaking the possessiveness in his tone.

  My warm, willing woman. Shouldn’t her inner feminist be squawking at that? But it was no use. While the silly, infatuated girl inside of her absorbed the thrill, Kiki attempted to sound stern. “Only for a little while. The chapter’s not done yet.”

  He drew her closer. “Sleep.”

  She wet her lips, jealous that he already was. As if it were that simple. Sure, she’d fallen asleep with him last night, but that had been a one time event. Vincent didn’t know how long it had taken her to feel comfortable sleeping with Nico, and he’d been her fiancé. With the handful of lovers she’d had after her ex, she’d never even tried it. What was the point? Every time she started to drift, she sprang wide-awake.

  But she’d humor him. The apartment was freezing, as usual, and tucking her bare toes under the hem of his sweats would warm her up more quickly than a pair of his holey socks.

  She breathed deep as she laid her cheek on his chest, right above his heart. He smelled of antiseptic, Dial soap, and aftershave. What a combo.

  Her lids closed. She’d just rest her eyes for a minute….

  When Vincent woke, she was curled beside him, facing away. He winced at the flare of warmth in his shoulder when he leaned up to peer at her face. Whatever the doctor thought, the pain was beginning to lessen. Slightly. Cartwheels were probably out of the question for a while yet, but sex definitely wasn’t. At the moment, however, there was only one thing he wanted.

  To watch Kiki sleep.

  She’d tucked her knees up to her chest, and she held on to herself as if she needed to feel someone’s arms, even her own. He slid his fingers along the lock of hair clinging to her lips, and she murmured something, though her eyes remained tightly shut.

  Giving in to the urge, he pressed a kiss to her cheek, one that was more air than skin meeting skin. But she still smiled, and his heart still gave a peculiar bump against his ribs.

  He let out a long breath that rippled her streaked pixie hair. Too much going on here. He should put a stop to it. Even if he needed her help with his book—and if he were being honest, wanted her help, too, because she’d made writing fun again—that didn’t mean he needed to sleep with her.

  In bed. Without having sex. Two nights in a row, though what had happened this morning tipped the scales slightly. Still, a first to be sure.

  He circled her waist with his arm and pulled her back against him as she released a soft sigh. Tomorrow, he’d think about stops. Tonight, he’d sleep with her in his arms.

  Chapter Twelve

  The next time he awakened, he heard Kiki’s voice before he reached for her, only to find her half of the bed empty. And cold.

  “I have to be quiet, Dad. Lynsay’s sleeping. I’m sorry I didn’t check my voicemails last night. There was…uh, a situation.”

  Vincent threw his good arm over his eyes. No, Lynsay was not sleeping. Though he wished he still was.

  “Everything’s fine now, but I wanted to spend the night to make sure he—she, I mean—was okay.” Her voice lowered. “Uh, yeah. She took a bad fall. The doctor warned her she’d have to be careful for a while because any wrong move could turn it into a break.”

  Vincent’s lips quirked. No wonder this writing thing came naturally to her. She was a born liar.

  “Dad, it takes time to find a decent job. Surely you don’t expect me to grab the first thing I come across—you do? Really? What time should I be there?”

  He groaned. Jesus, Kiki, way to stick to your guns.

  By the time she hung up the phone, he’d sprinted past annoyed to pissed. At least until he fumbled on his glasses and glimpsed her sitting cross-legged on the floor, reading 100 New Positions For Lovers.

  “Damn.” She cocked her head to study the full-color demonstration guides. “Just never imagined.”

  When he started to laugh, she nearly lost hold of her treasure. “Vincent. I can explain.”

  He shifted to a sitting position and grimaced at the ache in his arm. Sleeping tended to add as many kinks as it took out, now that he couldn’t rest normally. An unconscious move could end up causing him an hour of agony, so he’d pretty much learned to stay motionless. God, he couldn’t wait until he was back to normal. The pain wasn’t nearly what it had been—snowball interceptions and subsequent falls aside—but it was enough.

  He’d been put on sex watch, for fuck’s sake. Denying a man such a basic liberty was nothing short of inhumane, especially with Kiki around.

  Yep, all roads circled back to Kiki eventually. The cause and the cure to all his problems.

  Still a bit unsteady, he rose, then knelt to catch her chin in his hand. “Explain what? Why you felt it necessary to poke through my stuff? Or maybe why you referred to me as a woman to your father?” The mixture of surprise and uneasiness clouding her eyes stacked a few more logs on his roaring fire of annoyance. “There’s also that morsel about you grabbing the first job you’re offered, despite your claims you wouldn’t. But who’s keeping track?” He met her mouth in a hard kiss. “By the way, good morning.”

  The moment was much too brief, but he wasn’t the one who pulled back. Somewhere along the line, Kiki had officially assumed the role of the one who pulled back in their relationship. And he didn’t like it one bit.

  “Morning.” She gnawed on her lower lip as if she’d missed breakfast. “I didn’t mean to poke into your stuff. Okay, maybe I did a little.”

  “Uh huh.” He eased down beside her and raised an eyebrow at the myriad sex books and romance novels—by none other than Vicenza Bishop—scattered over the rug. “Let me guess. You tripped over the books, even though they were in a closed cabinet.”

  “Sort of. When I went looking for white-out, I bumped the cabinet, and a book fell out. Then I saw that.” She jerked a thumb at the overflowing pink bag propped against the desk. “Nice array of toys you’ve got. One for every occasion.”

  “Don’t think I have anything for Easter.”

  Her cheeks reddened as she set the sex manual on the floor. “The bunny tickler would do the job, I’d think.” She pushed a hand through her hair, knocking loose the pencil wedged behind her ear. “Look, none of my business. This is a temporary arrangement. God knows, it’s common knowledge you’re a womanizer, so maybe this isn’t unusual. But excessive interest in sex toys and porn aside, you seem like a normal guy. Mostly.”

  Idly, he scratched his stomach. “Done?”

  She released a breath. Sucked in another. “Yeah. I guess.”

  “Good.” His lips lifted, but he wasn’t smiling on the inside. At all. “So everyone knows I’m a womanizer, huh? Based on what? That I like women? That I go after what I want?”

  “Until you get bored and toss it away,” she muttered.

  His smile turned brittle. “Not that it’s any of your business, as you keep saying, since this is just a three week screw-fest we’ve got going, but you’re the third woman I’ve slept with this year. They won’t be fitting me for a halo anytime soon, but I’m not quite racking up the notches every week, either.” Her silence had him angling his chin. “Yeah, I keep copies of my books. The sex books I bought for research. For my books, Kiki. Occasionally you need new nuts to spice up the same old coffeecake. If something spills over into real life, so be it. Haven’t heard any com
plaints yet.”

  “I’m not judging you.”

  “Bullshit. You’ve been judging me ever since I walked into the Quikky Snak that first night and asked you where to find the condoms.” Vincent kept his gaze steady on hers. No mean feat, since his heart was hammering about as fast as her color was deepening. “Not that I needed them. I haven’t been with anyone since I met you.” He swallowed. For chrissakes, that was a disturbing thing to admit. “But there was this girl, and I couldn’t kick her chair in class so I sized up my audience and played a hunch.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “You never asked me out until the night of the shooting.”

  “Because you would’ve turned me down flat. I’ve been turned down enough to be able to spot the signs.” Her soft pink lips shone wetly, an irresistible lure. He started to lean in for a sample, but she laid a hand on his chest.

  “And the toys? Research, too?”

  “They were a gift from Stacie. Her idea of a birthday present. And since I can see the wheels turning, no, we didn’t use them. We broke up that night.”

  “But you didn’t throw them away.”

  He grinned. “Do I look stupid to you?”

  He didn’t know how she’d respond to the question, but she stunned him by laughing the bawdy Kiki laugh he adored. “I’d probably keep them, too, if I were you.”

  “A minor point of agreement.” He traced a fingertip around the curve of her mouth. “One more thing. So-called ‘normal’ men do watch porn. Jacking off is an inalienable male right.” At least solo sex hadn’t been denied him. Though he probably wasn’t supposed to enjoy it.

  “Ah, yes.” She popped to her feet. “And only male, I’m sure.”

  “No, we’re willing to share.” Hearing her laugh as she collected her stuff almost made him forget he wasn’t finished being pissed about her conversation with her father. “Where’re you off to in such a rush?”

  “My dad scheduled an appointment for me at his law firm. Nine a.m., sharp.” She threaded her fingers through her hair, her idea of morning primping. “It’s only a temporary night typing job, but hey, my speed’s getting pretty good.” She waved her navy blue nails. “At least it’ll pay the rent a little longer.”

  “What happens when you can’t pay it?”

  “Another discussion I had with dear ol’ dad this morning. We covered a lot.” She let out a nervous laugh and hitched her bag over her shoulder. “If I can’t find a permanent position, I’m going to move back home for a while. Hopefully, I’ll find something soon, but if I don’t, I can’t afford my rent. Not that quitting wasn’t the right decision,” she added.

  “You don’t need to take a temp job doing something you’re overqualified to do,” he said, rising. “Lynsay mentioned you were a psych major yesterday. You went to college?”

  “Surprise, surprise.” She gave him a cool smile. “Almost had my master’s. But I’m not interested in a career diagnosing other people’s issues. I’ve got enough of my own, thanks.”

  He stared at her. “You have a master’s degree?”

  “I said almost. Kinda blows your preconceived notions of who works in a gas station to hell, doesn’t it?”

  “You wanted a job that makes you happy.” Though he tried, he couldn’t stave off his irritation. “Not to make coffee for a bunch of bozo suits.”

  “Maybe I just don’t have that option right now, Vincent.” That her voice left a quiet echo as she strode out of the room made him feel even more like a jerk.

  He debated thirty seconds whether he should follow her, then finally gave in. What choice did he have? If he didn’t argue her out of taking this stupid job, he’d never get to see her, and they only had two weeks. Less than.

  “Kiki, wait.” He trailed after her as she rushed across the living room. “We talked about me paying you for your help with the book. I don’t want you taking on a job, especially one at night.”

  “Whoa.” At the door, Kiki whirled around. She clutched her jacket to her chest and held her boots in one hand. From her expression, he seriously doubted she’d stop her outbound flight long enough to put them on. “Does that conflict with your ideas about my uses to you?”

  Just when he thought he had a handle on the fairer sex, he saw how very wrong he was. “What the hell’s that supposed to mean?”

  “I’m not supposed to work at night? That sounds awfully paternal, especially coming from a guy I’m just sleeping with. You’re not my father. I don’t need your money. Or is there more to it? Like, oh, I don’t know, that you see me as a convenient way to warm up your bed, and to hell with what I need?”

  Vincent crossed his arms over his chest and paid the price in the form of a throbbing shoulder. At this rate, the stupid thing would never heal. Especially if any of the darts of hate shooting out of Kiki’s eyes hit their target. “Because that’s what I do, right?” Keeping his tone level took all of his focus. “Use women and toss them aside like picked-over chicken wings.”

  “I don’t make up the rumors.”

  He gritted his teeth. What exactly was he trying to do? He wasn’t used to wanting to take care of people other than his grandmother, and that was clearly a good thing. She didn’t want his help. As much as she claimed he discarded women, she’d tossed him aside in her mind before they’d even slept together. Hell, before they’d even shared more than a few conversations. His sentence had been handed down early on and she wouldn’t be granting him a stay of execution.

  Off with his head, the man-slut!

  “No, you just listen to them.” He slowly shook his head. “If that’s what I do, I sure as fuck chose wrong with you. I don’t need you giving me lip every time I try to—”

  “I’ll tell you what I don’t need—you telling me what to do or how to live my life. I’m sorry if it bothers you to be sleeping with an ex-gas station manager and current file clerk. I’m also sorry if I’m not as available as you’d prefer.” She glanced down at his groin. “Not that my availability could help you at this point.”

  From man-slut to sexually incapacitated in a heartbeat. “It’s my shoulder that’s hurt, not my cock and you damn well know it. Since you’re the one who got me shot, one might think you’d have a bit more sympathy.”

  “One might also think we’ve outlived our usefulness to each other on just about every level.” Her mouth tightened into an unwavering line. “Anytime you want, we can consider this over. Officially.”

  “You don’t want someone telling you what to do, fine.” A jolt of pure panic twisted his gut, but he kept his tone steady as he met the gray eyes spitting ice at him. “But what about someone caring about you? Is that on the forbidden list, too? Because someone forgot to clue me in.”

  She made a derisive noise in her throat, but some of what he was feeling must’ve appeared on his face because she didn’t say anything further. Then she did just as he’d expected and took off.

  Only after the door had shut behind her did he hear her hopping around in the outer hallway, ostensibly putting on her boots.

  He ground his teeth together and fought every impulse that instructed he chase after her and make her listen to reason. Even if he could get her to listen, he hated fucking scenes almost as much as he hated noisy family get-togethers. He’d be damned if they got into a screaming match over what should be obvious to anyone.

  Of course he cared about her. Of course he wanted the best for her. So how the hell did that make him wrong?

  Cripes, when had things gotten so out of hand between them? If this were like any of his other relationships—if he could even call them that—he would write Kiki off as too much trouble and be done with it.

  Vincent walked back to his bedroom and kicked the door shut, the vibration shooting painfully through his arm. Or maybe it was his chest that hurt now.

  She wasn’t only too much trouble. She was also funny and smart and kind and incredible in bed. And God help him, he hadn’t ranked her skills in the sack first.

  He sank onto the
edge of the mattress and glanced at the laptop on the nightstand. After he gave the keys an irritated tap to bring the machine out of sleep mode, the winking cursor caught his attention.

  Ten minutes later, he rose to pace the strip of rug between his bed and his desk, a huge grin splitting his face. There was one attribute he’d forgotten to ascribe to Kiki Wyatt.

  She was one hell of a writer.

  Sure, there were things they’d need to fix. She tended to tell more than show, and some of her narrative dragged. But considering she was untrained and unpracticed, he couldn’t deny she had a mother lode of talent. With a bit of revision, the sex scene she’d penned the night before would jump from sexy to scorching.

  He strode toward the bathroom. Regardless of their personal situation, he needed to focus on the main reason they were together. To work.

  Everything else was just temporary. Especially them.

  Kiki fumed. Who does he think he is?

  She didn’t need his self-righteous attitude spilling onto her choices. Nor did she have time to wonder what was going on in his twisted little brain.

  Was she just another chicken wing to him? How the hell was she supposed to know? It wasn’t as if he’d spilled his guts to her about his emotions, something she still wasn’t entirely sure he had. At least not toward women he was sleeping with. They’d been friends once. Maybe they could’ve even become very good friends, if they hadn’t gone and added sex to the mix. Now it was too late.

  She’d spent way too long living her life for other people. She was handling things the best way she knew how, and if that included interviewing for a position at her father’s law firm—there were no gimmes with the esteemed James T. Wyatt—then that was exactly what she was going to do.

  Kiki told herself that before, during, and after the brief interview at Wyatt, Reilly, Jenner and Associates, and throughout her lunch of lukewarm tomato soup and oyster crackers. All things considered, she was doing just fine, and this part-time job would tide her over until she found something better.