I sighed. “All right.”
I slipped my single glove on and pulled my hood over my hair, tightening the toggles.
“You look adorable,” he said, dropping a soft kiss on my lips. “And completely unrecognizable,” he added with a wink. He tugged my bare hand into his pocket.
I motioned to the blanket hanging over his arm. “Do you always keep that in your car?”
“Winter survival kit.”
“Of course. Very practical. Tell me, Mr. Grant, are you actually doing something spontaneous or did you plan this?”
“Me? Do something impulsive? Surely you jest.”
“True. What was I thinking? You’re so much like your father. Not an impulsive bone in your body.”
“Well, maybe one,” he said, laughing.
We walked on in silence for a couple of minutes. “It is a lovely night,” I admitted at last.
“These are the best snowfalls, when it’s not too cold and the snow sticks to the trees. It’s so peaceful. Perfect. I missed this when I was in the UK.”
I turned to smile at him, and he frowned. “What?”
“You’re quite the sensitive soul, aren’t you?” I asked.
“I’m not sure how to answer that. I wouldn’t want you to think I’m a pussy.”
“Why do guys make it seem like caring about things is a sign of weakness? So you appreciate nature. You love poetry. You care about your grandmother. You’re sensitive and you do thoughtful things—why does any of that have to be construed as you being a pussy? I don’t understand.”
“That’s because you’re not a guy with two merciless brothers.”
“What’s that got to do with how I feel about you, though?”
“Nothing, I guess. Just so long as you don’t rat me out,” he said sheepishly.
Men. Regardless of how sensitive Daniel seemed, at the end of the day, he was a man. A gorgeous and incredibly sexy man. And miracle of miracles, he was mine.
“Okay, here we are,” he said, approaching a park bench at the edge of the path. He brushed the snow off and then stretched the blanket out on the slats and sat down.
“You wanted to show me a bench?” I sat beside him.
“This isn’t any old bench. Look.” He took out his phone, leaned away from me, and shone the display at an engraved plaque fixed to the top slat.
“In loving memory of Bradford Daniel Wright. ‘Kites rise highest against the wind—not with it,’” I read.
Daniel smiled sadly as he pocketed his phone and slipped his arm around me.
“Your grandfather,” I said.
“He and Patty used to come to High Park every day to walk, and they’d always stop and sit here. After he passed away, Patty made a donation to the municipality, and they put this plaque on the bench. The words are John Neal’s. Gramps loved kite analogies. If Patty ever wants to feel close to my grandfather, this is where she comes.”
“Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For bringing me here. It means a lot that you would share this with me. This place is obviously close to your heart.”
He pushed my hood back gently.
“You know you’re making quite a home for yourself in my heart too, right?”
I swallowed thickly. Speechless again. I lowered my eyes, but he tilted my face up, kissing me tenderly, his tongue slipping warmly between my lips.
“Your nose is cold,” I said as he pulled away.
“Your tongue is hot,” he whispered.
I leaned into him, eager for more. He pressed his lips against mine, his hands caressing my face.
“I meant what I said a minute ago,” he said. “You’re all I think about. Sometimes I feel like I’ve known you forever, and other times you do or say something that reminds me how much I still have to learn. I wish we had more time together.”
“I know what you mean.” I snuggled into his neck as he held me close.
“‘I have no precious time at all to spend, nor services to do, till you require,’” he whispered. “‘Nor dare I chide the world-without-end hour whilst I, my sovereign, watch the clock for you.’”
“You wrote that sonnet out for me a few days before Mary’s memorial service,” I reminded him.
“It’s a favorite.”
“The sonnets aren’t my specialty, unfortunately.”
“You’d better brush up, Miss Price. I happen to know of an assignment that’ll require some attention to Master Shakespeare’s sonnets.”
“Jeez, here we go. On with the TA hat.” I sighed.
He laughed. “Oh, come on, I’ve avoided shop-talk all evening. I’ve been good, haven’t I?”
“I’d say you’ve been very good.” I raised an eyebrow.
“And you, my lovely, are incorrigible,” he said, kissing me with an intensity that made my heart gallop. “Stay with me tonight.”
I gaped at him, dumbfounded. “What did you say?”
“Stay with me. I want you to come home with me.”
My heart pounded harder. “Daniel, that’s not a good idea. You don’t know what you’re saying.”
“I know exactly what I’m saying,” he insisted, kissing my cheek. “I haven’t forgotten your conditions and our compromise. I’m just as determined to take things slowly as you are. Like you said on Friday, I want us to spend time getting to know each other. I don’t have some master plan to try to seduce you. Well, that’s not entirely true, but I promise not to put it into effect tonight.”
I rolled my eyes, and he grinned.
“I have a pull-out couch in my office. I’ll sleep there, and you can sleep in my bed. All this sneaking around is getting old. Wouldn’t it be nice to be together without looking over our shoulders?”
“You can’t be serious.”
“I’ve never been more serious.”
He kissed me again. I couldn’t focus, couldn’t possibly be expected to formulate rational thoughts. I closed my eyes as he slid his nose gently along my jaw and nuzzled my ear. “Please say yes.”
Oh God. Yes—yes to whatever you want! Anything!
“I can’t,” I said. “I have to work in the morning. And I have a huge PowerPoint presentation that I need to finish before Tuesday.”
“I’ll help you with your presentation,” he said. “You can use my laptop. You can be home in plenty of time to get to work. I have to meet my dad in the morning, anyway.” He kissed me again. “Say yes.”
I could feel my resolve wavering. I was going to argue that I didn’t even have access to the work I’d already done on my presentation, but I’d emailed the rough draft to my group members and could easily retrieve it from my outbox.
“But I don’t have any clothes, a toothbrush…” I didn’t sound quite as convincing as I meant to.
He looked at me earnestly.
“Now you’re being silly. We’ll swing by a store on the way home so you can grab a toothbrush, and you can wear some of my clothes—sweats or something.” He paused for a moment. “Are you making excuses?”
“Maybe.”
“Why?”
“I’m afraid it would be too easy to give in,” I confessed. “You don’t understand the effect you have on me.”
My mind raced as I thought through the possible scenarios if I were to spend the night at his condo. All of the ways that everything could go horribly wrong—or magnificently right, depending on how you looked at it.
“I promise this isn’t about me trying to push you to do anything. I want to spend time with you somewhere safe. And somewhere warm, damn it!”
He shivered and held me closer, as if doing so would eliminate the chill in the air. Somewhere safe. Somewhere warm. That did sound awfully appealing. And he was promising not to push me. He had no expectations.
“Okay,” I said quietly.
He tilted my face up. “Okay?”
“Yes.”
“Really?”
“You’d better stop asking, or I might change my mind,” I said
with a chuckle.
“All right, shutting up,” he said, standing and holding out his hand to help me up. He tugged my hood back over my head and tucked my hair into the sides. “Okay then. Let’s go home.”
Chapter 4
Temptation
Most dangerous
Is that temptation that doth goad us on
To sin in loving virtue…
(Measure for Measure, Act II, Scene 2)
I RODE THE ELEVATOR ALONE. Daniel had decided this was the discreet thing to do, heading up to the condo before me to await my arrival. The depraved part of my brain despised this prudent decision. There was something incredibly hot about a quick clutch and grope in an elevator. Thwarted again by good sense.
We’d swung by a pharmacy where Daniel had insisted I buy everything I would normally use at home, including whatever products made me smell “so fucking delicious.” He’d handed me some money, insisting that it was his treat. He smiled and winked at me when I climbed in the car with the bag full of toiletries, satisfied that I’d done as he’d asked.
Now I was at his condo, trepidation and excitement blending in the pit of my stomach. When the elevator announced its arrival on Daniel’s floor, I stepped out and stopped for a minute, resting my forehead against the wall and taking a deep breath. What the hell was I doing? Was I actually entertaining the idea of staying over? It wasn’t too late to bail. I could stay for an hour or two and then insist he take me home.
My waffling was cut short by the sound of a clicking latch down the hall. Daniel’s head popped out of a door about twenty feet away. He moved to stand in the doorway, one arm against the frame, his other hand seeking his pocket.
“What are you doing?” he asked, his voice echoing in the empty hallway.
I leaned against the wall. “Chickening out?”
He approached me cautiously and sighed, frowning as he twirled a lock of my hair around his finger. It wasn’t a frustrated or impatient sigh, but rather one that said, “Please don’t go.”
He relieved me of the plastic bag and took my hand in his. His eyes were locked on mine as if I was a shy deer he didn’t want to startle. My feet ignored the warning messages from my brain as he led me slowly through the door of his condo and into the entryway.
“Daniel, this is crazy.”
My heart hammered a crazy staccato agreement.
He closed the door without pulling his eyes from mine. “Yep. Completely insane.” His chest rose and fell rapidly. “Don’t leave?”
I shook my head, and he carefully unzipped my coat, slipping it down my arms and tossing it on a bench against the wall. I placed my hands on the nape of his neck, angling my face up to kiss him softly.
“I’m not going anywhere,” I whispered.
“Thank God.”
He gathered me close, and I yielded to the heat of his insistent kisses, quivering and desperate for more. He really was the most incredible kisser. I pressed my body against his, and he pulled me closer still. Finally he took a step backward, his eyes heavy with unconcealed longing.
“Holy fuck,” he breathed.
“No kidding.”
“I seriously need to get the hell out of these jeans. I’d like to be able to procreate one day.”
My eyes traveled down to his zipper. “There certainly doesn’t seem to be a lot of room for—movement—down there.”
“As I’ve said on a couple of occasions—”
“Yeah, yeah, I know. I’m sure John Holmes has nothing on you.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Wow, I didn’t know you were a big fan of seventies porn.”
“Are you sure? I thought I mentioned that when I introduced myself at the first tutorial,” I said.
He laughed and mimicked me. “‘Hi, I’m Aubrey Price, I live in rez at Vic and I’m a huge fan of John Holmes’ giant dong’? I think I’d remember that.” He gave my ass a pinch.
I swatted at his hand. “I see we have a lot of ground to cover. Clearly you don’t know me at all. I guess it’s a good thing I agreed to come over.”
“Apparently.” He grabbed my coat and hung it in the closet. “How about I show you around?” he said. “Then I have to get out of these fucking jeans.”
He retrieved the bag of toiletries and led me into an open-concept living room, dining room, and kitchen area. The stainless steel appliances and marble counter tops in the kitchen, the soft brown leather couch, the cherry wood dining set and the stereo with top of the line speakers—everything said, “I am Daniel Grant. Only the best will do.” What really drew my eye were the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves running the expanse of the far wall. He had quite the library for someone his age.
Daniel waved his free arm around. “Kitchen, obviously. Help yourself to whatever you want. Dining area—”
“Incredibly beautiful bookshelves,” I interjected. “You’ve read all those books, no doubt?”
“Yeah, they do sort of take over the room,” he said with a sheepish smile. “Books are my guilty pleasure.” He took my hand and showed me down a hallway, then knocked on a closed door. “Powder room.” He pushed open the door across from the bathroom and I poked my head inside. “This is my office. It’s more of a den, I suppose.”
He shrugged self-consciously, and I stepped into the room, casting my eyes over the built-in entertainment unit with more bookshelves, a big screen TV in the center, another oversized couch with a coffee table in front of it, and on the far side of the room, a large, uncluttered desk with a laptop and a few books neatly stacked on one side. An acoustic guitar was propped on a stand beside the couch.
“So, this is where the really important stuff happens,” I said, gesturing toward the desk.
“No, that would be in here.” He led me to the next door—his bedroom.
I laughed. “No, this is where the magic happens.”
“Will happen,” he said. “You’ll be happy to know nothing even remotely magical has happened in this room in the six weeks I’ve lived here.”
“I am happy to hear that.” I surveyed the room. The bed was neatly made and covered in a lovely chocolate brown and white duvet. “King size?”
“Yeah, I guess that seems self-indulgent too,” he said, ducking his head.
“And another TV?”
“Sometimes I fall asleep with it on at night. Makes the place seem less empty.”
My heart ached for him. I’d never lived by myself for any extended period of time. What would it be like, rattling around in a condo this size all alone? It was beautiful, though. I couldn’t help wondering if the interior decorating was Gwen’s handiwork. There was a touch of elegance, a softness to the design that, while not overtly feminine, still betrayed a woman’s involvement.
“Okay, I have to ditch this bag. I can’t wait to see what you’ve got in here. Feels like you bought a bowling ball. Washroom’s in here,” he said, leading me to the ensuite bathroom.
“Wow, this is beautiful.”
The clean lines and dark tiles of the oversized tub and glassed-in shower stall were masculine and tasteful. And everything was so clean. There’s no way Matt could keep a bathroom this spotless.
Daniel started pulling items out of the bag, examining them before lining everything up on the counter. He unscrewed the lid of the shampoo, smiling as he waved the bottle under his nose. “This is what you usually use, right?”
“Yep. Sweet pea and jasmine.”
“God, no wonder you smell so delicious. Do you seriously use all this stuff every day?”
I crossed my arms. “You know, you’re kind of blowing my feminine mystique out of the water by analyzing the shit out of everything.”
He chuckled. “You’re right, I’m sorry. This is a bit of an invasion of your privacy, isn’t it?”
“I’m only kidding,” I assured him. I was actually hoping he’d keep unpacking the bag because there was one particular item I’d bought as a joke. Unfortunately, I’d made him self-conscious and he’d stopped.
He opened a deep drawer under the vanity. “You can put everything in here,” he offered.
“Okay, I’ll hand stuff to you, and you can put it away,” I suggested, starting to hand him things. Then I reached into the bag and gave him the tube of K-Y Jelly.
He pulled his head back sharply, his brows furrowed. “What the fuck is this?”
“What does it look like?” I asked, trying to keep a straight face. He squinted, reading the product description on the back label.
“‘Apply to areas of body where sensational personal lubrication is needed.’ Is this for real?”
“Well, I didn’t buy it for tonight, but, you know, one day—”
Daniel backed me up to the counter and lifted me so I was sitting on the vanity. He stood between my legs.
“Excuse me, but what happened to typical English country weather? If you ever need to use this, I’ll eat my fucking hat.”
He tossed the tube on the counter and drew my hips forward, rubbing against me purposefully. I closed my eyes and breathed deeply as Daniel’s tongue parted my lips and darted playfully against mine. His teeth tugged on my lower lip, and then he gently sucked on my earlobe, his warm breath sending a delicious shiver down my spine.
I wrapped my legs around him, and his fingers sank into my hips. A series of images flickered through my mind: Daniel’s tongue running down across my breasts, pausing to flick over my nipples before traveling lower and finally coming to rest between my thighs where he would surely drive me to the brink of ecstasy—
He stepped away from me, resting his hands on my thighs, mighty pleased with himself. He’d made his point. Soundly.
“Well?” he asked, raising an inquisitive eyebrow.
I sighed and regained my composure, then admitted defeat. “Torrential rains. I guess you’re right.” I reached for the tube of K-Y, prepared to drop it in the garbage pail, but then another idea occurred to me. “Maybe you’d like to keep this for your own personal use? A little lube to go with the oil change? Self-employed people are often looking for business write-offs for income tax purposes. I did keep the receipt.” I smiled innocently.
“All right, move your cheeky ass, young lady.”
Better Deeds Than Words (The WORDS Series) Page 3
