by Zoey Parker
“Beautiful.” He touches his lips to one, the tip of his tongue flicking the sensitized bud. Luke chuckles when I arch in attempt to get his mouth closer and doing more of what he’s doing so damn well.
I hate that he wants to be a tease now.
I tell him so, cheeks warming at his raised brows and sultry grin.
He’s terribly handsome and awfully good at this. He has to know how he’s affecting me.
“You think I’m a tease?” Luke smirks, his dark blond lashes lowering as he watches his finger trace the outline of my areola. “That’s funny, because I’m thinking the same of you.” He taps my pert nipple, his tongue dashing out to suck in his bottom lip. He takes a noticeably long and loud inhale, his nostrils widening with the slow exhale.
And that’s when I realize how much this foreplay affects him too. Leaning back, I see a man ready to snap with the rubber-band tension keeping him from stripping me down and taking me on his desk like a sex-starved beast.
My face must reveal what I’m thinking because Luke lowers his mouth to my breast. He caves to the sparks of molten green desire around his dilated pupils and wraps his mouth around my nipple.
His other hand moving from my breast falls over the small of my back at my arching response to his touch. He’s sloppy, sucking and slurping as much of me as he can.
I squeal when he adds his teeth to the mix. He grazes me and then clamps his teeth around my nipple, gently tugging and releasing me with a loud, wet pop. It echoes in his office, it feels like, and I’m reminded for a second of my other co-workers outside.
When he moves to lavish the same attention to my other breast, my hand falls over his head, fingers relishing the downy dark blond locks. Gripping onto what I can of his short, soft hair, I release a staccato breath through my gritted teeth. I’m squirming on the desk, my free hand reaching up to cover my mouth and muffle the moan shuddering through.
“Shit,” Luke breaks away from my breast, pushes back from me, his hands falling on either side of my thighs on the desk. He pushes off, hands moving to the buckle of his belt. He gets to the unwinding the belt when his phone trills behind me, startling me at least a few inches up in the air off the desk. Both of us regard the flashing number.
I’m the office administrator, but I don’t take Luke’s calls. Instead, most calls I receive are about the dealership’s hours, general booking appointments or more specific ones with certain sales staff, and sometimes the occasional phone call from a family member of a sales rep.
Still, as if I planned to answer, he says, “I’ll get it.” Picking up the phone, he greets the caller politely enough. He hums at first to whatever he’s hearing, finally telling whoever it is, “I’ll be there soon. Don’t start without me.”
Hanging up, he looks at me, his belt hanging open, my breasts bare to his roaming gaze.
“Great timing.” His sarcasm is thick. Giving me a longing sweep, he sighs. “Make yourself decent, Lily. Our fun is over...for now.”
I shiver, my mouth drying under his heated stare. I miss it as soon as he lowers his head and fixes his belt. I dress silently and he leads me to his office door, his hand falling still over the handle. His feathery-light kiss on my cheek surprises me.
“Have dinner with me tonight?”
It’s a question. He’s letting me choose how I’ll spend my evening—with or without him.
That warms my heart, and I shyly nod.
His dashing smile is worth it. Opening the door, his hand falling to the small of my back, he leads me out to our audience. “We’ll have dinner at seven thirty. I’ll be by your place at six.”
Aware of the eyes watching us, I mutter, “Sure.”
While I walk away, I glance back and see Luke watching me—watching my ass, I believe. Then he says, loud enough in case no one else heard, “Six then. It’s a date.”
# # #
Luke left half an hour after our office rendezvous. On passing my desk, he brushed a kiss over my forehead and reminded me of our dinner plans yet again.
The sales team spent their day ogling me, but I found myself becoming more annoyed than embarrassed. Why is it such a shock to them that I might find pleasure in the company of a handsome man? Have I only ever been a coffee-making robot to them before?
At home, I dress with Kerry’s help. She’s stuck at home grading a stack of math tests, but she would kill me knowing I left her out of the loop on this one.
“Okay, I grabbed my popcorn.” She takes her seat back in front of her webcam, her face filling the screen of my computer. When I tell her she’s a bit too close, she backs up.
With my thumbs up clearing her, she launches back into her tirade from earlier. “I still can’t believe you’re going out on a date, and with Luke Hanley.” She practically squeals at the end, her lips spreading wide with a smile. “Luke Hanley. I should have known it.”
“Oh?” I challenge.
I’m trying the fifth outfit. The other four having been vetoed by at least one of us. I think this is the one. Nothing says sexy and classy like a simple black dress, plain and to the point.
“Yes! You’re always defending him whenever I say something about the dealership. Only last night you were chasing me off him for working you so late.” Kerry’s mentioning last night chases away the flutters I’ve been feeling in my stomach over going out with Luke.
I have to remember why Luke is doing this, why he’s giving me the time of day. He hasn’t said it straight-up, but this is part of some elaborate alibi. I keep my mouth shut and I get to be Luke’s girlfriend, his plus one.
He’s probably planning a whole string of dates like this one. Scratching off a checklist until he corners me with all the gifts he’s showered me with and then I’m stuck, stripped of my credibility. Who’s going to believe a scorned woman who's been sleeping with the man she’s accusing of being involved in a murder?
Both Kerry’s voice and my doorbell ground me in the present.
“I should get that,” I murmur. Leaving my laptop and Kerry’s concerned expression behind, I head out to answer the front door.
I check the peephole, a little taken aback by the Potentia police badge filling my line of vision and the deep voice begging my pardon.
Opening the door a smidge, I peek out at the handsome officer. He’s dressed in plain clothes and he introduces himself as Detective Art Dayton.
“Are you Miss Lily Erickson?”
“I am,” I say, opening the door a bit wider. He’s an officer and, just as with Luke, I don't want to get on this man’s bad side. I haven’t had a brush with an officer in Potentia yet.
“May I speak to you for a moment, Miss Erickson?”
“About?” I’m wary for obvious reasons. Luke and his thugs Russ and the other guy, come to mind. Then there’s the memory of the shadowy outline of a body in that trunk.
“About Hanley Auto, your workplace, Miss Erickson. I believe a crime took place there last night, and I have it on authority you might have information.”
Over the bang, bang of the ghost gun in my memory, I catch the end of Detective Dayton’s statement. I swallow hard, suddenly wishing Luke was here. Stepping back to make room in the doorway for the detective, I say, “Come in.”
Now I only hope I won’t regret my decision.
Chapter 7
Luke
I’m early for Lily.
She’s dressed, but a little surprised when I knock on the door at twenty minutes to six. She stares at me, blinking, mouth opening like she has something to say. Then she snaps it closed and looks me over.
I’ve changed my clothes.
I couldn’t meet up with her before showering off my afternoon activities. Grimacing at the memory of chasing down that two-bit motel manager, I clench my fists, my knuckles still smarting from beating answers out of the bastard. I left him in Russ’ and Keith’s care after that, hunting down my next victim.
That hunt led me to a strip joint in St. Louis. Someone had tipped off t
he club owner, so I found the trip mostly worthless except that I now temporarily owned a nudie bar. I’d love to see Lily’s expression after she heard that one, but the thought of mixing her innocence with my world churns my stomach.
No, I like the arrangement we have going. Keeping Lily as far from my world as possible, pretending we’re in love and preparing to spend a normal night in each other’s company.
Maybe later I’d take her to my place for a little more personal conversation. Our bodies sure had done a lot of talking last time.
That memory and her beautiful face staring up at me now make me smile.
“Are you going to let me in?” I tease. “Or is this as far as I get?”
Lily jumps at my questions, holding the door open and gesturing me through. She fumbles through an apology, her cheeks, throat and chest suffusing with her embarrassment. She’s radiant.
My gaze drags over her body.
Her plush curves fill out a strapless, uncomplicated black dress, the bottom of her flouncy skirt brushing above her knees. Her hair is down again, a clip dividing the top section from the bottom.
I see a necklace, the same silver heart-shaped pendant she wore earlier in the day when I had a front row seat to her bare tits. She’s wearing nude-colored stockings.
I see her toes curling at my head-to-feet survey. I follow her to the sofa in her living room.
She has a small place. Most of it, I realize, is within my sight from the center of the room. There’s her kitchen to my left and a small hall to the rooms to my right. Her flat-screen TV is a prize though.
Seeing where my attention has gone, Lily fetches the remote from the coffee table in front of me and hands it over. Then she grabs the gossip magazines spread out on the table and clutches them to her chest, mumbling, “I’ll be right back.”
I let her do her thing. I’m the one who’s early, so I guess I’ll have to be patient. Turning on the TV, I flip to the local news and then to the St. Louis news channel. It’s all vapid, so I find a sports channel I like and fall into a college basketball game.
“Local team?” Lily is back for a moment.
She’s wearing a flowery white sweater over her dress, the hem reaching her natural waistline. It’s parted open, and it sways with her quick movement behind the TV toward the direction of the kitchen.
She’s making a commotion in there, and then she returns, toting a perspiring glass for me.
“It’s strawberry and watermelon lemonade,” she says of the pink drink. Stepping back when I accept it from her, she waits on me like a proper, attentive hostess.
It’s certainly not my drink of choice—I’m more of a scotch kind of guy—but I take a sip anyway.
“But if you’d like something warm…?” Lily hugs her arms about her middle. She looks more troubled than she should, making me think this isn’t about the beverages she has on hand at all. “I have hot chocolate?”
Reaching out to rest the glass on the coffee table, I drag my hands over my knees and smile at her. “No, it’s fine.”
She nods, lingering to watch the game for a minute and then she excuses herself again.
My eyes track her naturally, gaze following her as she crosses the room to disappear down her short hall. I hear a door closing softly, and I should let my mind focus on the TV but I’m suddenly curious about my date.
I sensed her enthusiasm in my office when I asked her out. Most women are like that.
Only a lot of the ladies I’m with have agendas. Lily doesn’t.
She’s in this predicament, stuck on a date with me because she happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time, and now she’s helping me right it by playing along with this alibi.
I couldn’t cross my T’s and dot my I’s without her cooperation. Sure, I gave her a little wiggle room by asking her out instead of commanding that we be together, but I was being a gentleman. I think. For fuck’s sake, I haven’t been on a real date in two years, and even then I wouldn’t have been considered chivalrous.
Those women with agendas I roll with? Well, they aren’t the type who care much about being wined and dined. They like it better when I suck and fuck them.
Lily is a simpler girl, and classy for it.
Bonus, I enjoyed fucking her once and I’m already fantasizing about our next romp, yet I also want to make sure she knows I’m putting effort into this too.
But I can see what she sees—I’m the guy holding all the cards and she’s thinking she has no play. Not entirely true.
After all, she has me asking her on a fucking date.
I admit to myself that I’m curious. How does a girl like her see me? How is she taking this, and how far will she let me go?
The evening is early, and I have plenty of time to explore my way to the answers to those questions. I wait out the final fifteen minutes to our date with impatience. I bite my tongue to keep from ordering her to hurry up.
Lily pops out five minutes to six, our initial meeting time. “I’m sorry to keep you waiting,” she says quietly.
She has a clutch in her hands and her smile is now painted in a soft pink. Nervously, she nudges her chin at the television. “Did you want to finish the game?”
“Nope, I’m good.” I shoot off of the couch to punctuate a point—screw this, I’m done waiting.
Turning off the TV, I carry my half-full lemonade glass to her kitchen, barely taking in the space in my hurry to get back to Lily and get us on the road.
She slips on the black pumps from today. She doesn’t seem to have a large shoe collection or many coats in her closet. But I haven’t seen the dress Lily’s wearing, so it gets me wondering if it’s new. Hopefully she hasn’t gone out of her way for me. I’d take her in a paper bag, really. Naked would be even better.
Before my hard-on gets out of control, I lead her outside where Lily locks up her apartment and we head to the elevator.
Lily is silent until we’re in the elevator. I press for the ground floor when she speaks up.
“I never did ask, but why are we heading out so early?” She cranes her neck up at me. “Dinner was at seven thirty, right?”
Smoothing my hand down her back, I absorb her shudder and enjoy the play of desire warring with her curiosity, the mess of it flitting about her face. She’s a truly sensual little thing.
“It was going to be a surprise,” I drawl, “but we’re going to St. Louis for dinner tonight.”
“St. Louis?” Lily repeats, her head lowering at the opening elevator doors.
We walk out together, my hand at Lily’s back, and her heels galumphing over the tiles of the foyer and onto the carpet leading out through the front doors. There’s a lock protecting residents, but I managed to slip in earlier courtesy of another resident entering the building.
Of course it hardly mattered there being a lock if residents and their visitors let in anybody willy-nilly. It’s enough for me to wonder how safe the building is.
Lily draws me from my thoughts, her shivering alarming me.
“You’re cold,” I observe. Getting her bundled into my Lexus, I crank up the heat and fire up the seat warmers.
Lily springs up, her mouth forming a delicious circle. “That feels...nice.”
That draws a chuckle from me. My GPS is on from having used it to find Lily’s place, but I close it since now I know exactly where I’m headed. “Buckle up,” I tell her, changing gear and reversing the car out of the visitor’s parking.
I take the car zero to sixty pretty quickly, liking the smoothness this baby offers on the road. I invite Lily to play with the radio and choose her favorite station. She shies away from my offer and I’m a little irked.
Then she says, “I can get to know someone by their music choices.”
“Can you?” I glance her way, catching bits of her in the dark. It’s a little easier with the atmospheric, blue-white LED lights lining the cushions of our seats and the cup holder between us. “Fine, my music it is.”
I tap around on t
he screen fixed to my dash, finding my programmed playlists, meticulously organized by genre and alphabetized by artist. I find a favorite and watch for her reaction.
“You listen to country?” she asks, hand clapping out the beat to the song.
“I listen to everything, so long as I like it. My tastes are eclectic.” I grin at the sight of her smile.
The mood in the car is set, and it remains easygoing all the way into the city.
Chapter 8
