“What was that?”
“Nothing.”
The image twisted in her head, rolling and latching onto that night in the bar. It couldn’t be. “Were those... my panties?”
“No.”
The answer came too fast. Had too much of a defensive edge to it. Or she wanted it to mean more than it did. A playful streak, spurred by the evening, raced through her. She closed the distance between them, and snatched the whatever-it-was from his slacks.
Her stomach flipped, her heart clenched, and her lungs tightened all at once. It was an awkward sensation. “Oh my God, they are.” She should be offended, shouldn’t she? It was definitely creepy. But that had never been Jordan. “I always wondered what a guy does with one-night-stand panties. I didn’t think the answer was carry them in his pocket for years. Though, I’m grateful you washed them first.”
He didn’t move to take them back, but he also didn’t step away. “It’s not like that. Not exactly.”
“Do tell.”
“You’re not going to believe me.” He sounded resigned.
It nudged her sympathy. “Try me.”
“The morning after... you know, I had this souvenir in my pocket. I’m not an expert—no, really—but they look expensive. I couldn’t bring myself to throw them away. I didn’t know what I was supposed to do with them. They ended up in the laundry, and eventually stuffed into a corner and forgotten about. What was I going to do, give them back?”
It made too much sense. The decision to give her impulsive bathroom fuck her panties, a whim all its own, hadn’t been tied to any results in her head. It was sexy and playful and fun.
His answer didn’t explain one thing. “You have them with you now because...?”
He sighed and raked his fingers through his hair. Another gesture she hated adoring. The combination of frustration and mussed spikes was seductive. He shoved his hands in his pockets. “My girlfriend found them in the back of a drawer somewhere. I’d forgotten they were there until she presented me with them. At dinner. And very loudly accused me of cheating. Then stormed out on me.”
“At least she didn’t dump her wine on you.” Chloe tried to keep her tone light and playful.
“There is that.”
“I’m... sorry?” She should feel bad, but he didn’t look upset.
“You don’t sound it.”
She shrugged. “Neither do you. I can’t believe you kept them.”
“It was a good night.” His voice dropped an octave, and his gaze met hers. The tone in the room shifted, pressing in on her. Stealing her breath. “When I got the call tonight, I was sitting on a bench, freezing my ass off, staring at those happy couples, and realizing she and I were never one of them.”
“You were together for six months.” Chloe knew that didn’t mean anything, but words escaped her.
“Eh. Lesson learned. Since I’m already spilling my guts, mind if I take advantage of the opening in conversation?”
Her thoughts stalled, and no retort flew to her lips. “Uh?”
“That night in the bar was amazing. I meant it then, and I still do.”
Heat flooded her face. Only he made her blush this way. “I don’t want to hear this.”
“All right. Mushy confessions aside, the next Monday, I know sorry doesn’t change what happened, but I never should have let the conversation in the office go as far as it did. Whether it was about you or someone else. This job... I was no one when I was younger. The kid who either hid or got picked on. Here? I’m a minor deity. I got sucked into being a bro, and I’m sorry you paid the price.”
He’d apologized before, but something about this gripped her tighter. Nudged her harder. It felt sincerer.
She also understood exactly where he was coming from. Another thing they had in common was their awkward past. “It sucked at the time, but look what I became. I excelled because of that,” she said.
“You excelled because of who you are. You’re so fucking talented. You could go anywhere, and you stay here, with all the shit you put up with, and we don’t deserve you.”
Everything he said chipped further at the walls she’d built. The ice she encased herself in to keep from letting the whispers at work hurt. Time to put an end to that. “You’re right, I should get home. It’s late, and we’re done.”
“We’re not quite.” He grabbed her wrist.
A shock of heat raced through her, singeing her senses, and telling her the last thing she wanted was to pull away. “I still don’t want to hear this.”
“Two minutes.”
“Fine.” She didn’t sound or feel as disappointed with the concession as she expected. Her pulse stuttered in her ears. What did she expect him to say? She didn’t know. Snippets of hope refused to attach themselves to thought.
He cupped her cheek with his palm, forcing her gaze to his, and when he spoke, his voice was heavy and more serious than she’d ever heard. “The morning after we met, when everything was still fresh in my mind, and I had no idea who you were beyond the witty, sexy woman at the bar, I swore I fell for you.”
She sent her body a command to walk way. To stop him from finishing his thought. She didn’t listen to herself.
“Tonight”—he continued, unaware of her internal struggle—“sitting on that bench, staring at your panties of all things, I admitted that wasn’t true. But in the two years since, I’ve fallen harder than I thought possible.”
All the thoughts she couldn’t put words to coalesced at once and weighed on her brain. She wanted this. Wanted him. Parts of her life had been Hell since she took this job. Other bits were better than she could have hoped for. She loved her job. Didn’t want to surrender it for anything.
“Chloe?” His voice. Her name. That one sound. It was enough to shatter her grip on reason.
She jerked away from his touch, and put several inches between then. “You don’t get to do this. The last two years have been miserable with the rumors and the teasing and the whispers. That’s not on you. But I’m the office slut, and what you said that morning before I got there, it didn’t help. No one believes I earned this job, and I worked my ass off for it. Sorry doesn’t change that. Whether or not I feel the same doesn’t change anything either. They’re just starting to shut up.”
“I know you earned the job. And I mean this when I say it.”
“I don’t care.” Which was a lie. Something inside cared so much it made her chest ache. “We don’t know each other. We screwed once. We’ve played a little verbal tennis since then. And can you imagine how severe the backlash would be if we did hook up? Not for you. It’d be all high fives and fuck-yeah-bros. I wouldn’t get the same.”
She didn’t want to push him away. It was true, they still didn’t know each other. There was potential there, as was the desire to explore it. For what? A chance that probably won’t work out? Damn her logic. She only wanted this because she didn’t have it. “Are we done here?”
He shook his head and stepped back. “In so many ways.”
“See you on Tuesday.” She wouldn’t look back. She wouldn’t change her mind and tell him she wanted to try after all. This was the right decision. She forced once foot in front of the other until she reached her car, then pointed it toward home, and repeated the forced march into her apartment.
She stripped out of her dress. There wasn’t any reason to bother with the wine and ice cream. She just wanted to climb into bed and forget the night ever happened. Her panties tumbled to the floor, taunting her, and she grabbed them. She breathed in the familiar scent of Jordan’s fabric softener, mingled with the faintest hint of his cologne. They’d definitely been nestled near things he wore. She realized what she was doing. Did sniffing her own panties make her more or less of a pervert than someone else doing it?
She wasn’t even sure if she was grateful or disappointed tomorrow was an office holiday. On the one hand, it meant another day to collect her composure before she saw Jordan again. Then again, she needed to prove
to herself and him she meant what she said at the data center.
The morning after we met...I swore I fell for you. His voice echoed in her head as she drifted off to sleep. I’ve fallen harder than I thought possible. His words were still there when she woke up in the morning. A shower didn’t erase the repetition. Coffee didn’t chase the self-doubt away. She meant everything she said last night. But did the things she didn’t say matter more?
She needed to clear her thoughts. Go for a drive. Focus on things not-Jordan related. Except forty-five minutes later, after following a lazy circle around the valley, she realized she was turning into his condo complex.
She’d been there once, a year and a half ago, for a team function. The teasing had been bad enough that night that she’d always found an excuse not to go back when he hosted parties.
Right now, the bad memories were background noise to the chanting insistence that she needed to be here.
She knocked, quiet and hesitant, still unsure what she was doing. Seconds ticked away. It was too early for this. She should go home. Forget the whole thing. They’d had a late night.
The latch clicked, and her mouth went dry when he opened the door. “Chloe?”
God damn him for looking hot at eight in the morning. His hair was damp and mussed, as if he’d just gotten out of the shower. His T-shirt hugged every inch of his torso, the firm, solid muscle she had vivid memories of digging her fingers into, and his faded jeans hung low on his hips.
“Is everything all right? Did the servers crash again? I didn’t get a text.”
Crap, she was staring. She shook her head and thoughts rattled inside. “Nothing like that. I—It’s that—May I come in?”
“Always.” He stepped aside, and closed the door behind her. “I just made coffee. Can I get you some?”
That was what she needed. More anxiety juice. “Thanks, but no.” This was where her brain—insistent she drive here, pushing her to knock—should to fill her in with what to say next. The words didn’t manifest, regardless of how hard she struggled to grasp them, and silence stretched between them.
He nodded toward the couch. “Have a seat. If this is about last night, I—”
“It is.” She couldn’t let him finish his thought. Didn’t know if it would be worse if he apologized, or said he wasn’t going to. “I can’t stop thinking about it. I really never stop thinking about it. Seriously, do you have any idea how horrid it is when your mind never shuts up?” God, she was babbling.
“I have a little bit of an idea.”
What was she trying to say? “Fuck.”
“There’s no one here but us.” He grazed his thumb over her cheek, before settling his palm against her skin. “And I’m not judging.” He pressed his lips to hers, gentle, soft, and completely in control. When he pulled back, pale eyes raked over her face. “Though I am hoping a little. Or a lot.”
The simple gesture dragged a whimper from her chest, and slid a missing piece into the jumbled puzzle of her thoughts. How did he do that? Every time. “I don’t know if I’ve fallen for you. Maybe. Maybe not. Probably. We don’t know each other well enough for me to say. But... I want to find out.”
“Not that I’m complaining. The giddy boy in me is celebrating right about now, but what about what everyone else says? I know how hard this has been on you. That you weren’t exaggerating last night.”
“I overstated a little bit. I made my entire career here based around not caring what people think. I’m not going to let their opinions stop me now.”
This time when he kissed her, her face nestled between his palms, it was hard and hungry. Their mouths crushed together, his tongue wrestling with hers. An intensity that surged into her chest, and stole her breath, and made her head swim with need. For him. For this. For a chance they’d denied themselves for two years.
“You don’t have anywhere to be, do you?” His voice was heavy with a seductive tone that sent ripples of want rushing from her fingers to her toes and everywhere in between.
“Just here.”
“Good. Because I’m not sure I could let you leave. I still dream about how incredible you felt that night, wrapped around me.”
No one could make her blush the way he did. “I never said anything about sex.”
He drew his lips up the side of her neck, feather-light and in a lazy trail, before nipping her earlobe with his teeth. His hot breath on her skin drew her nipples to hard nubs, and made her ache between her thighs. She felt more than heard his words when he said, “My mistake. Do you want me to stop?”
“God, no. Take me to bed, or lose me forever.”
“Top Gun?”
“Mhm.” She really did adore him.
“That’s a shame.” He guided her toward the couch as he spoke. “I don’t think I can make it to the bedroom.”
“I think it’s more metaphorical.”
“I like it when you use big words. It’s sexy.” He slid his hands to her hips, dropped onto the sofa, and pulled her toward him, prompting her to straddle his legs.
This was what she enjoyed about his company. Regardless of how hard she’d tried to ignore the back and forth, the teasing, and the easy exchanges, they all turned her on as much as the way he stroked his thumbs along her stomach right now. She draped her arms over his shoulders and leaned in until her mouth hovered near his ear. “Fornication. Copulation. Carnal Knowledge.”
He nudged her back enough to pull her shirt over her head, then trailed his gaze along her chest. “No bra?”
His attention was electrifying, dancing along her skin like a million delicious sparks. “I had my mind on other things this morning. I’m surprised I remembered to put on pants.”
“I’m not complaining.” He cupped her breasts and dragged his thumbs across her nipples. The cool of his palms mingled with the feather-light tease, and spilled through her.
She arched her back to get closer, pressing against him, feeling him grow erect under her weight. When he tilted his head in, and flicked a tongue over one hardened nub, she bit the inside of her cheek.
“No one’s waiting outside.” His mouth vibrated against her skin. “No one cares if you get too loud. Fuck, I want to make you scream.”
The promise filled her with a shiver of anticipation, which was amplified by the increasing pressure as he fondled her. Pinching her nipples, rolling them between his fingers, sucking and nibbling on one before moving to the other.
She gyrated her hips in motion with his licks. There were too many clothes in the way. “I want more.” Was the best she could manage.
Without warning, he relocated his hands to her waist, twisted both him and her, and pinned her to the couch. “More is vague.” He knelt over her, fingers tracing lazy circles along her sides.
She didn’t have access to the part of her brain with movie one-liners, and the rest of her wit was whimpering in the corner at the lack of contact. She tugged the bottom of his shirt, and he stripped it off. So that was how he looked bare-chested. Memories built up by her fingertips hadn’t exaggerated. “That’s a good start,” she said.
She trailed her nails down his chest, past his waistband, and to the visible bulge in his jeans. She traced the outline of his shaft, loving his deep growls. He wrapped a hand around her wrist, and pinned her arm above her head.
He tilted his head in, and kissed along her collarbone. “The night we met, you smelled like cherries, and I thought—don’t even know why now—it was because of your drink. Except you always have that faint scent.” He dragged his tongue along her skin, down her breast, and over her nipple.
“It drives me nuts.” While he talked, he unbuttoned her jeans and slid down the zipper. He let go of her wrist, and yanked her pants down. Friction burned along her skin at the rough movement.
There was a moment of hesitation, and struggling when her shoes got in the way, but a little creative kicking and squirming, and seconds later, she lay naked underneath him.
The intensity in the way he
studied her was almost as enticing as his touch. He scooted down, and kissed next to her knee. “I’ve got to know...” his breath caressed her skin “...is that what you taste like?”
She squirmed as his mouth moved up the inside of her thigh, drawing closer to her core, then retreating down the other leg. On the return journey, he dragged his tongue along her slit. The new sensation spiked over her nerve endings, and she pressed closer.
Her movements seemed to spur him on. He licked harder, flicking her clit, tracing circles, carrying her to the edge. He drove his tongue inside her, lapping her walls. She tangled her fingers in his hair, other hand on the arm of the couch behind her, holding on for all she was worth.
When he sought out her swollen button with his finger, it was as if he’d flipped a switch. Climax surged and crashed over her, and she lifted her butt off the cushions to get closer.
She jerked away when his touch became too much, and pulled his face back up to hers. “Verdict?” she asked, breathless.
“Inconclusive. Going to have to run more tests in the future.” He kissed her, her juices still fresh on his lips.
She dove into it, her hand moving to his cock. Caressing, and stroking through denim.
He pulled back. “I have to get a condom. Two seconds.”
“Don’t.” She unsnapped his pants, yanked the sides apart, and grasped him, his skin almost burned her already warm palm, and he sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth. “I’m on birth control. Clean. You?”
“Same.” He laughed and raked his fingers through his hair. “Not on birth control, but you get it.”
She freed his cock, and traced her thumb over the head, drawing a damp trail of precum along his skin. “No condoms.”
He stood long enough to discard the rest of his clothing, then wedged her legs apart with his knee, and knelt on the cushions. He brushed his thumb over her cheek, gaze on her face.
“What?” she asked.
He shook his head. “I’m just lucky.” He glided the head of his cock along her slit, bumping her still tender sex, then dipping toward her opening. He pushed inside at an even pace, stretching her out.
Her Artist (Love Games, #2) Page 3
