Chapter Sixteen
A couple of days after Liann showed up on set, Sawyer and Justine were working late. Justine stood and lifted her hands above her head, arching into the stretch like a cat. She’d been sitting in the floor hunched over a stack of papers. At some point, she kicked her shoes off, and now her toes peeked through the black stockings under her pants. Was it weird he found the view of her feet through the veil of black sexy? He scrubbed his face with his hands. Yeah, probably weird.
Before they’d spent those days together at Liann’s, he’d been content with his life. But now, content wasn’t enough.
She cocked her hip and tilted her head to look at him. “What are you thinking about?”
He shook his head. “Work.”
“You know, when you’re annoyed or concentrating or…” Her cheeks flushed. “Otherwise absorbed in something, you have this very distinct frown line.” She rubbed between her brows, above the bridge of her nose. “Right here. So, why don’t you spill it?”
What’s wrong? The more we don’t talk about it, the more I can’t stop thinking about being with you. But he couldn’t say that when she’d drawn a line in the sand. But her blush, he could work with that. It meant she still thought about otherwise engaging him, she still wanted him. He hadn’t yet worked his way up to hoping she cared for him.
Toying with a paper clip, he settled for saying, “I’m worried about Liann.”
“I’m sure she can take care of herself.” Her face hardened.
“What is that? You liked her, up until two days ago. What happened?”
“She spends every day with Travis, and believe me, she doesn’t seem to care for me anymore, either.”
“That tells me zero about why you went from her biggest advocate to disliking the sight of her. Hell, the mention of her.”
Justine sat back down on the floor, closing the discussion. Ignoring him, she picked up a sheet of paper and moved it to another pile.
He stood up and snatched his jacket off the back of the chair. “I’m going home. Come on.”
She quirked her lips. “Is my father paying you to babysit me now, too?”
“God, if you weren’t so funny, I’m not sure how I could make it through the day. Let’s go, so I can make sure you get home.”
“I just live—”
“I know where you just live. But it’s late.”
A scowl crossed her beautiful features. “I hate being bossed around.”
“That sucks for you, Justine.”
Throwing her hands up, she slipped her shoes on and then gestured to the door dramatically.
He followed her into the elevator, glancing at her as the door shut. She’d tied her hair in some funky knot in the back which was now slipping free. A big curl dangled in rebellion near her eye. Following his instinct, he reached out to tuck it behind her ear.
Eyes bright and wide, she watched him, quiet, and her lips parted. Finally, a clue she remembered his touch, that he affected her. It was the first time since their return that a crack shone through the hardened veneer, the stay-away-mask she’d been wearing. He slid his hand down from her hair to cup her cheek and stepped in to kiss her before he could question his sanity.
Soft and slow this time, it engulfed him. Her scent, her presence spread over him like slipping into a lake warmed by the sun. He explored her lips, trying to note every detail because this was the most amazing kiss of his life and he wanted to remember it.
Long before he was ready, he stepped back and scanned her face, still cupping her cheek. Did she feel anything, this woman who had confessed to loving him, had it touched her at all?
She exhaled with a whoosh. “I wish I could think of something witty to say here, but I’ve got nothing.”
“Stop doing that.” His voice sounded funny, even to him, like his ears were stuffed with cotton.
“Doing what?”
He lets his hand drop back to his side. “Stop acting like this is nothing.”
“You wanted nothing.”
“And you wanted what? To go to the prom together? You threw me out because you’re afraid your father won’t approve.”
She turned her face away, brushing the curl back again. “Stop minimizing my feelings and experiences.”
They didn’t speak again until they were in the parking garage, their breath pluming white. His legs were longer, yet he kept up with Justine, who seemed to be racing to the car. “Stop. Justine, stop.”
Blowing out a sound of imposition, she pulled up short and turned around. “What?”
“What do you want? Because the kiss, that wasn’t nothing for you, either. And you’re literally running away from it.”
“It’s cold. I’m trying to get out of the cold.”
“You’re scared. I get it.”
“Do you? Maybe I’m over it.” She turned away, arms crossed and foot tapping as she waited for him to unlock the car. “What difference does it make? I’m uncomplicating things for both of us. I’m being the grown up.”
“And you get to make that call?”
She climbed into the car seat, her tongue darting to the corner of her mouth. “So I don’t have any reason to be concerned, because we have a future. That’s what you’re saying?”
“Well, no, I’m not saying that, exactly. I’m not saying we do, or we don’t, I just—”
“Right, I’m the one who’s scared.” They rode in silence to her apartment. He parked the car, and she was already out before he could open her door for her.
She pushed through the glass doors. When he spoke up behind her, she turned her head with surprise.
“You’re scared that I’ll turn out to be spineless, like the guy your dad paid off. You’re not afraid at all, huh?” He followed her onto the elevator.
Why was he following her? He wanted to make sure she made it home, but she was here. What was he doing, harassing her?
At her door she stopped. She’d ignored him since he followed her into the building, hell since he’d started the car. “You can’t love me. You’re not capable of it, those were your words. I deserve better than that.”
“You do.”
“Shut up. Don’t try to analyze the baggage you’ve decided I’m carrying because it hurts your massive ego that I’m the one saying no. Your baggage is so massive you’d need a forklift to move it.”
“I don’t have baggage.”
“Everyone has baggage. Some of us talk about it, share it with people so they know ahead of time what they’re getting into, at least. You don’t get to use mine against me because I can talk about it. I don’t even know your real name.”
She unlocked her door and took a deep breath. “This will be over soon, one way or another. You’ll get your promotion, and we won’t have to work together. But until then, don’t come here, don’t touch me, and don’t freaking analyze me. And you know what? Don’t try to rescue me. I have enough men trying to control my life already.”
Sawyer stared at the door she slammed into his face, shocked at what had happened. He’d pushed her, because he thought he had her figured out. Now, he was unsure. And she’d declared herself off-limits.
He’d never been good at playing by anyone else’s rules, and that’s what she expected him to do. And, really, she was right. But that itch to do what he wanted, and to do it his way, drowned out common sense so loud that common sense pretty much cowered in a corner. He should leave her alone. That would make both their lives easier. He didn’t know that he could.
****
Justine sat in their office alone. A desk clock sitting beside her, all tick-tock judgmental, made the only sound. Her pen annoyed her whenever she attempted to scribble across the paper. Sawyer was avoiding her because she’d made a fool of herself, again, last night. Which, in all fairness to her, he should be used to at this point in their partnership.
She laid her head down on the desk. She’d pushed him away, so hard. He was right; she was scared. But if she admitted that, he’d have steamrolled right over her fears. The same way he’d slammed into that bathroom, knocked her off balance, and the next thing she knew, they were sleeping in the big bed at Liann’s together every night.
The door opened, and someone took the seat across from her. With a sigh, she lifted her head to find Leo staring at her, giving her a curious look. “It’s you,” she said.
She laid her head back down, hoping he’d get the hint and go find something else to do.
“Did someone die?”
“Just my pride.”
This time, the door flew open, and they both jumped in surprise. Liann slammed it shut behind her and advanced on Justine. “I want to talk to you.”
“Leo, can you excuse us?”
“No, you should stay.” Liann pointed at him. “She’s been playing fast and loose with our future. Did your father put you on this project with full knowledge that you’d crash and burn? Because he wants Travis to marry you? Are you purposely tanking the show I came out of retirement to do?”
“Probably, yes, and no.” Justine sat up straight, keenly aware that something had gone wrong. Travis had made his play. “Which part are you angry about, Liann? The show or Travis?”
Leo’s chair toppled backward when he sprang from it, and both of them turned to him in surprise. Leo never got excited. He could read the paper through an earthquake. “Wait, it’s true? This is a game? I quit my job to be part of a game?”
Justine held her hands out to him. “Wait, Leo. It’s not the way it sounds. I’m invested in this show being a success, I am. My father seems to believe I’ll quit. But I don’t intend to.”
“Please.” Liann rolled her eyes. “Are you telling us you don’t want to marry him?”
Justine glared right back. “I’m not having two conversations here, so let’s all focus, okay?” She took a deep breath. “Leo, you’re upset with me because I didn’t tell you everything when we signed you. But you’re provided for in that contract, if the show does fail, which it won’t.”
Leo snorted and crossed to look out the windows. “Apparently you don’t realize what a failed talk show can do to a guy’s career. I’ll be a running joke.”
“No offense, sweetie, but Liann will be the headline there. This isn’t a step down for you. Even worst-case, you’ll be making more money and getting more exposure.” She turned to meet Liann’s stare. “And you. It’s not like you were turning people away. This is exactly what we told you it is. You knew this was my first time behind the driver’s wheel, so I can’t fathom why you’re so upset. Except the real issue here is Travis.”
“What do you want, Justine? To string Sawyer along and then marry up after you’ve had some fun?”
Indignation at the accusation, the ignorance behind it and the implied jab at Sawyer, shot through Justine. “I tried to tell you this once, Liann. Travis is not what I consider ‘marrying up.’ He is a disgusting pig. Don’t you see that he told you all of this to manipulate you? To cause problems for the future of this show?”
“He was honest with me because he cares about me, which is more than I can say for you. You could’ve told me, Justine. You sure didn’t have any problem sharing before you and Sawyer started shacking up at my house. Why didn’t you?”
Justine sat back down at her desk and laid her hands out before her. “Because I was ashamed. I’m not proud of the fact that my father doesn’t want me here, and he expects me to quit…to let down not only the two of you, but every person who works with us. It’s a terrible manipulation, because Travis and my father can’t let go of the past. But I’m not the one who created the situation.”
“Aren’t you though? Aren’t you the one who has failed at everything you’ve ever tried just to take the reins when you have no idea what you’re doing? And by the way, you should stop blaming Travis because your father lives in the dark ages and wants to marry you off.”
“He’s not innocent in this, Liann. He’s not a good man, you have to believe me.”
“Why should I believe you? You didn’t lay out the ugly truth, not the way he did.”
Justine took a shaky breath. She wanted to tell Liann how Travis had manipulated her. But Liann wouldn’t believe her, and Leo stood by the window, listening to every word. And shame still filled her that she’d let Travis do that to her, she couldn’t bring herself to say the words. “Because I thought you were my friend.” The truth behind that statement, because she had believed it, put a bitter taste in her mouth.
“Friends don’t lie to each other.” Liann turned to walk out.
“I didn’t lie…” Her voice trailed off as a buzzing started in her head, and she couldn’t believe this woman had the audacity to accuse her of keeping secrets. “You screwed my father and broke up his marriage to my mother. You never saw need to share that. Sometimes, people keep secrets because it’s too humiliating to share them.”
“I’m not ashamed of what I did.” Liann whipped back around, put a hand on the desk to lean in closer, and gave her a serene smile.
“You should be.” Justine’s voice bounced off the walls of the office, too small to contain her rage.
Liann stormed out, leaving the door wide open.
At least she didn’t slam it. Again. Justine put her head back down on her desk. She didn’t know if she could pull this off, not anymore. Travis was a lot smarter, and viler, than she’d given him credit for. He’d actually convinced Liann of his crazy conspiracy.
Leo spoke up from across the room, voice measured and controlled. “I knew you had a crush on Sawyer. Hell, he obviously returns the feeling. But an affair? What happens when he dumps you?”
“We’re not having an affair. We just…we slept together. There’s nothing more to it. And not because he ‘dumped’ me. What the hell?”
“Do you have anything to add to this disaster, Sawyer, or does that pretty much cover it?”
Justine looked up in confusion, and Sawyer stood in the doorway. Pressing her fingers to her temples, she struggled to fathom the depths of suckiness this had plummeted to.
“She said it was nothing. Drop it.” Sawyer offered them only a steely glare.
Leo headed for the door, pausing when Sawyer grabbed his arm. Leo glared at him, then looked down at his hand meaningfully. But Sawyer didn’t let go. “Don’t repeat any of this. You don’t want me to find out you’re slamming Justine in the press.”
“Don’t worry. I’m not big enough for anyone to care what I have to say, anyway.” Justine winced. Leo jerked his arm away and stormed out.
She threw her head back and exhaled, trying to relax her muscles, tensed up for a fight. “I can’t believe that just happened.”
Sawyer shut the door behind him, leaning against it. “What the hell did happen? Liann passed me, cussing like some hillbilly sailor, and Leo, the most laid back guy I’ve ever met, hates you. What did you do?”
“Oh, just being me. This is what happens to people when they’ve been around me for any length of time.”
“I must be immune.”
She rolled her eyes. “You’re not immune, you idiot. I ruined your show, and if my father finds out we slept together, he’ll fire you. And considering Liann hates us, the odds of that happening are growing by the second.”
“You. She doesn’t hate me.” He pulled the door open. “I’ll go talk to her.”
She waved a hand at him and laid her head back down, a headache pulsing behind her eyes like a strobe. “Whatever.”
Go home, climb under the covers. That’s what she wanted to do. How much good was she going to be here, today? Leo was disgusted by her, Liann hated her guts, and Sawyer, maybe her only ally, she’d told him to stay away from her. Travis was so much better at this game than she would ever be.
Thea spoke up from the open door. “Sweetpea? Are you okay?”
Justine lifted her head, her eyes swimming at that sympathetic voice, and motioned for Thea to shut the door.
Thea sat down on the couch and waited for Justine to join her, then slipped an arm around her shoulder. “What happened?”
“I happened. I am so screwed, Mom.”
“Justine, don’t be vulgar.”
Justine hugged her mother, realizing that she’d even managed to mess up her mother’s life. Didn’t Thea have a right to know why, after all this time, Daniel had thrown them out?
“Tell me something distracting, Mom.”
“My friend Barbara called last week. Her mother-in-law was flying in from Florida and last time she was in she told Barbara she looked old enough to be her contemporary.” Justine settled close to listen, leaning her head on her mother’s petite shoulder. “So, I called my stylist, and he dyed and cut Barbara’s hair, so she looked ten years younger. Then I took her to see this woman I met here at the studio when I was doing your office, who does make up, and she looked ten years younger than her husband. We finished up by going for retail therapy and spending almost seven thousand dollars on clothes. But Barbara was happy.”
Justine chuckled through the tears. “Because she’s hot now.”
“And I was happy because it was all the divine pleasure of shopping without paying the bill. Barbara even bought me a new pair of Louboutins because she was so grateful. And I let her because I worked my ass off setting all that up. And holding her hand in the store when she wanted to buy a Chanel suit. I said, ‘Barbara, Chanel is classic. It’s gorgeous, but it doesn’t scream you’d be lucky to see me naked.’”
“Mom, don’t be vulgar.”
“Sometimes, it’s a necessary evil, sweetpea.”
Justine sat up straight, extricating herself from her mother’s embrace. “Mom, that’s what you should do.”
“Be vulgar?” Her mother laughed.
“Help people like Barbara and Monique. You’ve got the connections, you know clothes.”
“For a vocation? Nobody would pay for that.”
“Barbara did. How much are those Louboutins worth?”
“Well…” Thea tilted her head and considered. “How would I do something like that?”
“You’ve been a walking advertisement for yourself for thirty years. Market yourself. Go ahead and exploit you. And really, what’s the overhead? Install a business line at home until it picks up. Print some business cards, give them to your friends, and put them places the stylishly challenged go. Target people who don’t have time to shop…”
She stood up and walked around the desk. “Parks, places moms take their kids, and spas, where people who need pampering go. You could do this. You could support yourself. You’ve got to figure something out, anyway. Why not use your God-given talent to accessorize?”
Picking up speed, she grabbed a legal pad and started scribbling. “You could charge, say, twenty percent of their total for the day. And you could make different packages, for people like Barbara who want the best, and people on a budget…consignment shops!” She snapped her fingers. “You could do a weekly bit on the show! Pick an audience member, do a makeover, and bring them back the next day. God, the business you’d pull down.”
Thea looked her over, eyes wide. “I could do this. I wouldn’t need any of your father’s money because I could support myself. And shop. Every day.”
“You could do this.”
Thea grabbed her purse and took off, spinning around halfway across the room. “Are you all right? You were upset, do you need me to stay?”
Justine waved her on. “No, go. I’ve got this.”
When her mother shut the door behind her, Justine sat back down at her desk and hit the page button. “Veronica, unless there are flames or spurts of blood, don’t let anyone else come in here, okay?”
“Got it. You need anything?”
“No, thanks.” Justine laid her head back down on the desk, closed her eyes, and tried to forget.
****
Sawyer tried to focus on the game in front of him, annoyed with himself. Someone had just scored, and he wasn’t even sure which team. He’d spent the better part of two days trying to plead with Liann not to blow the lid off his thing with Justine. Travis had fed her so much bullshit; it was like trying to talk to someone who’d been sucked into a cult.
Still, he’d been right when he assumed Justine was the target of Travis’s smear campaign. Didn’t help that, from his understanding, Liann had broken up Justine’s parents’ marriage, and Justine basically called Liann a slut. Or so Liann said. And he intended to slam Justine for not sharing that nugget. Out of respect for him, the star had said, compassion for him after the way Justine had toyed with him, she’d keep quiet about what had happened at her house.
Justine made herself scarce for the rest of the week. He had a strong suspicion she’d taken up in the basement office again, just to keep from pissing Liann and Leo off all over again. He’d make sure she came back upstairs Monday. Laying low was one thing, hiding out was something else.
He turned his TV off and flipped over on his couch. Game was boring. Couch was lumpy. Nothing suited him anymore. His house was too quiet.
He snatched his keys and stomped out to the garage. He’d drive around, clear his head. Turning with no direction, he zipped out onto the street and took a right and two lefts, heading into the city without much thought. Habit, he guessed.
He sucked at rules. His mother would beat him with a wooden spoon when he disobeyed; little things, like being too loud when she was hung over in their one room apartment. And as bad as he hated that damn spoon, sometimes, when he had been hungry and some elemental part of him blamed her, knew she was supposed to take care of him, though she never had, he’d be loud anyway. Crash his one toy, a Hot Wheels knockoff, against the wall over and over.
He knew what he wanted, his gut told him how things should be, and that’s what he did. And here he was, twisting himself into a pretzel trying to follow the rules of some pretty rich girl. He hated rules.
He stopped at a light and gazed out his window. The last golden glow of sunlight bled away. It’d be dark soon. Down the street, an old man in a bright, yellow baseball cap sold flowers from a cart. He frowned at the honks behind him and whipped the car around, pulling in front of the flower vendor and parking illegally.
The flowers formed a bright array of colors and shapes. Pink roses, Justine hated those. Of course, she was more than a pretty, rich girl. If she weren’t, they wouldn’t need rules. “Excuse me? Do you have dahlias? Red ones?”
Thirty minutes later he knocked on her door. Was he surprised to find himself down the street from her apartment? Not really. He guessed from the time he’d grabbed those keys, he’d been planning to crash the toy car into her wall.
She opened the door, wearing comfy pants and a t-shirt that left a hint of her stomach showing. “Hi.” She stood a little behind the front door, blocking the apartment. “What are you doing here?”
“Here.” He shoved the flowers at her, red dahlias in a green plastic pot. She let go of the door to take them, and he brushed past her, into the apartment. “I was in the neighborhood.”
She stared down at the pot of flowers in her hands, puzzled. “Why?”
“They didn’t have dahlias in vases. I had to go to a grocery store to find them in potted plants. They reminded me of you.”
She glanced up at him from the flowers. “You were in my neighborhood for flowers?”
“No. What are you wearing? Are those sweatpants?”
Still looking like she’d been given a pop quiz on the history of nuclear arms in old Russia, she ran a hand through her hair. “They’re yoga pants. Why?”
“Hell, they could be hot pants for all I know.” As quick as he put them there, he took the flowers out of her hands and sat the pot in the windowsill with the other plants vining down the wall there. “This is a great apartment. I like the feel of it. I’ve been thinking about having someone do my house.”
She glanced back at the open doorway and swung the door shut. “Why don’t you come in, Sawyer?”
The TV flickered with an old black and white movie. No less than five books lay stacked beside of the small set. “What are you watching?”
She glanced at the TV and back at him. “Old movies. Why are you here?”
Determined to get under her skin, he sat down on the couch and put his feet up on the table. Her eyebrows arched and she blinked at him, speechless. “You like old movies, huh? How come?” he asked.
She walked around the couch to gaze at him, arms crossed tightly, which pulled her shirt up another half inch. “Because you always know what to expect. You always get a happy ending.”
“Yeah, that’s boring. You know what I like?”
With a shrug, she seemed to be working her way from confused to pissed.
“Action movies. Exciting. Unpredictable. Fate of the world hanging in the balance. Big stakes, you know?”
“Sawyer, why are you in my apartment?”
He smiled up at her. “Come here.”
She stepped closer, knocked his feet off her table, and sat down there. “Well?”
“I wanted to give you fair warning: I’m not playing by your rules anymore.”
She shook her head in annoyance. “What does that mean?”
Slowly, he leaned forward and took her face in his hands. She tensed up at his touch but didn’t pull away. He brushed her lips with his own. Dipping her head back, he toyed with her lips with his teeth and tongue.
Then he stood up and headed for the door.
Justine, who’d never uncrossed her arms, rose from the table. “What’re you doing?”
“I’m going to have a drink, I think. See you Monday.”
“You can’t do that.”
He tilted his head like he was thinking it over. “I’m well past the legal age.”
“No.” She ambled toward him, around the couch. “You can’t come in here and decide to arbitrarily change all the rules—”
“Your damned rules, not mine.”
“And kiss me and leave.”
“Yeah, I can. That’s the whole point.”
Her slow trek across the tiny apartment ended when she reached him. “This isn’t a game.”
“I’m not playing.”
She glared at him, her breath coming faster and more uneven, and it wasn’t until she plopped down on the floor and put her head in her hands that he realized something was wrong with her. “Justine?” he muttered. He cleared his throat and spoke louder. “Justine, are you okay?”
Her throat clicked as she took another gulp of oxygen. “I can’t breathe.”
“No, you’re breathing. A lot.”
She sucked in air. “I’m hyper”—she gasped again—“ventilating.”
“Shit. Why? What do you need?” He brushed past her on the floor and took in her kitchen. “Water? Will water help?” He glanced at her over his shoulder and shook his head, annoyed. “Yeah, because water aids in the breathing process.”
Instead, he went back. He knelt down in front of her and took her face in his hands, as he had minutes ago, until she lifted her face to him. “Listen, I don’t know what you need, but you have to be calm so you can tell me.”
She panted in response and then cupped her hands in front of her face.
“What are you doing? Does that help?”
She nodded.
“Good. Okay, good. Slow down, all right? Breathe slow, like me. That’s it, princess.”
Her nostrils flared and she lowered her hands into her lap. She swiped a hand across her nose and mumbled, “Go.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I know. I just…” She closed her eyes, color rising in her cheeks. “Need to be by myself now.”
“In a minute.” He went back to the kitchen and put on a pot of coffee for her, because coffee was her go-to when she got stressed.
She got up from the floor and went in a door near the bar dividing the kitchen from the rest of the room and water splashed in the next room. He poured her coffee, adding a little cream from the fridge, and waited for her to come out. When she did he handed it to her, took her hand, and led her back to the couch. “Let’s try this again.”
“Oh God, let’s not.”
“If I could do anything to take back upsetting you, I’d do it. I didn’t think. I do that. It’s one of the ways I suck. I’m sorry.”
“I don’t want to talk about it. I appreciate the apology, but I had a panic attack. Right there, in the floor, in front of you, and I can’t describe how humiliating that is, so I’d like to get a jump start on pretending that didn’t happen and ignoring pretty much the whole day.”
“Who are you? When did you turn into the Queen of Repression?”
She quirked an eyebrow and he said, “That’s right, I remember some of the buzz words from therapy. Big deal. You can’t pretend nothing happened.”
“I so can.”
“I won’t let you.”
“Why? Tell me why not.”
“I can’t do it anymore. Naked time?” Sawyer took her hand until she looked at him. “I feel alive when I’m with you, and I don’t want to pretend it isn’t real.”
She frowned into her coffee.
“Okay,” he mumbled. He started to go but paused at the door. “Take care of yourself, princess.”
“Sawyer, wait.”
Please let that have been enough, because he’d been stripped bare. He made his way back. “Yeah?”
“Did you mean it? I make you feel alive?” She rubbed at the back of her neck, ducking eye contact.
“Yes.” He slid his thumb over her bottom lip, warm and moist. “There’s more.”
“Tell me. Please.”
“I miss you more than I thought I could ever miss anyone. Too much.”
She blinked, eyes bright and filled with plump tears. “Exactly enough.”
“Can I try again?”
At first, she shook her head, but then she stopped, a furrow between her brows. “Yes,” she whispered.
With that one word, he pulled her close so their bodies sent sparks of connection everywhere they touched. And he did what he couldn’t stop thinking about, he claimed her lips in a devastating kiss.
****
Justine shook, overwhelmed by Sawyer’s admission and his mind-numbing kiss. She couldn’t think. God, she didn’t want to.
All she knew was this moment. She had fears, real ones grounded in reality. They didn’t seem so real right now, not with that possessive look on his face.
With that fleeting bit of logic, she did the only thing she could. She ran her tongue over his throat and nuzzled the place where it turned taut over his collarbone. There wasn’t one damn thing about this man that didn’t drive her crazy. He growled low, a small sound that vibrated against her lips.
“Mmm.” The moan escaped her before she could even try to stop it. Then, she tried to speak, even as she stripped his shirt off of him. “I…” God, she loved him. No way was she ready to be that vulnerable. Not when he could look at her and see she meant it. Not yet. “I want you. Now, right here.”
“Nope.”
“No?” She asked, pulling back some to look at him.
“Not yet. Maybe, over there.” He looked over his shoulder at the rug. “Maybe we’ll even make it to the bed. But, not, I’m thinking, so quick.”
“What’d you have in mind?” Both arousal and anxiety fought in equal parts for control.
He spun her and walked forward. She had no choice but to stumble back until they crashed into the wall. As he circled her wrists with one hand and lifted them above her head, a bar stool teetered beside him, then thumped to the hardwood floor.
Taking his time, he nipped and toyed with her collarbone until she moaned his name. “That’s one of my favorite sounds.” He tugged at her yoga pants until they fell to her ankles. Then he slid a finger between her folds, until she panted and moaned more desperately than before. “That. That’s the only sound I like better.”
His breath tickled her ear, as he alternated between claiming her mouth and edging her closer to orgasm, while he described how much he wanted her.
Without warning, it tore through her, and she cried out. She didn’t have any concept of how long she stood, pressed against the wall, as the shudders racked her body. When he let go of her hands, she started to slide down the wall with rubbery legs. “I think you broke me,” she joked. Her voice came out hoarse. For a moment, she wondered what this meant, what an ‘us’ would look like.
She didn’t have time to chase that idea because he gathered her in his arms and carried her to the couch. “I’m not going anywhere,” he told her. “You get that, right?”
“I don’t want to talk about this.”
“We did that already. I’m not some kid looking to cash you in for a better life. I’m not going anywhere.”
“God, stop.” As a distraction, she pulled a colorful afghan around her, a gift from Helena downstairs, who would wholeheartedly endorse its use after sex. Justine lacked the courage to tell him how deeply and fervently she wanted to believe him. She wasn’t there, not yet. But, she believed she could get there someday, maybe.
“Listen, you don’t have to talk yet, if you’re not ready. I need you to know, you’re not kicking me out in the morning with some bullshit excuse.
“I love you.” Leveling her gaze on him, she made the choice to be honest. If he were going to run, now would be better than later. “That part wasn’t bullshit. Are you staying or going?”
“Staying.”
“Good.” She stood and held out a hand. “I’ve got the biggest, steamiest shower, and I want to taste you.”
He followed, a smile spreading over his face.