We spill outside, the night cool and buzzing. The driver flicks his cigarette away and opens the door.
I help her in, then slide in after her.
Still riding the high, I blurt, “Come back to my place.” Because fuck it. Why not?
My kids are good. I crushed the auction. And ending the night with this woman feels like an Olympic-level bad decision.
She worries her bottom lip. A spot I’d very much like to taste again. “I’m not in New York for long,” she admits.
Somehow, I knew that. I’m not sure how, but I did. I nod in understanding, dragging her finger across my lips and kissing it. “That’s too bad.”
“I’m supposed to be staying with a friend.” Her fingers drift into my hair, tracing slow, lazy circles that make my brain briefly shut down.
Mmm. That feels good.
“I mean, I could let him know I can’t make it tonight,” she adds, clearly weighing her options. “But with no notice? That would be rude.”
Him?
She’s staying with a guy? Well, I hate that. “A friend?” I ask. “Or a friend?”
She blinks. “Huh?”
“With benefits.”
She laughs softly, shaking her head as her fingers keep doing dangerous things. “A friend-friend. Family friend.”
Somehow, that answer doesn’t bother me nearly as much as it should.
Good. Not her fuck-buddy, then.
I nip her ear. “Then I guess we should say goodbye.”
She sighs heavily. “Goodbye, Lumberjack.”
I sit up and straighten my tie.
Just like that, it’s over. Done. Finished.
Then she leans into me, eyes dark, playfully tugging my tie. “Where is your place?”
I look up at the driver.
“Seven Forty Park Avenue.”
CHAPTER 20
Ava
My back hits the wall. My backpack drops. His fingers skim my sides, my waist, and the curve of my hips, stealing my breath.
“Where the fuck is the zipper?” he mutters, hands patting me down like he’s searching me for weapons.
My pulse hammers out of control. “Tear it,” I gasp, dizzy with lust.
He stills.
His head lifts from my breasts, and those piercing blue eyes gape at me like I’m missing my straightjacket.
