He turned his head and captured my lips in a too-short, but oh-so-scorching kiss. “It’ll be my pleasure.”
He settled back against the chair and asked me about my morning. I told him of my preparations for his mother’s rounds of chemo.
He frowned. “I expected to pay your salary.”
“Nope. Neither of us wanted that.” I held up my hand. “She’s also housing and feeding me, Lennon.”
“I don’t know how she can afford to pay you, though.” He shook his head. “My mom always provided for us—always—but that didn’t mean she ever made a lot of money.”
“That’s between you and her. Please don’t put me in the middle.”
He nodded. “You’re right. Sorry.”
Our food arrived, and Lennon gave my hand on his thigh a pat before he reached for his napkin. I trailed my fingers across his leg, enjoying the intense flash of desire that slid through his eyes before I reached for my napkin as well.
“What else should I know?” Lennon asked.
“She’s correct that it’s better to have twenty-four-hour care, should she need it. Again, though, I’m not sure she will. The mass will be removed on Monday, and then we start a regimen of medication pretty quickly. It’s standard procedure so there isn’t a chance for a new mass to grow. I’ve already spoken to her doctors, and we have a plan in place if she reacts poorly to the treatment.” I picked up my fork but paused, meeting his gaze. “I can’t talk to you about her diagnosis or any of the details.”
He nodded. After finishing his bite, he said, “I know. I won’t put you in that position.”
We continued to chat as we ate. When we’d finished, I resisted the urge to order a decadent dessert because I knew the sugar crash would make me sleepy and possibly irritable.
Lennon placed his hand at the small of my back as he led me out of the restaurant. I heard people whisper about him and ask who I was, and my stomach fluttered. I wasn’t prepared for the scrutiny. But then he glanced down at me, and I realized Lennon was totally worth the slight discomfort that came with dating a well-known man.
“It’s the worst here in Houston,” he said as we reached the sidewalk. “And in Canada, because hockey is basically what they eat and breathe up there. We don’t ever have to go.”
“Well, there goes my plan for Whistler.”
“I’m sorry, Vivi. It won’t always be like this. Once I retire, people will forget me.” He opened the passenger door to his truck and stared at his shoes.
They were nice ones—stylish, with a strap across the top in a dark leather with a lighter sole. “I was teasing,” I said. I placed my hands on his chest and tilted my head back. A fine sheen of moisture bloomed across my skin, but I wasn’t sure if it was all from the humidity and heat. Desire pooled in my belly as I studied him.
He met my gaze, his still worried. “I don’t want to mess this up. You told me I have one chance.”
I shook my head. “Other people’s actions don’t reflect back on you, Lennon. And anyway, I enjoy spending time with you. I always have. It’s like…”I licked my lips as I struggled to find the right words. “There’s this invisible connection, but it’s more than that. As soon as I see you, my heart speeds up. I get giddy.”
He smiled, his beard shifting so I caught the glint of his white teeth. “And I want you close—as close as possible so I can touch you,” he told me. He leaned closer. “And kiss you.” He rubbed his beard along the sensitive column of my neck. I whimpered. “And soon, fuck you.”
He took my lips then, and all I could do was hold on as he devoured me—in the best possible way. My heart thrummed madly in my chest, and lust swirled through my veins, warm and heavy in my lower abdomen. I pressed my thighs together, seeking release from the pulsing ache, but none came.
Lennon lifted his head, his eyes gleaming with passion and mischief. “I’m going to make you come so hard, Vivian Lee.”
“You better.”
He nipped at my lower lip, then helped me into the cab of his truck. Good thing because my bones were mush.
Once he’d started the engine, he asked, “What are your thoughts on control?”
I clicked my seatbelt. “What?”
“In the bedroom. How do you feel about letting me be in charge?”
For a moment, my breath left me as I contemplated. Letting Lennon take control meant freedom. I could let go and trust him to catch and hold me. To make me feel good. “I’m not positive,” I said slowly. “Because I haven’t ever tried that. But I think I could really like letting you be in charge—just in the bedroom,” I added.
He reached over and gently tucked my hair behind my ear. “I want to manage your reactions and your orgasms. I have no desire to control your day-to-day life—unless we turn that into a game.” He got a glint in his eye.
“Is that why you didn’t push…”
