“That night on the L,” he repeated, “you looked ready to pull every rivet and bolt out of the train car with your teeth.”
She lowered her camera to study his expression without any equipment in the way.
His blue eyes held her in place. “You were all I could see. The only thing.”
The strength drained from her arms as she absorbed his meaning. He was telling her that he’d seenherthat night, not Pam Ryan’s underachieving daughter or Finn’s funny, disposable roommate.Her.
She carefully set the camera on the counter, avoiding the stacks of tempting desserts piled all around. Right now the biggest temptation in the room was the man who’d made them with his big, capable hands.
Not sure what she was expecting to happen, she walked toward him, her gaze locked on his, and when she was standing a hairbreadth from his chest, she reached up to run the pads of her fingers gently along his jaw. “What if—?” She swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry. “Turn your head this way.”
His eyes never leaving hers, he allowed her to shift the angle of his jaw a fraction, toward the window. But instead of fetching her camera, she lingered over the scratch of his stubble against her skin and his hot breath as he exhaled once, hard.
“A-and I’d like…” Earlier, her greedy little eyes had followed every economical movement as he’d bundled his lion’s mane into a bun and, after not finding an elastic, impatiently secured it with a pencil he grabbed from the table. She was dying to reach up now and pluck it out, but she was afraid freeing his hair might break the spell. She was close enough to feel his chest rise and fall as he breathed, and her eyes fluttered shut at the warm vanilla smell of his skin. The buzzing was back, although this time it wasn’t in her brain. It was in her chest, the tips of her breasts, between her thighs.Thisbuzzing was going to make her do something stupid, but a very different kind of stupid than picking a fight on a train or counting on her mother to come through for her.
His sharp inhale made her eyes spring open, and she found his burning gaze fixed on her mouth. His lips parted, and she waited for him to say something, to tell her to quit pawing him or to go pick up her camera, but this was Erik. He never used words when he could communicate in other ways, and right now the heat in his eyes told her not to stop touching him.
So she moved her hands up to brush her thumbs over the crests of his cheeks and pulled him downward, closer to her, until those blue eyes filled her vision. His mouth hovered over hers, his breath a whisper across her lips, and oh God, then she was kissing him. He was so tall that he had to duck his head, and she took advantage of his position to step closer and press herself against him. Every part of him was strong: his hands, his shoulders, his thigh when she twined her leg around his. She wanted to climb him like an oak, to find shelter in the branches of his arms, to use him to shut out the realities of her life for a while.
As if he’d read her thoughts, he wrapped his hands around her waist and lifted her up without breaking their kiss so she was closer to all the parts of him she wanted to be closer to.
“You’re the only thing I can see.” He pulled away to rasp his confession in her ear. “Ever since that first night on the train.”
She shivered and twined her fingers behind his neck, chasing his tongue with her own while he pulled her down to grind against him.
She’d die if he kept kissing her like this.
Then again, she might die if he didn’t keep kissing her like this forever.
The urge for more overwhelmed any other concerns. She took the hand that was gripping her hip and slid it up and over her rib cage. She felt the strength in his arm, pulsing under his skin, and knew he was allowing her to guide him. She reveled in it, the power he gave over to her, the sheer width of his wrist as her fingers strained to circle it. She dragged his hand closer and closer to where she needed it, until it brushed the underside of her breast. He shuddered, and she pressed against him harder, and then—
His door buzzer screamed through the apartment.
They broke apart, both breathing hard, and he dropped his hand.
“Ignore it,” she whispered, seeking his lips again.
Before he could respond, the buzzer sounded again, this time followed by a voice on the crackly intercom.
“Erik? It’s Gina. Are you home?”
“Fuck,” he breathed, dropping his head against the wall. At the clear shift in his mood, she pushed herself away and slid down his body. When she stepped back, her heart dropped. He’d just had his hands all over her and his tongue in her mouth, but his face was as impassive as ever. How did none of that have any effect on him?
Well. Notallof him was unaffected. Her eyes swung to the front of his jeans, and she forced herself to look away as words like “massive” and “girthy” spun through her fevered brain.
“Who’s Gina?”
Her hushed question was uncharacteristically meek, and he closed his eyes, the lines bracketing his mouth making him look ten years older.
“My fiancée.”
Fifteen
“Yourwhat?”
She recoiled as if he’d slapped her, and part of him felt like he actually had. He willed his dick to calm the fuck down so he could think.Goddammit. Two hastily spoken words could’ve just fucked up everything.
“No, I didn’t mean… It’s not as bad as it sounds.”
