Chapter 14
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
“Am I partially blinded by David’s street, or are there really no lights on in this area?” Andie checked out the houses on both sides of the car, finding one dark abode after the other. The night sky blended into the buildings and trees. No Christmas lights, no lights spilling out from windows, only the headlights and faint glow of the moon.
Leo pointed ahead. “Considering that traffic light is out, I don’t think it’s just the effects of David’s street.”
Andie focused on the hanging traffic light, swaying in the wind, illuminated only by headlights bouncing off the metal. “I guess the high wind warning wasn’t kidding.” The headlights picked up some fallen branches.
“Hopefully it’s localized and not widespread.”
“One can only hope. I think David will cry if the power goes out.”
Leo chuckled, she checked on his profile, illuminated by the dash. “You catch on quickly. He’ll cry more about any damage to his inflatables than about a random power outage, assuming that it doesn’t cause any power issues when it comes back on.”
“And what makes you cry, Leo Dentz?” Andie shifted in her seat, more focused on her companion than whether any of the homes had power.
He sent her a look that she couldn’t place, but somehow, and she didn’t comprehend the why, it made her toes curl. “Damaged antiques.”
“But you fix antiques.”
“Damaged antiques that I’ve already fixed.”
“Is that a hint to be careful with my desk when you’ve finished with it?”
He straightened in his seat. “That desk is going to be solid. You won’t be able to damage it.” She’d hit a nerve, and his pride, and why did that just endear her to him more?
“I think a hacksaw would beg to differ.”
Leo turned on his blinker, a slight shake to his head. “I’d be worried if I didn’t already know how much it meant to you. You won’t damage it, at least not on purpose.”
Truth. The desk held a special place in her heart, a way to keep her mother’s memory alive. She’d cherish it for as long as she could.
“Hey, lights are on.”
Andie snapped to, taking in the lit street and glow of holiday and inside lights adding to the night. “On our street, as well. That’s fortunate.”
“Fortune, or foreboding?” Leo’s voice dipped low as he parked in the back of their building. He turned to her, arm against her backrest, leaning in.
“Are we turning this into a holiday horror story now?”
Leo’s face blanched. “What? No. I …” he dropped his head. “I was trying to set the mood, and not in that way.”
“No attackers lurking in the dark, ready to cut the power and blame it on the wind?”
Leo pulled back.
Andie laughed. “Sorry. I’m not all crayons and fingerpaint and ABCs.”
“I guess not.” He turned off the car. “Better that way.”
They exited the car and headed up to the building, the wind making itself known and flicking hair, jackets, trash—anything it could find—about.
“This wind got worse since we left,” Andie said. They hurried ahead, Leo holding the door open for her, stepping into the warm lobby.
Both shook off the cold.
“That was event—”
Leo’s words cut off along with their power. The lobby plunged into darkness, the steady hum of the heater and the elevator halting. With her vision cut off, Andie’s throat constricted, and the first beads of worry rose to the surface. Needing something, or rather someone, to latch onto, she reached out and clutched Leo’s arm, amazed she found it on her first try.
“Hang on,” he said, fumbling with something, and then his phone cast a glow in the darkness.
Andie breathed easier seeing their shoes and the floor. “I’m sorry I joked about attackers in the dark.” Really sorry, now that her anxiety ran rampant and her skin prickled with the unknown of what surrounded her.
Leo pulled her in, holding her close. “Come on, maybe it’s temporary and it’ll turn on by the time we get upstairs.”
She could only hope. They passed the elevator, heading to the stairwell, following the light of Leo’s phone up the four flights. Andie kept one hand on the wall as they climbed through the dark space. “Shouldn’t there be emergency lights?” Andie asked.
No answer came from behind her.
Andie stopped and turned.
Leo shined the light toward her face. “Did I miss something?”
Andie pointed. “Shouldn’t there be emergency lights?”
Leo angled the phone up, to the dormant security light on the wall. “Should have been.”
“This has all the makings of a horror movie,” Andie grumbled.
At their floor, they exited into the even darker hall. Andie shivered. It wasn’t cold, not yet at least, but the dark made the night feel eerie. As though anything could jump out from any corner. Not a thought she’d ever had in their building. She tried to control her breathing, tried to remind herself that the only difference was the power. The thought brought no comfort.
“You okay?” Leo shined the light so he could see her face.
Andie shielded her eyes from the glare and tried to smile. “Yes.” She never really liked it when the power went out, not alone at least. During the last power outage she’d gone and spent the night with her father, it didn’t matter if he had electricity or not. “I had been thinking of asking you in, but under the circumstances it’s grown more than a simple thought.” She grimaced. “I’m not exactly a fan of power outages.”
Leo pulled her lapel close. “Whatever you need, Andie. I’m here.”
She breathed him in, nearly chest to chest. And even though the glow of light made it very obvious the power was out; Andie no longer felt the effects of the wind or the dark. She knew how he tasted now, knew it would make her dislike of outages somehow less. “I need you to kiss me.”
“You never had to ask.” He crushed his mouth to hers, the light shining away as something crashed to the floor. Probably his phone. Definitely his phone. She didn’t need light, not at the moment. She wrapped her arms around his neck as his hands banded her waist to his. They lived inside their own little bubble, blocked off from the rest of the world, and exactly what they each needed.
Well, at the very least what she needed, and judging by the complete commitment from her partner, she held confidence in it being mutual.
She pulled back and he groaned. “I need my keys, we’re still in the hall.”
Leo’s phone had landed with the light shining up, showing off his long eyelashes as he blinked. Andie watched as realization slammed back into him. “I, uh, forgot.”
That made him adorable. And sexy. Sex-dorable? No, that’s bad, she’d have to check with Sarah for better opinions if she remembered.
Andie quickly unlocked her door, opening it wide for Leo to follow her inside. Her shades let in a sliver of the moon’s glow. Without any other ambience it felt cold, rather than sexy. Leo caressed her arm but Andie held up a finger. “Give me a moment.”
She took out her phone, accessing her flashlight app, and moved about collecting candles that were not meant for her menorah. She had a thing for candles and easily found tubs of various sizes, and fragrances, and placed as many into her arms as she could manage. Now was the time for light, not deciding which smells would go well together. She snatched her candle lighter and then froze. Where to set up? Was her bedroom too forward? Would they even get to her bedroom? Should she want it to be that obvious?
“Need any help?”
Leo’s voice broke her from her overthinking. Living room. Candles could be moved. With her arms nearly overflowing, and her phone trapped under her chin, she turned to Leo. Without a word needed, he came to her and took her phone and most of the candles.
“Quite the selection you’ve got there.”
“I like candles.” And they came in extra handy at times like this. She set up two in her kitchen and lit them. “And not just around Chanukah.”
Leo held one up, studying the name. “Vanilla cupcake, nice.”
Andie took it from him, setting it on her coffee table. “I like things sweet.” She glanced over her shoulder. “Like you.”
Heat from the flame soothed her cheek and Leo stepped closer, bringing more warmth to the cold, powerless night. “I can be not sweet.”
Her belly clenched.
He cringed. “Sorry, that sounded wrong.”
Andie laughed. “See, sweet.” She set down the items in her hand and rose to his height. “And I liked what you said.” She kissed him then, in the glow of fewer candles than anticipated, meshing her body to his. They both still wore their coats, and she had the sudden urge to get the coats and much more off, now.
But it was too soon and still far too cold. Instead, she pulled back and resumed lighting candles.
“You’re an amazing woman, Andie.”
She tossed her hair over her shoulder to look at him. “Why is that?”
The glow of the flames danced across his face, illuminating a look of wonder and affection. “I just like everything about you.”
It made the moment feel different than it should, more meaningful than neighbors taking comfort during a Chanukah power outage. A charge of electricity between them, strong enough it should have turned the power back on. And Andie didn’t care. Because she liked him, too—the only thought that truly mattered.
She lit two more candles, then joined Leo where he stood. He’d removed his coat, and she tossed hers on a chair. “I like you, too.”
He pulled her to him, claimed her lips, and she kissed him back, savoring his taste, the subtle sting of his late-day shadow, along with the candle smell in the air.
If anyone ever asked her for a perfect night and a perfect first time, she’d think of this night, whether it got there or not, power outage and all.
His hands rested on her hips, lightly gripping the fabric of her shirt. Tame, innocent, but hinting at restrained tension.
Andie licked at the seam of his lips, and he let her in, tangling tongues. He tasted of cocoa, yet he was the one groaning, tightening his grip, pulling her flush against him. She wiggled against his hardness, insides clenching as anticipation ratcheted up several notches.
Leo pulled back. He pressed his forehead to hers, breathing heavily. “I need you to be very clear about why you invited me in. Use small words if possible, I’m not sure I’m thinking straight.”
Definitely sex-dorable. She placed her hands on his cheeks, holding his head to keep his eyes locked on hers. “I want you to spend the night. In my bed. With me.”
“Good, because that’s all I can think of.”
He crushed his mouth to hers, showing her some of what he’d held in. It created a tug straight through her, made her want more than she could remember wanting from anyone else. His hands slid from her waist to her rear and he squeezed, nearly setting off a tiny rocket through her.
This time, she broke the kiss. “Couch or should we move the candles to the bedroom?”
“I’m not going to notice a damn thing except you.”
There went another tiny rocket. She could become spoiled by this man. He’d taken her bar and threatened to set it higher than it had been before. It might create problems for the next guy, but she’d deal with that later. His kisses and words and touch were too good to miss and she fell back into him, wanting to kiss him all night.
No, scratch that. Only part of the night.
His hands slipped under her shirt, just barely. Goosebumps erupted, the good kind, and she pressed her chest into him, trying to relieve the pressure, desperate for his attention. But Leo stuck to his pace.
Andie tried to follow it, but she’d gotten promises of things to come, and she wanted to explore it all. “Is there a problem?” she asked.
“I don’t want you to be cold.”
Oh, oh. This man. What was she going to do with him? “I’m so turned on I don’t think I feel temperature.”
His lips curved into a sinful grin. She nearly licked him. “In that case …” He reached forward and collected the bottom of her shirt. Even with all the go-ahead she’d given him, the man paused, not moving forward until she gave him a single head nod. Then he managed to pull her shirt up and off without leaving her tangled.
At the sight of her lace bra, his Adam’s apple gave a big jump.
“My turn.”
Andie slipped his buttons from their holes, revealing a lightly muscled chest with a smattering of chest hair. Leo’s shirt soon fell to the floor. They reached for each other, pressing skin against skin, both losing the cool, smooth vibe of earlier. One of Leo’s hands slid up her side, and around, until he brushed against her pebbled nipple.
The next time the power went out she was definitely remembering this, and the feel of his hand against her. The dark night had suddenly become her favorite thing. She nipped at his lip, showing her appreciation. His groan snaked through her and then she meshed her mouth to his, their hands exploring, and if the wind made any noise outside, Andie didn’t notice. She pulled him to the couch and he covered her body, pressing into her, creating their own personal self-heated cocoon. How could he have thought she’d be cold? Not with them together.
Though tangled on the couch, they somehow managed to remove more clothes, lips barely stationary. There was skin to explore and taste, pleasure to be shared and had. A moment pure and sexy, a union of two souls.
By the time Leo grabbed a condom and slid inside, Andie was practically panting his name. The first push was magic, the second divine, and then it was only the rollercoaster of pleasure, the climb to the peak, the drop, the climb again, until they both lay sweaty and sated in each other’s arms.
“I don’t know about you, but this is the best power outage ever,” Leo said into the crook of her neck.
Andie laughed and held him closer. “Happy Chanukah, Leo.”
He lifted his head, kissed her forehead. “Wrong types of candles.”
She chuckled again. “You got something better?”
He shifted off her, until they lay side by side facing each other. “Thank you for giving me a second chance.”
She brushed at a lock of his hair. “Thank you for proving I should.”
He kissed her then, soft and sweet in contrast to before, and somehow making her yearn for more.