Chapter 13 #2
When she reaches the door, she waits for me without so much as a glance back. I stand behind her, staring at the top of her head. She asks, “Are you going to unlock it?”
“I thought you had a key?”
“I . . . um,” she stammers, keeping her eyes locked on the door. Avoiding me, I suspect. “Just use yours. It’s handier.”
Not really since my right hand can’t fit into my pocket these days. “The key is in that pocket. Do you mind getting it?”
She shoots a look over her shoulder, slowly turning around as her eyes travel down my body. After blinking a few times and what appears to be debating with herself, which includes a little mumbling under her breath, she reaches forward and dips her hand into my pocket.
The tips of her nails scrape through the thin fabric of the pocket against my leg.
I shouldn’t have tempted fate. I resituate so she doesn’t have an encounter that she didn’t expect, but shifting doesn’t get the job done.
The moment she touches my dick, her gaze jets to mine as she rips her hand from the pocket.
I could apologize, but I consider it a hazard of the job.
The woman is sometimes unhinged, but she’s still hot as fuck.
More so since spending time with her today and getting to know her a little better.
Who knows, it could have all been fake. She’s a good actress, if it is.
If it wasn’t, I bet we wouldn’t be at odds if I knew the truth of what she’s up to.
She says, “I think you should get the key.” I set the cooler down and dig into my left pocket. “Hey! You said it was on your right side!”
“Did I? I guess I mixed them up.” Pulling out the key, I say, “Voilà.” I unlock the door and open it for her. Holding it with my foot, she marches in, shaking her head, which tells me I’m winning this battle. I grab the cooler and follow her inside.
Detouring toward the bedroom, she says, “Good night.”
“Wait, where are you going? We have gelato, like lots of gelato.”
She stops and turns, her head dropping to the side as her energy depletes through her shoulders. “As tempting as that is, I’m so tired.”
“It’s barely nine.”
“Early to bed. Early to rise.” She starts walking down the hall again, her steps echoing through the penthouse.
I set the cooler on the counter. “You won’t even stay up to keep me company?”
“I really am tired, Warner. Maybe tomorrow night.”
I decide to push a button to see what happens. “What if you’re not here? We should make the most of the night we have.”
Her feet stop, but I’m still only given her back to stare at. When she turns back this time, she asks, “Why wouldn’t I be here tomorrow?”
Casually throwing my arm out to the side, I reply, “You left me, Delaney. I’m on the mend. I don’t even need meds tonight. I appreciate that you stayed, but I’m out of the zone they were concerned about regarding the concussion tomorrow. So why would you stick around?”
If I had blinked, I would have missed her mask slipping.
It’s back in place before I have time to process if I saw something real.
She smiles and I instantly know it’s in opposition of the person accidentally revealed, even if it only lasted a split second.
The smile is pretty and could pass for most, but I know it’s not real, not compared to what I just saw. She says, “What if I made a mistake?”
“Mistake in leaving me? I can’t answer that, Delaney. Only you can.”
With a nod, an unexplainable understanding passes between us before she enters the bedroom. The air left in her wake isn’t heavy. It’s light as if hope has entered the conversation.
What the fuck are you talking about, Landers?
She’s a con artist. This elaborate scheme leaves me no choice but to play along. What’s the con, though? “Do you want me to keep you company in bed?” I call out as I unpack the containers of gelato and put them in the freezer.
Poking her head out, she says, “I can’t keep you out of our bed.”
I rest my left hand on the counter, staring at her with my mind going to places it probably shouldn’t. “Is that an invitation?” Too late.
I win a smile out of her. “You wish.”
“I actually do wish.”
Rolling her eyes, she disappears with a laugh back into the bedroom.
I pause for a moment too long, watching the empty doorway as if she’ll reappear.
Shaking my head, I turn and pull a glass from the cabinet, ready to fill it with water.
It occurs to me that I could drink something stronger since I’m not taking any more pain medication.
The occasion certainly calls for it. The occasion referring to Delaney.
Pulling a bottle of bourbon from the bar set up in the dining area, I fill the glass halfway before taking a sip and then topping what’s missing back up.
Delaney?
Delaney . . .
Is that even her real name?
With no other sound to disrupt, irritation rushes through me. I’m sure as fuck that Landers isn’t her last name despite her claim to it. Like the bed she’s about to tuck herself into. How is she so fucking good at this?
I need to get invested. 100 percent. The situation, a.k.a. Delaney, should be monitored at all times. But first, I take a gulp of the amber liquid. The bourbon goes down smooth, tempting me to take another drink. I don’t need liquid courage to handle her, but one more gulp won’t hurt.
With the glass in hand, I head down the hall.
It’s not been ten minutes, but I walk into a scene of seduction. A candle flickers on the nightstand, and something exotic fragrances the air. The lights are dim, but she’s tucked in a book like she can read in the dark. Or at least giving it her best effort.
I reach the doorway a moment before she knows I’m here.
My Harvard shirt has been replaced by a thin top with spaghetti-like straps, and her nipples are pertly at attention.
Delaney is downright sexy, sitting in my bed and looking like she belongs.
When she looks at me, she asks, “What are you doing?”
“What does it look like I’m doing?” I stand there as if I need permission to enter my own bedroom.
I walk in and cross the room toward her.
“I’m coming to bed.” A small frame sits beside the candle, the crystals sparking with each flick of the flame.
Interesting . . . “I like what you’ve done in here.
You’re really making it your own, almost like you intend to stay. ”
Her eyes don’t leave the book in her hands, but I know deep inside she’s dying to peek. “It feels homey again like before I left.” She turns a page, and then I’m struck with a devious look in her eyes. She gets such pleasure from triggering me.
Take a breath. I struggle to maintain a face of indifference as I stand next to the bed, but I manage to get by.
Barely. Setting my glass on the nightstand, no coaster, just barebacking that wood like it won’t be ruined from condensation, I strip off my shirt and rub my hand over my abs.
“That was a good burger. Too bad I’ll never be allowed back in the joint after the spectacle you put on. ”
Is that drool?
Her tongue dips out and runs over the corner of her mouth before she bites her lower lip.
I think I just found her Achilles’ heel.
It’s more predictable than I would have expected of her.
With her eyes glued to the six-pack of muscles I work hard for, she huffs through her nose.
“You, um, I . . . It is so good. I mean, was. The burger. Ugh. You know what I mean.” She closes her book without the impact I think she was hoping for since it’s a paperback.
Licking her lips, she asks, “What’s gotten into you?
” I start on the button of my pants. “Warner.” A cautionary tone from her lips doesn’t stop her eyes from drinking in the view.
I keep teasing her by stroking my abs. “What?”
Finding the will to pull her attention away, she glances at the glass on the nightstand before darting to me. “Are you drunk?”
“I’m not drunk, sweetheart, but I feel our connection.” Bumping against her to settle in the little space on the edge of the bed, I manage to make some room. When she refuses to move, I shove my hip against hers, causing her to tumble sideways to the mattress. “Tell me, do you feel it, too?”
“What are you feeling exactly?” Propping herself up, she scoots to the middle to give me room. I quickly hog more space than I need to make myself at home next to her. “The only thing I’m feeling is that I’m being tested.”
“Why would I be testing you?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” she replies sarcastically, rolling her head around on her neck. “Maybe to get under my skin.”
Remembering the mission, I’m not above making her feel paranoid. Come on strong. Get a confession. See ya later, lady. Taking the book from her hand, I toss it off the end of the bed. “Is it working?”
“It’s not. You’ll need to try harder and hope you didn’t damage my book. I hate bends in the covers.”
“Challenge accepted, and don’t worry about the book. I can buy you a new one.” Leaning in, I close the gap between her ear and my lips. I’m pretty sure she’s not breathing. I whisper, “I want to make up for lost time.”
I don’t think she’s blinked in the past thirty seconds either. A gasp leads to her sucking in air. On the end of a gentle and torturously slow release, she says, “You may not be drunk, but something has gotten into you. I’m thinking booze is to blame. Exactly how much have you had to drink?”
“Not enough to be unaware of exactly what I’m doing.”