Chapter 19 We Talked about this #2
As she wrestled with such questions, she decided to buzz one last time.
And, shockingly, Wes buzzed back. Without hesitation, she raced in and hurried to Wes’s first-floor apartment door.
Before she could connect fist with wood, it flew open.
And there was Wes, standing before her. Half naked.
Wearing nothing but a towel slung around his hips, a toothbrush lodged in his mouth.
He also had a towel wrapped around his head, which was bizarre since—what hair did he have to dry? He wore a close fade.
Sasha stared. No, she gawked. For some reason, being half naked made him look even taller than six foot four.
Droplets of water pooled in the valley of his collarbones, spilling down the wide, sculpted expanse of his chest. Her eyes traveled down the sinewy muscles of his arms, down his abs, and, Jesus Christ, his thighs.
She wanted to bite each one. She traveled back up to where she was avoiding.
The barely disguised bulge behind the towel.
Thick and long, and it wasn’t even hard. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
Wes popped the toothbrush out of his mouth. Absentmindedly, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. His tongue darted out to the corner of his mouth, licking up some errant toothpaste. His half smile was dangerous, knowing.
It was the single sexiest gesture Sasha had ever seen.
“Hi.” Wes sounded as if he’d been expecting Sasha. As if, despite everything he’d said, her showing up on his doorstep was inevitable.
“Hi.” It came out in a whisper, her voice momentarily giving out. She cleared her throat. “You always answer the door like that?”
“You always show up unannounced?”
“Well, no, not usually. But I have something of yours.”
“Of mine? What do you have?”
She took the journal out of her bag and handed it to him. “It was in my bag, I have no idea how it got there. Must’ve been a mix-up at Brown Butter the other day.”
“I didn’t know I’d misplaced it,” he said, brows creasing. “Did you . . . uh, did you read anything?”
“No, of course not.”
“I mean, you could’ve. It’s not like there’s anything in there that . . .” He trailed off, with a shrug. “You know.”
Sasha didn’t know, but she nodded. “As soon as I realized I had it, I brought it over. I didn’t want you to think I was holding it hostage. I’ve been trying to contact you for hours.”
“Ohhh. Yeah, I was busy performing poorly at a barbecue competition. Anyway, thank you,” he said casually. “Where are my manners? Come in.”
“No, I really shouldn’t. I see you’re settling in for bed. I should go.”
“Don’t go. Come on, you’re already here.” He moved back a few steps, widening the door with him.
Goddamn it, he was such a ham. And the king of mixed messages. Standing there, wet, in only a towel? Was he teasing her, after putting up such a firm boundary yesterday? Testing her, seeing if she was strong enough to resist him? Sasha never met a competition she didn’t want to win.
“It’s tempting,” she said with a smirk, “but no. You, yourself, put a ban on all flirtatious behavior. Let’s not get ourselves into another situation.”
“No, no, you’re right.” He paused, his voice taking a serious tone. “And thank you for coming. I’m not going to pretend I don’t know what a brave move that was for you to leave your house, at this hour. Alone. I’m proud of you for doing that.”
“Thank you,” she said softly. “I’m proud of myself, too.”
Her heart leapt. A beam of warmth spread from the center of her chest, radiating all over.
Without having to explain, Wes knew this was a leap for her.
It felt so magical to be seen. To be understood.
With Wes, she felt like she was no longer living an unwitnessed life.
She couldn’t have stopped the wide smile spreading across her face if she tried.
“Will you come in now?”
“Oh fine,” she said with mock exasperation.
He took a few steps back, opening the door wider and allowing her to step in. As she walked past him into the hallway, she took in his scent—warm, vanilla, cedar, smoky. It stirred all her nerve endings.
Inside, she looked around. His studio was cozy, well-designed and warm.
She’d expected more of a bachelor pad, with single-straight-guy artlessness.
But the decor was tasteful and masculine, awash in camel and charcoal tones.
He had an incredible, oversized black-and-white print hanging over the couch—a shot of kids playing in a New York City street.
The mat was a deep, forest green—an inspired touch.
“What’s this print?” she asked, pointing to it. “It’s stunning.”
“You like it?” He walked over to the couch. She couldn’t help but focus on his back, strong with sculpted shoulders. She wished she didn’t know how good his skin felt on hers. How strong he felt above her. How easily she came undone under him.
Shut your whore mouth, she told herself.
“Yeah, that was a fun day. I was nine, it was the hottest summer on record in Brooklyn. The hydrant was blowing water everywhere.”
Sasha’s jaw dropped. She walked over to the wall and stood next to him, taking it in. “You’re the little boy caught in midair, flying through the water spray?”
“Always so chaotic. I couldn’t sit still. It’s a great shot, though. I don’t remember who took it. But it was taken on this exact block, so I thought it’d be cool to blow up.”
“A true child of Fort Greene. You’re adorable.” She winced slightly. “You were adorable.”
“Thanks. Yeah, that photo’s special.” He turned to face her, and she faced him, too. “I was going to call you tomorrow, but since you’re here . . . I have an update for you. Do you have an evening gown?”
“An evening gown? Why?”
And then Wes explained the gala on Friday, that there was a good chance Teo could be there.
And that, hopefully, they could wrap up the case for good.
Of course, Sasha was in. And she pretended to be excited.
But the idea of seeing Teo and Wes in the same place at the same time was too mind-bending to process.
Especially right now. She couldn’t focus on anything but dripping, bare-chested Wes in a towel.
“I was just about to get some water,” Wes was saying. “You thirsty? Hungry? Can I interest you in a rib with a fork?”
“No, I really can’t stay. I just wanted to drop off the journal.”
“This is an anticlimactic first visit to my apartment. But I’m glad you’re here.”
“Same. I love seeing where you live.” Feeling awkward, she fiddled with her gold cuff, looking down at her hands.
The apartment was silent. Everything was still.
And then, the thing that happens with them, happened.
The same way it always did. Standing in front of him, breathing the same air—all her nerve endings came alive.
Whatever chemistry they summoned together, it made her feel deliriously off-kilter and yet perfectly balanced.
And just like that, their carefully negotiated boundaries went pttht. It was like the power suddenly went out, worldwide. Lights out. Bets off. No rules.
“Sasha,” he said, waiting for her to look at him.
When she did, everything else receded. She saw the rise and fall of his chest, his gaze flick down to the sliver of stomach showing between her sweatshirt and leggings.
His jaw tightened, and he clenched and released his hands at his sides, as if trying to find the strength to hold it together.
She certainly couldn’t. He was irresistible, with his wicked eyes, and overwhelming strength, and lusty mouth, and open heart—and she wanted to devour him. She felt out of control.
There was no point in pretending it wasn’t going to happen. Again. Neither one of them was strong enough to fight it. And, come on. Wasn’t that really what she was there for?
“We talked about this,” he said as a warning.
Sasha nodded, biting her lip. Her mouth watered. She glanced down at the towel wrapped low on his hips. There was no way to miss how fucking hard he was, tenting the towel. All of that “no more crossing the line” talk was bullshit. No matter what, they’d find a way to end up here. They always did.
“Remind me what we said,” she whispered.
His gaze was molten. “Get on your knees, first.”
Beyond thought, she dropped down where she stood. He moved two steps closer. She pressed her mouth hotly against his bulge, tracing the outline of his dick over the towel. He fisted his hand in her hair. Her claw clip went flying. A low groan rumbled in his throat.
“This just confuses things,” he managed, his voice a low growl. “Blurs lines. We need to focus.”
She grabbed the sides of the towel and yanked it down.
There was something so tawdry about him being naked, while she was fully clothed.
She handled the heavy length of him in her hand and dragged her tongue from the base to the tip.
He let out a choppy groan. God, she loved that sound.
She just wanted to drive him as crazy as he drove her.
With showy, excruciating slowness, she spit in both hands and swirled them up and down his length.
He hissed, biting down on his bottom lip till it whitened.
“If I remember,” he rasped, through gritted teeth, “you said we needed to control ourselves. Isn’t that right?”
She nodded, and then fastened her mouth on the tip, sucking wetly as her hands kept working him up and down, over and over.
And then she stopped. Peering up at him under her eyelashes, she dropped her hands, clasping them primly at the small of her back. His eyes flashed with immediate understanding.
“Can I?” he asked huskily.
“Do it,” she breathed.