Chapter Twenty-Three #2
I knew she wanted me. Annabelle wouldn't have kissed me like that if she didn't. She knew all she had to do was ask me to leave and I'd go.
I wouldn't use lust to cloud her mind. I wanted her to choose me. To trust me. And I wanted her to do it with her whole heart, not because she was dizzy with lust and need.
I had time. And I was going to use it well.
Every night it went like that.
Just like I had before, I showed up in the evening before closing. I brought my laptop and Annabelle made me coffee and a sandwich, always topped off with something chocolate she knew I'd love.
I never had to ask, and she delivered the food without comment. Slowly, carefully, I was easing us back into the friendship we had before.
Day by day. Step-by-step.
When she flipped the sign to CLOSED, I'd shut my laptop and bring my plate and cup back to the kitchen, starting on the dishes while she wiped down the tables.
Every night, at the end, I kissed her before I left.
Every night she came into my arms without hesitation.
Our kisses were getting longer. Hotter. A few times I'd slid my hand beneath her T-shirt, flicked open the clasp of her bra and filled my hands with her breasts, strumming my thumbs over her nipples and drinking in every whimper and moan.
One night, almost two weeks into my campaign, Annabelle surprised me by dropping onto the couch when we were done closing up instead of walking me to the door.
She had two open beers in her hand and held one out to me. I took it and sat beside her, sipping cautiously, waiting. So far, I'd been the one leading the way, coaxing her along, careful not to scare her off.
She sipped her beer, her eyes touching mine and flitting away. I missed her easy comfort with me. I understood her hesitance, but I didn't like it.
Trying to relax her, I asked, "Are you going to hire someone else to help you close?"
"Eventually," she said. "I want to get used to these two. Why? You getting tired of helping me out?" It was the closest she'd come to teasing me in weeks.
"Nope," I said. "Anyway, I need the free meal.
Mrs. W and Abel aren't back yet, and Sophie got tired of cooking for us.
Vivi refused, I'm terrible in the kitchen, and I don't think Aiden and Gage can toast bread. Riley can cook, but he said flat out that he works all day and he’s not filling in for Abel.
Lise tried once and they begged her not to go near the stove again.
They've all been living on pizza and take out. I'm the only one who's eating well."
"You should have told me, I'll send you home with sandwiches."
"No way in hell. You work hard enough. Those clowns can get their own dinner."
"No sympathy," she said, shaking her head.
"None at all," I agreed. "They can survive a few weeks without their personal chef. It's not going to kill them."
"So, you still don't know where Mrs. W and Abel went?"
"Nope. The only one who knows is Aiden, and maybe Gage. Neither of them are talking. Aiden keeps saying we can ask Mrs. W when they get back.”
"I think it's sweet," she said with a little smile, and took another sip of her beer.
I made a sound of agreement and took a sip of my own. Aiden had mentioned they were due back any day now. I could wait to satisfy my curiosity.
"How is your project going?" Annabelle asked.
My heart lurched in my chest. It was an innocuous question. Not really that personal, but Annabelle had mostly been avoiding me for the last few weeks. When she talked to me, she was distant.
This—giving me a beer, asking me about my project—this was change.
Change was good.
"It's getting there," I said. "Aiden asked about it."
She laughed. "Yeah? What did you say?"
"That I wasn't going to tell him anything until I decided what I wanted to do with it."
"Bet he liked that," Annabelle smirked.
"He's not that mad at me considering I talked Vivi out of moving in with me and into staying with Aiden."
"Really? So your house is ready?"
"In a few days, yeah," I said. "Do you want to see it?"
Her eyes skittered away again. Damn. Pushed a little too far.
"Maybe," she said slowly. "Maybe, someday soon."
Not a rejection, but not an enthusiastic acceptance either. Well, I'd take what I could get.
Annabelle set her empty beer on the coffee table and shifted forward to stand. I reached out and snagged her hand in mine, tugging her toward me as I set my empty beer beside hers. She lost her balance, wobbling on the side of her foot. I turned her as she fell—right into my lap.
Exactly where I wanted her.
"Just give me a minute," I whispered against the shell of her ear. "Just give me a minute and then I'll go."
Annabelle turned her face to mine and kissed me. She tugged at my lower lip, sucking, opening my mouth to hers, her long limbs tangling with mine as she settled her slight weight against me.
The couch was long and deep. I lay back, pulling her on top of me until she straddled my hips, her mouth hungry on mine, her tongue darting in to taste and stroke.
My hands closed over her ass, grinding her down into the erection pressed against the zipper of my jeans, the pain of it barely dulling my arousal.
Her kiss was fierce. Needy.
I gave her all she wanted and more, kissing her back with everything I had, not hiding my desperation. My sheer want of her. Her hair fell around us in a shining cinnamon curtain, stroking my skin with its cool length.
I slid a hand up the back of her loose T-shirt, pulling it from her sweat-damp skin, and flicked open her bra, tugging so the cups fell away from her breasts.
Rolling her to the side, I shoved up the T-shirt and bra, hooking my hands under her armpits to pull her up my body as I slid down until my mouth was even with her breast.
Small and firm and just the right size, I closed my mouth around her, pulling hard on her flesh until she moaned, arching up into me.
My hand tight on the curve of her hip, I rocked her against me, sucking hard, moving from one breast to the other, forgetting that we were on a couch in her café, forgetting the tall plate glass windows in the front and that the lights were on back here.
Forgetting that we had to stop.