Immediately to the right of the front door was a galley kitchen barely big enough for two people to move around in. The counter Roxy approached appeared to be the only dining space. Two wood bar stools were camped beside it. Beyond the counter was a cozy family room. An overstuffed gray loveseat and a cheerful yellow scoop chair framed a white oval coffee table covered in magazines. A bold blue woven chair hammock hung in the corner of the room, rounding out the seating and creating a welcoming feel to the space.
Rather than a ceiling fan or traditional lighting, dangling from the center of the family room ceiling were round yellow, gray, and white lights in varying sizes covered in paper, like Chinese lanterns. A shaggy blue area rug rounded out the space.
“Wondering why there’s no TV?” she asked.
He pulled his gaze from the wall shelves laden with photographs and rather beautiful artwork. It took him a moment to realize he had just been ogling her personal space for an unusually long time. He hadn’t been able to help himself. It was the first time he felt like he was getting a glimpse inside of her.
“Actually, yeah,” he lied.
He hadn’t even noticed.
“It’s in the bedroom since I’m not home all that much,” she said as she moved into the kitchen and opened her apartment-sized fridge. “I wasn’t expecting anyone, so I’m afraid my food and beverage options are rather sad.”
Until she mentioned it, he hadn’t even been hungry. His stomach chose that moment to remind him that he had neglected it for days.
She grinned when she heard the loud stomach grumble.
“Why don’t we order something?” he suggested. “It’s on me.”
“Two meals in a row? A girl could get used to that.”
He hoped so, though he knew better than to say it. “What’ve you got around here?”
“There’s a wonderful Latin place right around the corner. We could call it in and walk over to pick it up.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
Twenty minutes later, they sat side by side at her counter with a spread of maduros, arroz con pollo, and bistec a la parrilla in front of them. They decided to split the two entrées since Roxy liked them both and wanted him to try them. Both the entrées and the fried plantains were as delicious as promised.
“Damn, this is good,” he said after finishing another bite of the arroz con pollo. “I’m glad you recommended it.”
“Admit it, though,” she said. “You were doubting my sanity when we walked up to the place.”
He figured she’d know if he was lying. The place looked like a hovel from the outside. Even the sign out front was missing a chunk out of it. His expression must have said it all.
“All right, yes,” he admitted. “They apparently spend all their money on the inside and the food.”
“And the magicians in the kitchen.” She spooned more rice onto both their plates. “Do you have a favorite kind of food?”
“Right now? Latin.”
She laughed. They stuck to light topics like that one, which he appreciated. Even though the topic of why he hadn’t been in touch with her for so long wasn’t discussed, it weighed on his heart, nonetheless.
There was so much food that there were leftovers. After storing them in the fridge, Roxy said, “For your after-dinner pleasure, you have your choice of boxed wine, peach schnapps, or cinnamon whiskey.” At his dubious look, she shrugged. “What can I say? I usually only entertain my family, and that’s a rarity.”
Because he sensed the subject was touching on her pride, he said, “Whiskey it is.”
“Ice?”
“No, thanks.”
She carried the bottle and two small glasses over to the loveseat as though expecting him to join her, which, of course, he did. Much like when they were seated at the counter, the loveseat had them close enough to touch. Just the brush of her arm against his had him craving even more contact. The soft music she had put on the stereo before dinner and the warm glow from the ceiling lights enhanced the intimate atmosphere.
She poured some whiskey into both glasses and set the bottle on the coffee table. Then she handed a glass to him and lifted hers.
“Who are we toasting?” she asked.
He knew what she was asking. He wasn’t even surprised that she guessed what was weighing on his soul. The question should have caused him pain. But the way it was asked, in just this moment, felt perfectly right.
“To G-Man,” he said, touching his glass to hers.
“To G-Man.”
They each tossed back the contents of their glasses. He was impressed that she didn’t wince over the burn of the whiskey, as he was battling not to do so himself. Though he suspected the warmth in his chest had more to do with her toast than the drink.
“Now, Callan,” she said as she reached for the bottle and refilled their glasses, “I believe it was your intent to find me and apologize this evening. You should know that I’m really more a fan of showing versus telling.”
He gave her a slow smile. “Is that right?”
She sipped her whiskey and watched him with those incredible eyes. The look she gave him set flame to the smoldering lust he’d been battling since he laid eyes on her again.
He placed his own glass on the table and shifted his position, not only to get more comfortable in his increasingly constrictive jeans, but to angle himself so his left knee touched her leg. Her gaze moved down when he bent and stroked her ankle.
“You certainly do deserve an apology,” he said, gliding his fingertips from her ankle up along the soft curve of her calf until he reached her knee. “But you deserve my thanks, too.”
He lifted her right leg so it lay across his knees, causing her to adjust to balance herself. Her new position left her open to his touch, just as he’d intended. He kept his eyes on hers as he ran his hand up and down her calf and along the inside of her knee, his touch deliberate and gentle.
“I thought it was so fucking hot when you got on your knees and took me into your mouth that night,” he said as his fingers teased her.
Her pupils dilated and her chest rose and fell in a quicker rhythm. Just as he’d suspected, his mystery woman liked the dirty talk.
“I think you thought it was hot, too, Roxy.” He brushed his thumb along the inside of her thigh just above her knee, causing her breath to catch. “I think you loved getting me off like that.”
Her nipples hardened, pressing against the thin fabric of her dress’s bodice. She finished her whiskey with a quick tip of her glass. The sight of her throat working on the deep swallow caused him to shift again to alleviate the painful throbbing it caused.
He took her glass from her and set it on the table before returning his touch to her leg, this time slightly higher. “I think you got into that room, saw the pool table, and immediately pictured yourself putting me at your mercy. I think you got a little wet just imagining it. I’ll bet you’re wet now, aren’t you?”
Her teeth caught her lower lip. He found that so sexy he nearly growled his approval.
“I’m hard just thinking about it. That talented mouth of yours had me close to coming the moment it closed around me. And when you started sucking me off,” he said, allowing his hand to move a little higher on her thigh, “it felt like bliss itself.”