For the last forty minutes or so, we’ve been playing this game, but even though the questions are completely innocent, they seem to be amplifying the undercurrent of sexual tension building by the minute.
“Tacos,” I answer before taking a sip of wine.
“Steak.”
“Red meat—not surprising.” I smirk as his lips twitch.
“Favorite song?” he asks.
“‘Hello’ by Adele. You?”
“’Runaway Train.’”
“Really?” I eye him doubtfully and he grins.
“Really. Now, favorite color.”
“Purple.”
“Not pink?”
“No.” I make a face.
I listen to him chuckle then watch his lips move as he speaks. “Black for me.”
“Again, not surprising.”
“It’s not?” He lifts his glass of amber liquor to his lips.
“Not at all. Black is a dominant color, and that seems to be your thing.”
“Dominance is my thing?” He raises one sharp brow.
“Isn’t it?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never put a label on myself before or had anyone else attempt to dissect me.” He sits back then eyes my almost empty glass briefly. “Do you want another?”
“Yes please.” I smile, and he skillfully moves my legs from between his to stand.
I hold my breath as he bends, skimming his nose along my cheek, and then I close my eyes as he whispers, “Be right back.”
“I’ll be here,” I say breathlessly, catching the small smirk on his lips as he leans back. I watch him move across the bar, noting I’m not the only woman admiring all that is him. I pick up my glass and turn toward the window that looks out over the street and smile as a couple passes, holding hands with a little boy between them who’s attempting to do a backflip.
“Is this seat taken?” I look over my shoulder and come face-to-face with a man standing way too close.
“Umm.” Before I can say more, he pulls out Braxton’s chair and sits, setting his beer down on the table. “Sorry.” I try not to sound annoyed, even though I am. “I’m here with someone.”
“Really?” He looks around. “Where are they?”
“At the bar,” I say, and he looks toward the bar, and I follow his gaze but don’t see Braxton anywhere in sight.
“I’m sure your friend won’t mind if I keep you company.” His arrogance is not as charming as he thinks it is, and I feel tension start to settle in my neck and shoulders. “So what’s a pretty girl like you doing here on a Friday?”
A pretty girl like you? Really? I fight the urge to roll my eyes. “As I mentioned after you sat down, I’m here with someone. They should be back any minute.”
“Right.” He smiles like he doesn’t believe me and picks up his beer. “So do you live around here?”
“Why?” I ask and move away when he tries to cage me in like Braxton had me minutes ago.
“Just making small talk. I live in the building across the street.” Shit, does that mean we live in the same building? “What about you?”
“I’m new to the area,” I answer vaguely, and he thumbs the label that’s beginning to peel off his beer.
“I’d be happy to show you around sometime.”
Lord help me. “I—”
“Sorry it took me so long, baby.” Braxton appears out of nowhere, cutting me off, setting a glass of wine next to my now empty one, and cupping the back of my neck with his hand before turning to look at the man in his seat. “Thanks for keeping my girl company.”
Whatever his name is—his eyes widen like he’s just seen a ghost and he practically falls out of the chair. “Shit, sorry, so sorry,” he rushes out then stumbles away from the table. I watch him rush across the room, wondering why he looks like his life just ended.
“Are you all right?” Braxton asks, stealing my attention by moving his hand around to cup my cheek, and my eyes lock with his.
“Yeah.”
He searches my gaze for a long moment before taking his seat, caging me in once more, and just like that, the buzz that runs across my skin in his presence is amplified. I pick up my new glass of wine and take a gulp then set it down, wondering if I should do what I want to do.
“What are you thinking about?”
Asking you back to my place. Before I can make something up, people start shouting, and we both look toward the bar where a fight is breaking out.
“Fuck, let’s get out of here,” he says when a barstool is thrown across the room. Without giving me much of a choice, he stands and pulls me up with him. Then before I even know it, we’re standing outside. He takes off his suit jacket and swings it around my shoulders, helping me into it before he starts down the sidewalk, holding my hand.
Then, just like it’s prone to do in Seattle, the skies open up and rain begins to fall. Not a little but a lot.
Thinking, Screw it, I throw caution to the wind and pull him under an awning by tugging on his hand. “I live just down the street,” I shout over the pounding rain and nod toward my building that can be seen over the others on the street. “We could go there and dry off.”
I can’t understand the look in his eyes but let out the breath I was holding when he squeezes my fingers. “Lead the way.”
I don’t lead him. Then again, I doubt anyone has ever led him in his life. He pulls me across the street when the traffic is clear, and by the time we make it to the entrance of my building, we’re both soaking wet. I acknowledge the doorman with a small smile then head for the elevators.
I laugh when I catch my soaked reflection in a mirror on the wall then look up at him when he joins in. I press the button, and when the doors open, we fall inside still laughing. I hit the number for my floor, and as the elevator rises, I shiver from being wet in the air conditioning.
“Come here.” He drags me against his chest, and I soak in his warmth and scent until the doors open once more. We step out of the elevator and walk down the hall, and when we reach my door, I pull my phone out of my purse and tap it to my keypad and let us in. I flip on the lights and take off his jacket, hanging it on the handle, and then move to the kitchen.
“Do you want some tea or something?” I ask, and his eyes pull away from my place and focus on me. “I might have some Jack from when my brother and his bandmates helped me move in.”
“I’m good with water.” He follows me, and I fill up a teakettle, placing it on the stovetop before grabbing a glass for him and filling it from the tap. I hand it to him then go in search of towels. “Your place is nice.”
“Thanks.” I look around. I got a few purple pillows to add some color to the black couch and a silver-and-white throw that matches my bedding but haven’t done much else. “It was furnished when I got it, so I can’t take credit for the furniture.”
“Hmm.” He walks to the wall of windows and looks out over the city as I go to my bathroom. I take off my dress and undergarments and change into a pair of leggings and a tank then grab two towels and walk to where he’s standing, handing him one while using mine to dry my hair. “I don’t have any clothes that will fit you, but I can toss your shirt in the dryer if you want.”