Big Shot(31)

The navigation system in his car told him to turn down Belmont Avenue, cutting into his thoughts as he neared her condo. For as many times as she’d been to his place, he’d never been to hers. Never had a reason to. He knew from Connor that after Natalie’s breakup with Mitch, she’d bought the small two-bedroom condo on her own. It was located in a nice area of Roscoe Village where real estate held its appreciation, and resale value was something that would be important to her, being an agent, for the future, depending on how long she decided to hold on to the place.

He parked his vehicle in a lot for visitors and walked toward the building. It was the end of August, a little humid but a nice enough afternoon for a birthday gathering. Making his way up to the sixth floor, he found her unit and knocked on the door. She answered a few moments later, wearing a pretty but casual peach-colored dress with a band around the waist that was made of the same color of lace. The sleeves were short, the neckline appropriately modest, and the hem ended just above her knee. She’d left her hair down in soft waves, and her eyes looked even bluer than normal because of whatever she’d done with her makeup.

“Hey, beautiful,” he said, resisting the urge to push her back into the condo and up against the wall so he could have his way with her before they left. Two f*cking days, and he was dying to be inside her again. Was already counting down the hours until they could leave the party and he could get her naked and pinned beneath him.

Smiling, she gave him a quick, appreciative once-over, taking in his burgundy shirt and black jeans. “Hi, yourself, handsome. I’ll try not to spill a drink on your pants tonight.”

He chuckled at the reminder of her doing just that at his poker game . . . and what it had eventually led to. The best f*cking sex of his life. Seriously. Nothing came close to what this woman did to him physically. He didn’t want to think about how she was starting to tie him up in knots emotionally, because that was just too dangerous a place for him to go.

She opened the door wider and he walked inside, then followed her into the small living room. She was wearing a pair of shiny, high-heeled beige pumps, and predictably his eyes were drawn to the subtle sway of her hips and the way the material of her dress smoothed over her ass.

“You wearing panties beneath that dress?” Because as far as he could see, there were no telltale lines.

She gave him a cheeky smile over her shoulder. “Yes, I’m wearing a g-string, so keep your dick in your pants.”

Yeah, sure. Now that she’d put that hot mental image in his head, every time he looked at her ass, his horny dick was going to follow her around like a heat-seeking missile.

“Give me a sec,” she said as she kept on walking toward another door that led into what looked like the master bedroom. “I need to grab my lipstick and purse, and then I’ll be ready to go.”

Once she disappeared into the room, he glanced around the place, which was smaller and more compact than he would have thought. From where he stood in the living room, he could see both bedroom doors, a main bathroom, and the connecting kitchen. The furnishings, though high quality, were just the essentials because there wasn’t much extra room for anything more than the basics. The decor was clean and uncluttered and made up in neutral tones, with splashes of brighter colors thrown in to showcase a bit of Natalie’s personality.

She returned a few minutes later, her lips now shiny with a peach-colored gloss that looked like candy he wanted to eat off her mouth. She adjusted the long strap of a beige purse over her shoulder and stopped in front of him, bringing with her the scent of something soft and flowery.

“Nice place,” he said, meaning it. Despite the size, it was reflective of her.

“Thanks.” She glanced around the living room, as if seeing it through his eyes. “It’s small, but it’s just me living here, so it’s fine for now.”

“A transition home?”

Oh, shit, did he really just go there? Did his subconscious just betray the fact that he was a tad bit annoyed being labeled her transition guy? Judging by the amused arch of her brow, yeah, she’d definitely caught on to his not-so-subtle gibe.

Instead of calling him on it, she shrugged it off. “I guess you could call it that. I don’t intend to live here forever.”

Just like she didn’t intend to be with him forever.

Where the f*ck did that thought come from? And why the hell did he feel as though he’d just been kicked in the stomach?

“I want a nice house someday,” she went on, oblivious of the turmoil he was dealing with inside his chest. “But it doesn’t make sense for me to buy one on my own. I’d like to think I’m going to meet someone who wants to get married, have kids, and live in the suburbs. Then I can sell this place.”

Everything he’d never wanted. Her little spiel should have put things into perspective, but instead it made him feel oddly . . . alone. Which was exactly what he preferred, he quickly told himself. He wasn’t interested in marriage, or even kids, not when he’d watched how ugly things had gotten between his parents, how a divorce had ripped apart their family, and how he, as a young preteen, had grown resentful and bitter toward his father for devastating Wes’s mother and walking away to start a new life and a new family with the woman he’d been having an affair with.

And that’s why Wes kept himself closed off to women. Not because the leaving had wrecked his mother emotionally but because his father’s selfish choices had destroyed a part of Wes and had made him feel as though he hadn’t been good enough for his dad to stay, or even worth him visiting after the nasty divorce.