Arm Candy (Real Love #2)(24)

After that third “time,” we’ll be back to normal, and then I can relax. Not knowing when we expire is throwing me off. We weren’t ever supposed to start. I’m not intrigued by the mystery of will-we-or-won’t-we. Not knowing what’s to come is the scary part.

It always was.

We leave Bubbly’s for what I think is his place until he asks if I have everything I need from McGreevy’s before he drops me at home. My place is more convenient than his, considering I don’t have a toothbrush or a change of clothes with me. Smart thinking on his part.

At my front door, Davis walks me up the three steps leading to my house. A surge of certainty replaces the nervous tingles, but I’m still anticipating what is to come.

“You’re welcome to stay,” I say as I unlock my front door. I pull the key out and face him. “I have—”

Davis kisses me.

Slow.

Long.

Deep.

I give in to the fluttering of my lashes, closing my eyes and wrapping my arms around his neck. My breasts press against his firm chest and my heart beats erratically. When we part, I’m sort of hanging from his shoulders and he’s watching me through hooded lids.

“This is where I say good night.” He places a kiss on the center of my lips.

I whimper in argument. Good night?

When he lets me go, I catch his hand in mine before he walks away. “No deal.”

His mouth tips at one sensual corner. “No?”

“No.” My firm tone brooks no argument.

At least I hope so.

“I want you to come in.” I open my front door and gesture at the gap as if he doesn’t understand plain English.

“And after I come in? Then what?” His thumb caresses my hand as he steps closer.

My heart mule-kicks my ribs. Is he going to turn me down again?

“And then everything,” I whisper, hope jittering in my veins like too much caffeine.

“Everything is a tall order, Gracie Lou.” His voice has taken on a deep, husky tone.

“Well,” I say as he spears his fingers into my hair, “I did request the platinum.”





Chapter 9


Davis


Are you kidding? Of course I wasn’t going to leave.

I’m not about to turn Grace down when her green eyes telepathically sext me.

She has a tight hold on my hand when she closes the door, but when she tries to let go, I squeeze her palm with mine. Her smile is devilish and slightly shy. It’s the best combination I’ve ever seen on a woman. Normally you get one or the other. Grace is a tantalizing mix of both.

She points to the loft with her purse. “I should get a quick shower. You know what to do.” She inhales a steep breath and gestures to the fridge. “Grab a beer.” Then she gestures to the two-cushioned sofa. “Have a seat.”

I nod.

She lets go.

I watch her ascend the steps, smiling to myself as I flip the lock on her front door.

If she thinks I’m staying down here while she strips naked and takes a steamy shower without me, she’s crazy.





Grace


I had a very long shift at McGreevy’s tonight, followed by a date with Davis. A fact I became hyperaware of the moment he stepped into my cramped house behind me. As much as I’d like to ride this fizzy champagne buzz all the way to the land of orgasms, I need to shed my work clothes first.

Under the warm stream, I’m careful not to wet my very clean, perfectly styled hair—I clipped it back. Hot water pounds my shoulders and I stretch my arms to release the tightness and aches from lifting and bending.

I can practically hear the exasperated sigh coming from the college degree buried in the back of my bedroom closet. It’s in a large, overpriced frame, and the only reason I kept it is because my dad framed it for me. It was the least he could do, since he’d skipped my graduation—and been MIA for the last eight years of my life.

Anyway.

The degree in communications led me to an unfulfilling job working in HR at a prominent company downtown. My desk was near the top floor and I had a cubicle to myself. The hours were a dream—eight to five and an hour for lunch gave me all the nights and weekends free that I could want. But the job? Torture for a fun-loving people person like me. I picked up a bartending gig on the side at Club Room, figuring I could have a social life and make a dent in my school loan.

After I paid off said school loan, the bartending job became my true love. I’d picked up so many shifts, I spent almost as much time at Club Room as I did at my HR position. With few bills, and fewer incentives to continue working round the clock, I chose between the two. Saying sayonara to the Notorious J.O.B. to sling drinks for a living was the best decision I ever made. My mom rolls her eyes to this day. But hey, I paid for that degree, not her. I can waste it if I want to.

Turning toward the spray, I push my past back where it belongs and think instead of the tall, sexy man in my living room. I haven’t decided yet if I’ll beckon him upstairs after I’ve arranged myself on the bed in my sexiest lingerie (or nothing), or if I’ll go downstairs wrapped in a towel (or nothing). Each has its own merits. If I wait in bed…

My ears perk when I hear movement outside the shower curtain. When the bathroom door clicks shut, I know I didn’t imagine it. Short of the outlying possibility that a stranger has broken into my home, incapacitated my date, and crept into my bathroom, that’s Davis.