Arm Candy (Real Love #2)(35)

“You were actually wearing a white T-shirt and sweats.” And sneakers. Without socks. He pulls the leather coat from his shoulders and tosses it over the banister.

“You said you needed me. I wasn’t about to waste a second changing.”

I bite down on my bottom lip, feeling full, and happy, and just…Yeah. Happy.

“Hang on.” He leans outside, then steps back in, shutting the door behind him. “This was on your doorstep.” He offers the narrow bamboo box with the word ZEN burned into the wood. “Cigars?”

“Tea.” I take the box, my eyes misting over. I haven’t seen one of these in years.

“Secret admirer?”

Not even close.

I clear my throat and force a smile I really don’t feel. “It’s from my dad.”

“Fancy.” Davis props his hands on his narrow hips and surveys my small living room. “So. What do you want to do tonight?”

I shove my dad’s unexpected gift to the side and pull my own box of cheap tea from the cabinet. I won’t allow him to mess up what could be a perfect evening.

Davis is handsome and charming and real and here. He’s here because I told him I needed him. A man being here when I need him is a novelty I’ll bet won’t wear off anytime soon.

“How about that zombie show?” I ask.

“You’re on.”

—

A few hours later, we’re starting episode three. I drank my hot tea and Davis had a beer. Our empty bottle and mug sit side by side on the coffee table. I take my eyes from the mayhem on the screen to study the contrast between the pale pink mug with the string and tag dangling over the edge and Davis’s empty Sam Adams bottle. Like us, you wouldn’t expect to find them together.

Davis squeezes my foot where it rests on his lap. At some point, I sank onto my back on my small couch and put my legs on his lap. He let me, which I like.

In another oddly comfortable move, he leans forward to grab the remote and pause the show. “Ready for bed?”

I take my eyes off the still of a decaying zombie to focus on Davis’s painfully handsome face and sexily rumpled hair.

“I’m okay.” I’m tired but not ready for him to leave yet.

“You sure? You look sleepy.”

“Thanks a lot!” I poke him in the chest with my big toe. He grasps my ankle and heat shoots up my leg. I want him again. This is ridiculous.

“Was that insulting?”

“When someone says you look tired, it usually implies ‘haggard.’?” I tug my leg out of his grip, breaking the heated connection, and sit up. I fuss over my hair and swipe the hollows of my eyes in case my mascara has migrated.

“I didn’t say ‘tired.’ I said ‘sleepy.’?” He palms my neck. “Warm and cuddly and sleepy. I was implying we should go to bed.”

“We?” I shift, but not to move farther away. He takes advantage of our closeness to kiss me on the mouth.

It’s as incredible as every other kiss he’s given me.

“Invite me to stay, Gracie,” he says against my parted lips.

We’re in dangerous territory. Dangerous dating territory. In spite of my instincts screaming at me to tell him no and go to bed by myself, I nod my affirmation.

“Need to hear the words.” He pushes me to my back. Hovering over me, he slides his hand to my butt and hitches my leg over his hip. His hips settle between my legs, his weight familiar and welcome, the nudge of his budding erection even more welcome.

“Stay.” The microsecond it’s out of my mouth, he kisses me.

We kiss until my television gives up on us and winks off on its own.

We’re not far behind.

Davis leads me up the stairs to my bedroom and tucks us in. The last vision before my heavy eyelids close is his incurable smile.





Chapter 13


Davis


Poker night at my place isn’t a regular occurrence, but when Simps mentioned doing it again, I offered my apartment. By ten thirty, I’m sitting at my kitchen table with a few remaining core players: Simps, Charmaine, who is pretty much one of the guys, and Vince. There’s rock music in the background, a bottomed-out bowl of cheese dip, and a neglected veggie tray.

“No one ever eats the vegetables except for me,” Char grumbles as she snaps the lid onto the plastic container.

“I ate a carrot stick to test what it’d taste like with the cheese dip.” Vince shakes his head. “Not good.”

Char clucks her tongue, and next to her Simps makes a futile attempt to scrape cheese from the bare bowl before giving up and eating the chip.

“Poor Char,” he says as he chews. “All that slaving you did over the supermarket cash register gone to waste.”

“You’re such an ass,” she tells him with a roll of her eyes.

Simps dusts his hands on his jeans and turns to Vince and me. “Cigar?”

“No, I’m looking forward to kissing my girlfriend tonight, but thanks.” Vince’s smile is relaxed and, frankly, enviably dopey.

I open my mouth to take Simps up on the cigar, but what if Grace texts me after she’s done at work? I don’t want to go over there smelling of cigar and lose my chance to kiss her.

“I’m out,” I say. “But help yourself to the balcony.” At the back of the hall beyond my office is a guest bedroom with a balcony facing the city lights and the river—not a bad view for cigar smoking.