The Wrong Right Man(10)
“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.”
“That’d be good.” He unhooks his cufflinks then pulls the bottom of his shirt from his pants before working on the buttons. I try not to stare at him, but it’s impossible not to admire his fingers as they work or his torso as he bares it to me.
Once his shirt is off, I take it from him with my shaking hands. I don’t look at him as I walk across the room to the dryer to toss it in. As I press start, the teakettle whistles, so I go to the kitchen, grab a peppermint teabag, fill my cup with steaming water, and carry it to the couch. As soon as I’m seated, he joins me, so I hand him the throw.
“Is this because you think I’m cold or because you’re trying to cover me up?”
“Both,” I admit, and he places the blanket over his lap, leaving his chest visible, and I shake my head then look over the back of the couch. “It’s still raining.”
“It’s supposed to rain most of the night.” I feel his fingers skim my cheek then turn to watch him twirl a piece of my hair around his fingers. “It’s one of the things I love about this city.”
“Most people from here hate the fact that it rains all the time.”
“Like you’ve pointed out, I’m not like most people.” He trails his finger around the shell of my ear, and then his hand slides into my hair so he can cup the back of my head and pull me closer. His breath whispers into the quiet, and my eyes slide closed as his lips press against mine. His thumb on my chin gives a silent demand to open for him, and I do, moaning when his tongue touches mine. When he pulls away, I start to ask him why he’s stopping, but my breath catches as he flips away the blanket and pulls me over to straddle his lap. “That’s better.”
He smiles before dragging my mouth back down to his. I have to agree; this position is much better. I move my hands up his chest and wrap them around his shoulders as his hands glide up the tops of my thighs then around my hips, urging me closer.
I get completely lost in him, his touch, his kiss, his taste, and don’t care if I’m never found as his mouth trails down my neck to the tops of my breasts.
“Lift your arms.”
I don’t hesitate. I lift my arms up over my head, and he lifts my tank over my stomach then breasts, eventually tossing it away. My nipples pebble under his gaze, and I hold my breath as he takes me in.
“Perfect. Absolutely perfect.” He cups both my breasts then dips his head, taking one hard peak between his lips. I whimper, sliding my fingers through his hair, then groan in frustration when he captures both my wrists, pulling them behind my back and leaving me completely at his mercy as he devastates me with his mouth.