Barely Breathing(25)

“That almost killed me,” I said with a low laugh. “My God. I’d ask where you learned to do that, but that would just make me jealous.”

He stood and extended a hand to help me to my feet. I slipped my panties back on and pulled my shirt back down as he pulled up the bottom of his t-shirt and wiped off his face, giving me a flash of his defined ab muscles.

“I have to get back,” I said. “Marcus is bringing me onto a big case and we’re discussing it.”

Kane’s eyes darkened. “Is he coming on to you?”

“No. This is just work.”

He nodded, his expression still on the verge of a scowl. “I’m gonna need to see you this weekend.”

“Oh, are you?” I ran a hand through my hair, trying to fix it. “Maybe you should apologize for walking out on me, then.”

“Wasn’t that apology enough?” He gestured at the desk.

“No. You hurt me. I need words. One in particular.”

The scowl made its appearance and he heaved out a sigh. “I’m sorry, alright? I f*cked up.”

I smiled and kissed him. My taste still lingered on his lips.

“You’re forgiven. I’ll make you dinner Friday night.”

I smoothed out my clothes and we left his office. When we got to the end of the hallway, he held my eyes for just a second before we went separate ways.

“Hey,” Marcus said when I got back to the table. “Long line?”

“Yeah. Sorry.” I sat down and took a cleansing breath, trying to get my mind off of Kane and back on the case.

“You feeling okay? Marcus asked. “You look really flushed.”

“I’m fine. Let’s get back to it.”

He shrugged and pulled the paperwork back out. I couldn’t help looking over at the bar, where a dark gaze on us caught my attention. However innocuous I’d told him this meeting was, I knew he’d be watching. And I was more than okay with it.





FINALLY, FRIDAY ARRIVED.

Dinner was ready and so was I when I answered Kane’s knock on my door.

Tonight he’d ditched the dress pants and collared shirt in favor of his usual attire–dark, worn jeans and a black t-shirt. He wore a weathered black leather jacket and what looked like steel-toed black boots.

“You look good,” I said, reaching through the doorway and grabbing the two open sides of his jacket. “Really good. Get in here.”

His dark eyes swept me up and down as he grabbed me around the waist. I leaned up and he kissed me softly, his hands gripping my waist firmly in a reminder of our orgasmic make-out session in his office.

“Smells good,” he said, looking toward the kitchen. All I smelled was his the leather of his jacket.

“You’re thinking about eating?” I looked up at him and ran a hand over his big, muscular shoulder and around to his neck.

“Fuck yeah, I am.” He ran his hands down to my backside and squeezed. “You gonna let me have dessert first? Spread those legs for me again like a bad girl?”

My body warmed and I felt myself getting wet. His touch, his words . . . his very presence turned me on and made me bolder than I’d ever been.

“If that’s bad, I don’t want to be good,” I said in his ear. He squeezed harder, until I moaned.

“To the bedroom, then,” he said, his commanding tone inciting me further. I was hot everywhere, my arousal burning beneath the surface in a simmer that would probably boil over as soon as his mouth touched my skin.

Boil . . . wait.

“Do bad girls turn off the heat on dinner first to avoid fires?” I whispered.

Kane’s low laugh made me smile. He relaxed his hold on me.

“Let’s go have the dinner you made first. We’ve got all night, right?”

My stomach flipped with excitement. All night. Hell yes.

I turned toward the kitchen, giving him a coy look over my shoulder. “We have until ten. I’ve got another date coming then.”

With a single, unamused note of laughter, he smacked my ass, making me jump.

“Not f*cking funny, Viv.”

“You like chicken parmesan?” I asked, smiling.

“I’ll like anything you made.”

Chicken parm was my standby. I’d made it many times and gotten compliments. But I still felt a twinge of nervousness as I plated it and set the dishes on the table. I passed Kane a corkscrew and he opened the bottle of wine I had chilling on the table.

He poured us each a glass of wine and we sat down. I couldn’t keep my eyes off him. There was something different about him tonight. Wearing the clothes he was comfortable in, sitting casually across from me in my kitchen, he seemed more comfortable. More himself.

We both took a bite and he remarked about how good the food was. Then we ate in silence for a bit until I asked a question that had been nagging at me since the last time I saw him at Six.

“How did you know Marcus’s name?”

“Marcus Anderson?”

I nodded. “You said his name but I hadn’t told you his name.”

“I know him. He’s a client.”

“Oh.” I considered that for a second. “So he rents suites at the club?”

“He’s got one in particular that he likes best.”