“I like him,” she said, casting me a soft glance. As if she was adding a checkmark of reasons to be impressed.
“He’s the best guy I know. Him and my brother. Both of them would do absolutely anything for me, and I’d return that favor in a heartbeat.”
There was no stopping the bit of honesty that came riding out. This girl getting deeper. Every second, coming closer.
The elevator sped, sweeping us to the top floor, me watching the girl as we went.
Her spirit and scent all around me.
Closed in.
If I thought she’d been driving me mad before, I didn’t know what hit me when I was caged in with her in that tiny space.
The girl so fucking pretty.
So soft.
So right.
The demon was itching to come out and play.
It was almost relief I felt when we landed at the top floor. We stepped off into the posh foyer, the clatter of dishes and glasses and laughter echoing from the restaurant beyond.
I set my hand on the small of her back.
Shivers.
Fire.
Hers or mine, mine or hers.
I wasn’t sure.
Maybe both.
Only thing I knew was that intense connection lit with the mere brush of a hand.
I pressed my nose to her neck and ran it up behind her ear, inhaling that lust-inducing scent.
Lace and desire.
The juiciest, sweetest plum.
Content thrummed through my chest.
I had the crazy urge to eat her all day long and then maybe snuggle up with her afterward.
That was right when I got to worrying that was exactly how addictions were started.
Twelve
Grace
The hostess led us out the side door and onto the rooftop patio. The fire in a gas firepit whipped and lapped into the dusky shadows, the heavens growing the deepest gray as swashes of fading color crawled across the sky.
A few other couples were dotted around, tucked into the private alcoves of couches and low tables.
There was a view of the city on one side up against the stunning expanse of the darkened bay on the other.
I hugged Ian’s arm. “No wonder this is your favorite restaurant.”
“Wait until you taste the food.”
His nose kept dipping to my neck, inhaling deeply, and I shivered with the thought that what the man really wanted to get a taste of was me.
I understood the impulse. The compulsion that shimmered and shook through the twilight. This feeling that came to life every time the man stood at my side.
We were seated in one of the private nooks with a horseshoe-shaped couch. Ian and I sat opposite of one another. Flames licked out from the small fire at the center of our table, jumping and tossing and playing in the air.
Adding to the heat.
I pressed my thighs together.
Not having the first clue what I was going to do with this man.
The hostess handed us each a menu. “Enjoy your dinner.”
She walked away, and Ian slung himself back against the cushions, one arm draped over the back. The man was so casual and powerful sitting there staring at me with the flames casting shadows across his face.
I didn’t think I’d ever seen a more deliciously seductive man.
He watched me with those intriguing eyes, those cinnamon hues a dance of disorder in the jumping light.
“You are stunning. Do you have any idea?” His voice was so low it was close to a growl.
I felt my heart nearly leap across the space where I was sure it would land right at his feet.
My tongue darted out to wet my lips, my voice low and filled with all the things he’d brought to the surface. “The first time I looked over at you standing at the bar, I thought I had to be hallucinating. I thought you had to be nothing but a figment of my imagination, and my mind was sending me a gift to get me through a horrible night.”
He cocked one of those grins. The one that touched me from across the distance and made that fluttery feeling flap and rise.
His long fingers picked at the back cushion on the plush couch, as if they were itching to jump in and play a part. “You shouldn’t say things like that to me, Grace.”
“No?” I was kind of surprised I was actually flirting. It was as if Ian reached in and plucked something from the depths of me. Something that had been lying in wait, desperate for release.
I ran my hands over my arms, covered in chills of need, realizing right then how much I wanted to find that with him.
In him.
But he was right . . . I was terrified I was never going to be the same if I let him have his way with me.
I knew it’d be a little wicked.
A little wild.
I knew it’d require completely letting go.
“Not unless you want me to haul you onto my lap.”
He leaned forward, voice a billow across the space. “I’ve had to temper myself since the second I saw you. I’ve always been a man who goes after what I want, and I don’t think you have the first clue how much I want you. Right now. This second. I warned you I was an in-the-moment kind of guy.”
I should be scared.
I knew it.
I saw it in the way he was watching me. As if he were half deranged. Hovering on a heartbeat before he went in for the kill.
Sitting back, I tried to see through all the attraction that blazed between us, to the man who I knew was right there, waiting underneath.
“Are you, though? It seems to me that there is a lot more to you than you’re letting on.”
He chuckled out a raw sound full of uncertainty and self-deprecation.
“Believe me . . . all the things I’m not letting on, you don’t want to see.”
“And what’s so bad about them?” I asked, inclining forward. Needing to get closer. This man who was so rough and raw and somehow intrinsically sweet. There was something good stitched into all that hardness.
I could see it.
Feel it.
He mimicked my movement, edging closer, filling the space as the darkness continued to fall around us.
I got the sense that neither of us could help it.
Stop it.
Resist whatever it was that drew us across the flames.
He edged my way, his hand on the couch as he scooted a bit to the inside of the horseshoe, angling in my direction.
A tremor of need slipped through me.
That seemed to be the only invitation he needed to slide the rest of the way over. Then he was right there, leaning in, his mouth a brush at the edge of mine as he issued the word, “Everything.”
He brushed back a lock of hair at the side of my face, his mouth taking its spot, the heat of his lips caressing across my skin. “I’m the devil.”
There was no lightness in it.
No playful caress.
It was bitter and hard and ugly.
This was the guy who’d first propositioned me at the bar that night. The one who’d outright warned that the only thing he wanted was to use me, fine with the idea of someone using him.
But I was coming to the quick realization that guy was really the illusion. A mask that wasn’t real. Bred for cover and protection.
“I don’t believe you,” I whispered.
Because I’d already seen it—something good. A flash of vulnerability.
He leaned in closer, sliding his hand across the fabric until our fingertips were touching. “You should.”
I gulped and pushed out the words, barely heard as they fell from my tongue, “And what about the guy who asked me for a chance? For someone to believe in him? The guy who wants to be worth it?”
Ian angled his head, his voice the rasp of a murmur across my cheek. “He’s praying you won’t hate him when you really get to know him.”
His breaths came out in pants, mingling with mine.
It was crazy, the way sensation went streaking through my body.
My nerves alive.
I felt as if I hadn’t been able to breathe for a long, long time.
And suddenly, I felt as if my lungs were expanding. Filling full. Saturated with his presence.
Taking a chance, I let my fingertips trail across his plush lips. “We all have secrets, Ian. Mistakes that we’ve made. We all have reasons not to step out and take the chance. But just the fact that you’re sitting here reveals the part of you who wants to be better. The guy who wants something more. Because I don’t believe for a second that you don’t have anything to offer. That there is anything cruel about you. I think you’re just scared.”