“Hey, gorgeous.” I kissed her full on the mouth as her arms wrapped around my neck, forcing our bodies to connect and giving me a nice tease until I could get her naked and underneath me. “Mmm, you taste good.” Amy was an amazing kisser. In fact, I was pretty sure she was the best I’d ever had, which was saying a lot.
I didn’t typically kiss many of the girls I was with.
I made an exception for Amy.
Any living, breathing male would.
“Busy day?” She tilted her head and waved down the waiter.
“Nothing I can’t handle.” I winked. “So, lunch and then my place?”
“Sounds great.” Her hands shook a little as she reached for her water. Frowning, I watched in fascination as she chugged half of it and then nearly spilled the rest onto the table.
“Look.” I reached for her right hand and grasped it in mine. “If it makes you nervous, we can just talk.” Damn me to hell, I needed sex. I needed Avery out of my head. Fast.
“No, no. You’ve been so . . .” She nodded way too many times for her words to be believable. “I’m fine, completely fine. You’ve been so patient with me, and ever since Sam died, I just . . .” Her eyes welled with tears. “I think this is best, like ripping off a Band-Aid.”
My chest clenched as I stood and moved to her side of the booth, pulling her into my arms. “Amy, the last thing I want is for you to feel uncomfortable. Not only will it be a horrible experience for both of us, but you’ll feel guilty. I want you to be free.” I kissed her soft cheek. “I want you to allow me to please you, to bring you pleasure, no-strings-attached pleasure. I’d like to be the first man to do that since his death, but if I’m not the right man for the job, we can end this, no hard feelings.” What the hell was in the water? I meant every word, but damn, losing two girls in one week?
“No.” Her voice was firmer this time. “No.” Her grin was shaky. “I don’t want food.”
The waiter approached just then, and at Amy’s words he hunched his shoulders and walked off.
“I want you.” Her eyes lit up with excitement. “But I may be horrible.”
“It’s been a while.” I nodded thoughtfully. “Let’s just take it one step at a time, alright? You have the right to feel anxious.”
“Lucas Thorn.” She breathed my name. “One day you’ll tell me what turned you into this, but until then . . . I’m going to be grateful for it, even if it was horrible, because I don’t think I could do this with anyone else.”
I didn’t want to talk about my past. That was another thing I made sure my girls agreed to: they were never allowed to utter the question, Who hurt you?
I never talked about it.
And if one of them persisted in asking, I kicked her out of my bed and replaced her, but with Amy, it was different. She needed an emotional connection; hell, she just needed to be needed. Up until her husband’s sudden death she’d been a stay-at-home mom. Her new life was scary, and she was used to having a man depend on her for everything. Now she was back in the workforce and the dating field at the same time. I knew it was terrifying for her.
She wasn’t my usual.
I’d met her at one of my favorite bars and knew she’d be a great addition to my weekly list. She wasn’t pouty, or dramatic—hell, none of my girls were—she was just, nice.
I liked nice.
Needed it just as much as I needed sex.
Besides, I had the roommates for my more unusual tastes.
“Let’s go.” I held out my hand. Amy stared at it and then took it. I tugged her out the door. My apartment was in a luxury building near the edge of Belltown. The walk would be good for her, good for us, and maybe she’d be able to focus her thoughts more.
Her breathing picked up speed the minute I stopped in front of the Volta building. With an amazing view of Puget Sound, my two-bedroom penthouse was a bachelor’s dream come true. And though I had a fantastic salary as a corporate VP, the only reason I had been able to lease one of the top floors was because the owner of the building had been my Wednesday. God, sometimes I missed Monica, but she’d gotten married, moved on, and often emailed me pictures of her baby.
Even after she’d gotten married, I’d been to dinner at her apartment more times than I could count.
I stopped going when she got pregnant. Her husband, while understanding, wasn’t really a big fan of my lifestyle. I couldn’t blame him.
After all, I’d seen his wife naked and still had the balls to sleep with other women on other days of the week.
“So”—Amy clenched her fists—“this is it?”
“Let’s go.” I rubbed her back and led her through the lobby and quickly into the elevator, hitting the button for the eighth floor.
Twenty seconds later, the doors opened.
She gulped.
I shoved the key in my door and let her in. She was one of the first women who had actually seen my place, although she’d never been in my bedroom. None of my girls had. And I had a feeling she wasn’t going to be staying long anyway.
“Wow.” She gasped. “Your floors are incredible. Everything is so modern.” Another gasp. “That. Kitchen.”
“I love cooking.” I smiled.
She returned it, then nervously tucked her hair behind her ears. “Should we . . . go to the bedroom?”
“Nope.” I grinned. “I think we should stay in the light, so I can see you.”