He moves from behind me without saying a word and clasps my hand. Shaking his head at me, he leads me over to the couch and pulls me down with him.
As he unfolds a blanket, he pulls me close and covers us with it. Then he props a pillow behind my head. “Are you comfortable?”
“Yes.”
Ever so smooth, he dims the lights—allowing the flames in the fireplace to be the brightest spot in the room.
I expect him to try and make a move on me, to hit me with one of his over the top sexual comments, but he doesn’t. He simply turns on the TV and leans back against the couch.
“What’s in Boston?” he asks without looking at me.
“I’m not sure.”
“Are you going there for business, or for pleasure?”
The way he says pleasure makes my heart speed up a bit. “Neither...It’s just a trip to get away and have some time to myself.”
“You don’t have any concrete plans?”
“You ask a lot of questions.” I look at him. “Do you know that?”
“It’s the trait of being a good lawyer.”
“A good lawyer? There’s no such thing.”
He lifts his head up. “You have something against lawyers?”
“My ex-boyfriend is a lawyer.”
“I’m not your ex-boyfriend.” He looks offended.
“Yeah, well. You know what they say. All lawyers are practically scum, the only difference is some f**k you over worse than the others.”
“You don’t have to keep insulting me to get my attention.” He puts his arm around my shoulders. “You’ve had it ever since I saw you on the plane.”
“What?”
“You can stop trying to act like you’re not intrigued by me.” He grins and his eyes light up. “I know you want me.”
“What the hell are you talking about? You still think sex is going to happen between us, don’t you?” I immediately stand up. “You know what? I knew hanging with you was a bad idea.”
“Sit down.” He pulls me back onto the couch. “I just wanted some company,” he says. “It’s been a while since I’ve talked to anyone outside of my clients and my family, so I thought it would be nice to get to know someone new.”
“How sad. I know a therapist if you need one.”
“Okay, Paris.” He pulls me close and whispers against my lips, “I need you to stop being so f**king sarcastic. Right now. It’s not having the effect on me that you think it is, and the next time something smart comes out of your sexy ass mouth, I’m going to show you exactly what that effect really is.”
I blush and almost close the gap between us, just so that I can taste his lips, so I can see if kissing him will feel as good as I think it would, but he pulls away.
“I don’t think so.” He smiles. “You shouldn’t start things that you can’t finish.”
I feel my cheeks heating even more and make a move to stand up, but he pulls me down again.
“It’s A Wonderful Life?” he asks.
“What?”
“It’s a Wonderful Life.” He points at the TV. “Do you want to watch it?”
“Sure...” I say, even though it’s hard to pay attention to the movie when his fingers are lightly caressing my shoulders, when I can feel him staring at me.
After several scenes have played, and I’ve failed to feel his eyes turn away from me, I clear my throat.
“Is there a problem?” I keep my eyes glued to the TV.
“No.”
“Then stop staring at me.”
“I’d rather not.” He gently cups my chin and turns my head to face him.
Looking into my eyes, he brushes his thumb against my bottom lip—instantly making me wet.
“Since I need your permission, am I allowed to kiss you?” he whispers.
“No...”
“Why is that?”
My breath hitches in my throat as he presses his mouth against my neck. “Because...”
“Because what? It’s just a kiss.” He kisses my neck again and looks up at me. “Do I have to give you my whole life story before I get your permission? I can do that if I need to.”
I have no idea what he just said. I can’t focus because he’s currently running his fingers through my hair and staring into my eyes—giving me that same, lusty smile from earlier today.
“Paris?” He leans close so we’re lip to lip. “What do I have to do to be able to kiss you?”
“Nothing...”
Within seconds, his lips are on mine and his tongue is slowly slipping into my mouth. His hands are caressing my back and my body is giving in.
I let out a soft moan as one of his hands gently threads through my hair, as he whispers something against my mouth that I don’t understand.
Shutting my eyes, I murmur as he continues to thoroughly kiss me—directing my tongue with his, not letting me set the pace.
Before I can kiss him back, and suggest that we just continue doing this for the rest of the night, he pulls away.
“Goodnight, Paris.” He kisses my cheek and stands up. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
“What?”
“Goodnight,” he repeats. “I’ll see you in the morning.” And with that he walks away, leaving me wetter than I’ve ever been after a kiss, and ultimately frustrated.
Maybe I should’ve suggested sex after all...