Chapter 6
“Ihaven’t seen your apartment in a while. Looks nice.”
Gen fought the tremble that plagued her hands. She didn’t want the drink she was pouring to slosh over the side of the glass, betraying her nervousness. She couldn’t let him know he had that kind of power over her.
Their dynamic had always been casual, but in her mind, she’d been the one in control. She liked that. Being in control was the only way she felt comfortable. She’d always lived by the relationship maxim that whoever cared less had more power, so she figured she must have the power because she definitely didn’t care much about Gavin.
Right?
She breathed in and set the bottle of bourbon on her countertop and turned to face him, glasses in hand. She adopted a casual air, determined to maintain her who-gives-a-damn façade.
She didn’t know where this onslaught of butterflies making themselves permanently at home in her belly since she found out Gavin was moving home had come from, and right now she didn’t really care as long as she could keep them from showing. That was priority number one.
“Yeah, I guess we usually meet up in your hotel rooms, huh? I never thought about it.”
She was lying through her teeth and she knew it. She’d thought about the hotel room locations of their hookups very carefully every single time she’d suggested it. She’d told herself it was to make it harder for people to find them out, but the truth was, she liked the impersonal nature of the interchangeable square rooms. They were easy to get in and out of without letting anything that transpired in them affect her personal life.
A sort of “what happens in hotel rooms stays in hotel rooms” situation.
Now, she was welcoming Gavin into her private space—no euphemism intended—and it felt awkward. And nerve-wracking. And weird. And, in a way, awesome—the part she had the toughest time accepting.
Things between them had always been all physical. All feeling and no feelings, so to speak.
Was that changing now? If so…was it a good thing? If not…could she stop it?
She wasn’t prepared to answer any of those questions and had no desire to delve into them either, so she did what she did best: shoved her feelings down into a place so deep they wouldn’t crop up again unexpectedly.
That was the plan, anyway. It never seemed to work out exactly like that. But, what the hell. May as well keep trying.
Gen set the two tumblers on the coffee table, the amber liquid glowing in the warm light of her living room lamp. She sat on the couch and smoothed her skirt, keeping a professional distance between them. She wanted to make sure things didn’t get confusing.
“All right,” she said, straightening her shoulders, “let’s talk about heading the committee together.”
The edges of his lips curled up just the tiniest bit, and he inched closer. It was so subtle that if she hadn’t had her eyes glued to his body, she might not even have caught it. “Is that really what you want to talk about?”
The gruff timbre of his voice sent a thrill down her spine. God damn, the man had a rumble in his deep voice that could just about make her orgasm from the sound of it. He knew what he was doing; she was sure of it. That’s how he used it to such great effect.
She fought the tingles filling her belly and straightened her spine, doing her best to turn that column of bone and cartilage into pure steel. “Yes. That’s why we’re here.”
He slid his hand across the space between them and brushed his fingertip against her knee. “Is it?”
Her head spun and she closed her eyes to keep her mind steady enough to maintain consciousness. Not to mention maintaining her “you don’t affect me at all” façade. That was a whole other level of control she wasn’t even sure how she was managing.
When she spoke, her voice had a breathless quality that betrayed her, despite the studied blasé manner. “Of course. Why else?”
He replied with a light teasing tone, one that always sent her libido rocketing straight to the stars. “You tell me.”
Gen swallowed hard. “We’re here to discuss the committee.”
He leaned in so close that the faint heat of his breath feathered her neck and cheek. “Then answer me just one question, Genevieve. Why aren’t we at the Bar and Grill right now? Why are we in your apartment?”
She gritted her teeth, hoping that if she held her jaw tight enough, it would give her the strength to make one last argument. “We don’t want people to get ideas.”
His eyes glinted. “What if those ideas are right?”
He closed the remaining distance between them and kissed her neck, the gentle touch of his lips spreading fire across her skin. What little resolve she had melted… alongside her panties.
As if of their own accord, her hands tangled in his hair, the soft-yet-strong feel of it so familiar it was like coming home. Gavin’s hair had always been like that. It was firm under her fingers but… damn…it felt nice to touch. Kind of like Gavin himself.