Alex’s face is hidden behind her knee. I asked Alex to dinner, and she shot me down. It’s not a big deal, as I don’t do relationships. But I’m certainly not going to pretend to be interested in one of Alex’s friends.
“She’s really great. Everyone loves her.”
“What about you?”
“What about me?” Shoes fastened, she scoots off the bed.
“I’d rather take you to dinner.” She studies me. I’m not sure what she’s looking for, but I stare right back.
Our gazes deadlock. I will not back down. I’m not asking anything that isn’t appropriate. Jack confirmed nothing is going on between the two of them. Her eyes flit to the frame.
“Me?” Disbelief colors the singular notion.
“Yes. You.” I’d like to do a lot more than take her out to dinner.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” She leans back against the doorframe. One arm crosses her stomach, one hand goes to her mouth, and her teeth scrape her thumbnail.
“Dinner isn’t a good idea?” She’s out of her mind. The sexual chemistry between us practically crackles, so intense her little dog glances back and forth between the two of us, as if questioning which one of us will lead the pack.
“I mean, it’s just that, you know.”
“No, Alex. I don’t know.”
“What would other people think?”
“What other people?”
“I mean, within Arrow. Or the FBI guy we’re about to meet.”
“I don’t believe he’ll question us about our dinner plans.” She rolls her eyes and drops her hand from her mouth, where it lands on the curve of her hip. “You know what I mean.”
Growing tired of this game, I stand and scoot the chair back under the table.
“Alex, I can assure you I wouldn’t feel it necessary to tell anyone working on this case if you and I decided to have dinner. As a matter of fact, if you wanted to keep things between us private…” I let the word hang for a beat for maximum effect. Her tongue flicks over her lower lip. “I wouldn’t have an issue with that.”
I am too old for kiss-and-tell games. Trevor, my closest friend, never hears about my encounters.
“Just dinner, right?”
“Or more.”
She drags one foot over the other, causing the fabric of her skirt to tighten around her thighs.
“I’m asking for us to see where it goes.”
“Where what goes?” Her lips curve upward, but it’s not quite a smile. No, it’s a flirty tease.
“I’ve just got this hunch. And I’ve been trained to trust my gut.”
“And your gut is telling you we should go to dinner?”
I nod. She reaches for her hair, gathers it to one side, and her fingers weave the dark locks into a braid. Braiding her hair could be a nervous tick. Or maybe she’s buying time to respond as she weighs her options.
The hem of her shirt rises as she braids. She’s truly sexy as fuck, but if she’s only been around mild-mannered academics, it’s conceivable she’s clueless how beguiling she is. She flicks a piece of fabric off her wrist and straps it around the end of her braid.
I move on instinct. My thumb grazes the soft curve of her chin. She tilts her head up. I search those forest eyes for any hint of a response and sense an invitation. It’s in those widening pupils, the way her body leans closer, the flush in her cheeks, and her quick, short breaths.
My lips cover hers, softly at first. I pause, searching her eyes, hoping to confirm I read her right. She reaches up, and her fingers snake behind my neck and into my hair. She gently pulls me to her. My lips brush hers, and I close my eyes. The slow kiss deepens, and her body melds perfectly against mine. She tastes of mint with subtle hints of rich coffee. My skin tingles, and my heartrate jolts into overdrive. She lets out a soft moan that goes straight to my dick. I grip her bottom, pressing her more firmly against me. She molds to my body as if someone designed her curves specifically for me.