Perfect for You (16 page)

She limply tried to push to him away. "I can't."

"Just one more," he said hoarsely. He eased a finger into her drenched folds.

She cried out, and he glided his thumb up to trace circles over that spot his mouth had sucked into sensitivity. He leaned over her, watching her. So beautiful. Her nipples were so engorged that they reminded him of plump raspberries.

What went better with raspberries than chocolate? He dipped a finger into the chocolate mousse and carefully covered each entire aureole with it.

Taking his hand, she licked the rest off his finger, with small flicks of her tongue that had him moaning. "I may have been hasty in deciding I didn't like chocolate."

"I could help you make up your mind." Holding her gaze, he lapped at the chocolate in long, leisurely strokes until her back was arching off the table.

He exerted more pressure on her clit, pushing deep into her at the same time. He felt her build up again, loving her whimpers of pleasure.

He teased her. He bit and licked and sucked as his finger rubbed her into ecstasy. "Come for me," he whispered in her ear.

"Yes. Oh
yes
." She caught his head to her chest and mewled before coming apart under his assault.

He brought her down slowly, gently easing his touches and leaving small, caressing kisses all over.

It was pure hell.

All he wanted was to drive his cock into her heat. But he gritted his teeth and breathed deeply, telling himself—and his engorged member—that this wasn't the place. There'd be plenty of time for that later.

Like all their lives.

Anna really didn't mean to do it. Freya's cell phone fell off the dresser—she couldn't help it that she accidentally swiped it when she picked it up and saw the string of texts from the other dude Connor.

They had a date Friday. Bah.

It was almost midnight, and her sister and Greg weren't back yet. That had to be a good sign, right? Because time was running out.

Today she'd gotten her admittance to Berkeley Law.

Meaning Greg had to convince Freya lawyers were okay, because Freya was
not
going to be happy otherwise.

She went into the living room and paced. Maybe she should do something about Connor. Freya must like him—she'd gone out with him several times.

She'd have to think about that.

Anna went to the window and looked out. No sign of Freya or Greg.

Or Max.

She hadn't seen him since that time she'd kissed him.

Anna rolled her eyes in ecstasy. That kiss had been
divine
. It hadn't even been a full-on, groping-hands kind of kiss and it'd still blown her mind.

But she couldn't kiss him again if he wasn't home. For a brief second she thought about finding out what restaurant he worked at and "happening by" for dinner. Only she wasn't the kind of girl who stalked a guy so desperately and, besides, it was probably a fancy restaurant. The only restaurant she could afford was McDonalds.

She should just go home. She had a project she needed to work on anyway. Damn painting class. She used to like art but not since she
had
to do it.

To help her get through the night, she decided to stop at the coffee shop around the corner. Caffeine was her friend.

The cafŽ was hopping, and there was a line. She stood at the end and checked her text messages. She was almost up the register when she heard someone say her name.

She behind her and blinked. "Max?"

"Hello." He smiled at her. "I'd accuse you of following me but you got here first."

She swallowed nervously, feeling awkward in the bright lights of the cafŽ. "Maybe I'm just that clever."

He gazed at her steadily. "You feel shy."

It was a statement, and she wanted to deny it, but it was true. "It's a new feeling for me."

The line moved forward and Max nodded at the barista. "Let me buy you a drink."

She ordered her coffee and listened to him talk to the barista in lilting Spanish before she countered. "I thought you weren't interested in me. You said we'd never happen."

"You were convincing the last time we met. You made me reconsider my original stance."

The kiss. Her cheeks flushed.

"Sit." He pointed to two cozy high-backed chairs in the window. "I'll bring your drink."

She went and waited, laughing at herself when she thought she was so obedient.

Max joined her and handed her a cup. She meant to say thank you, but what came out of her mouth instead was "I don't go around and kiss guys I don't know."

"Then why did you do it?"

Good question. Off-kilter in a way she'd never felt before, she told the truth. "I had to."

Max studied her like she was a complex dish that he wanted to figure out. "Do you regret it?"

"Hell no." She worried her lip. "Do you?"

"I'm not sure what to think yet."

"I could change your mind."

"You already have." The corner of his mouth lifted. "You appear to be good at persuasive arguments."

She bit her lip, thinking about the acceptance packet in her bag. Could she tell Max? It wasn't like he hung out with Freya, and she was dying to tell someoneÉ She leaned forward. "Can you keep a secret?"

"Of course."

"Today I found out I got accepted in to law school."

"You'll make a great lawyer."

Something in her chest softened. "You think so?" she asked hesitantly.

He nodded. "It's obvious. You have that sort of intricate mind, and you love to talk."

"That doesn't sound like a compliment."

"In your case, it is." Humor lit his eyes even behind his glasses.

But even still, she could tell he was serious. "You're teasing me, but you really mean it, don't you?"

"I wouldn't say it if I didn't mean it. Don't you think you'll be a good lawyer?"

"It's what I'm meant to do, I think."

He smiled. "It's a special thing, finding your passion. But to go after it is even more impressive."

For some reason, tears rose up her gorge. Strange—she wasn't a crier. But he meant what he was saying and that touched her deep down.

He must have seen her struggle because he said, in a light tone, "Of course law would be it for you. You take such great pleasure in convincing someone over to your way of thinking."

She knew he was talking about himself. Hope overtook all other emotions. "Did it work?"

"You're going to be a good lawyer." The corner of his mouth twitched as he stood.

Even though he was leaving, she knew this wasn't goodbye. She could tell he'd see her again, and that lifted her in the same way her acceptance letter had.

Bending over her, he lifted her chin and brushed his lips to hers. Excitement flared inside her, and she smiled even as his mouth was still on hers.

"Come over Friday night?" he asked her.

"For dinner?" she asked eagerly, wanting to know if dessert would be included. Better not to push it though.

"Yes. At midnight, because I have to work." He traced a finger across her eyebrow and stepped back.

She shivered, feeling that touch in all sorts of places all over her body.

He smiled. "I'm happy you're so persuasive, Anna."

She watched him set his cup down. Waving at the barstia, he glanced at her one last time as her left.

Huddling in the chair, she blinked in shock. Max asked her out.

He was going to make her dinner.

In his home
.

"Oh. My. God." She took a sip of her coffee, dazed. "What do I wear?"

Sighing, Freya stared at the contents of her closet. It didn't take a psychoanalyst to tell her that her clothing dilemma had nothing to do with her wardrobe and everything to do with a lack of desire to go out. Or, more specifically, her lack of desire to go out with Connor.

She sighed again, pushing aside dress after dress. If she were seeing Greg this evening, she doubted that she'd be undressed minutes before he was due to arrive, wishing she could go out in pajamas. She would have had an outfit that screamed "rip me off with your bare teeth" picked out that morning.

She grabbed a purple top off a hanger. She'd wear this with a pair of jeans and boots. Done.

This wasn't fair to Connor. She shook her head as she fastened her earrings. She hadn't been able to think of anything but Greg since that night at the gem exhibit. To call the evening mind blowing was like calling Chernobyl a mild mishap.

It'd completely rocked her world.

It was so beyond anything she had ever experienced that she didn't know what to think.

Fact of the matter was that she'd never believed physical contact could be so absolutely shattering, and they hadn't even really done anything major when you looked at it—from a great distance. Sure, her dress came off, but the only thing either of them could be accused of was ingesting an excess of sugar. That and many illicit kisses.

All over.

Well,
he
kissed her all over. She didn't get a chance to do anything interesting to him. She frowned, reaching for lipstick. And she'd wanted to. The thought of unbuttoning his pants and feeling him growing harder and harder gave her an anxious tingle between her legs. In the vault, she'd been just as turned on by him groaning as she licked her way down his chest as she had been with the first touch of his mouth to her private parts. She squirmed just thinking about it.

It was a revelation. She wasn't a stranger to an orgasm, but after the way Greg devastated her that night, her concept of an orgasm was totally redefined. It wasn't a gentle wave that rippled out in rolling crests—it was a cataclysmic surge that left her utterly wrecked. So wrecked that how she got dressed and back home was foggy.

She did remember the goodnight kiss on their porch though. She bet Greg did too.

She grinned as she swiped the color on her lips. Her plan with Greg worked. He'd totally inspired her. The day after, she'd had her head on her desk, daydreaming about the night before. Picturing Greg leaning over her body, her supine on the dinner table. And suddenly she knew exactly what her next mockup was going to be: two dark silhouettes sprawled across the top of the webpage, the masculine one on top, his hand in the shadowy depths between her thighs.

She squirmed again, thinking about the graphic she'd created. It rocked.

Why she and Greg hadn't gone all the way, she wasn't entirely certain. Yes, she remembered him saying the vault wasn't the place, that he wanted to savor her, but he'd had her naked and spread out. And then they came home—they could have picked up where they left off. Was that willpower, or did he change his mind?

She hadn't heard from him since.

She pouted.

No, he had fun. He wanted her—she could tell. If he didn't call her tomorrow, she'd call him.

That settled, she pulled her hair into a ponytail. She'd go out with Connor and have a blast. Tomorrow she'd talk to Greg and hopefully get inspired for one more mockup.

The doorbell rang. Grabbing a jacket, she answered the door with a bright albeit somewhat contrived smile. "Hey there."

Her smiled faded when she saw her sister standing next to Connor. "Anna, what are you doing here?"

"I have a date later. I thought I'd wait here. I ran into Connor on the porch."

Freya narrowed her eyes. "What are you up to?"

"Why would I be up to anything?" Anna batted her lashes a few times before giving her a hug. Then she gave Connor a punch on the arm. "Break a leg tonight. See you around."

They watched as she ran up the stairs, two at a time.

Freya faced Connor. "Do I need to apologize for her?"

"Not at all. I like her." His voice flowed over her, deep and masculine. She waited for it to raise goose bumps on her skin like Greg's voice did, but all she felt was tepid warmth. He took her elbow and leaned in to kiss her, carefully brushing her lips so he wouldn't mess up her lipstick. "Ready?"

She tamped down a wave of disappointment. She didn't want a wimpy kiss. She wanted a man who'd shove her against the wall and really lay one on her. She wanted someone who'd make her forget every pair of lips that she had ever known before him.

Someone like Greg.

Stifling a sigh, she said, "Let's go."

After wrestling her door locked, they set off. They had a pleasant drive over to the restaurant. Connor mostly kept up the conversation, but he was so entertaining that it wasn't long before Freya forgot her pique and began to enjoy his company.

By the time they stepped into the restaurant, she was laughing along with him as he imitated the proper Bostonian accent of one of his more trying clients. She was so taken by his story that she didn't notice what restaurant they were in until they were in a booth, menu in hand.

"Buta Sushi Bar," she said with an inflection that could pass for either being impressed or extreme disbelief.

Connor looked pleased with himself. "I thought you'd be surprised."

"Oh, I'm surprised all right." Of all the sushi joints in San Francisco he brought her to the one that she absolutely abhorred. She mentally made a face as she looked over the menu. Something had to be edible, right? "What made you pick this place?"

"I had a feeling you'd love this restaurant," he said enigmatically.

You felt wrong.
She tried not to think about how Greg had impeccable taste in sushi. The restaurant he had taken her to was beyond compare. Going to McDonald's would be preferable to eating at Buta Sushi.

She was being ungrateful. She was here for the company—she could always eat later. She'd order an avocado roll. They couldn't ruin an avocado roll, right?

Once they ordered and settled back into conversation Freya managed to forget the restaurant enough to take pleasure in talking with Connor again. "So where are you off to next?" she asked. "Didn't you tell me you had to go out of town again?"

"Just L.A. on Monday. Hopefully I'll only be there for the day, but worst-case scenario I'll have to stay Tuesday also." He sat back and measured her with her narrowed eyes. "Are you one of those Northern Californians who frowns disapprovingly on L.A.?"