Sweet Obsession: Windy City Kink, Book 1 (9 page)

“So,” she said, “I’ll need a substantial deposit upfront from you.”

Again, he gave her that steady, inscrutable look. “I’m good for the money, Sasha.”

She nodded. “I know you are. I don’t mean to imply that you’re not trustworthy. It’s just business.”

“Of course.” He lifted one shoulder. “It’s not a problem. Just tell me how much you want.”

“Well, I haven’t even done estimates so I don’t know right now.”

“I’ll give you a check anyway. Just as a show of good faith.”

“That’s not necessary—” But he’d already stood and walked past the long kitchen counter and into the room he’d showed her was his office. He returned with a checkbook and he sat back at the table, pushing his plate aside. With his lefty scrawl, he wrote a check, then ripped it from the book and handed it to her.

“You really don’t have to…” She glanced at it. “Holy Shatner. Jack, this is way too much.” He’d written a check for a hundred thousand dollars.

“Whatever. I want this to be nice. It’ll cost more than that.”

It might. Most of her jobs weren’t even close to that much.

But that would cover all her debts.

“I haven’t even done anything yet,” she said quietly. “I haven’t given you any design concepts. You don’t even know if you’ll like what I come up with.”

Their eyes met. The air between them shimmered. “I will,” he said firmly.

Unspoken questions backed up in her brain. This was not how her business deals usually went down. And she was fairly sure this wasn’t how he did business either, handing out money to a near stranger for absolutely nothing. She could take that check and disappear.

“We need contracts in writing,” she whispered, her gaze still snared by his intense, dark one. Her body tightened and her pussy squeezed.

“It’s okay. I don’t need that. Are you done eating? We can go outside so you can take your pictures or whatever it is you need to do.”

She nodded. “Yes. I’m done.” She hadn’t finished all her fries, but there was no way she could eat any more just then. Except, then he said the magic words.

“Oh wait. I forgot about dessert.”

Her sweet sensors went on alert. “Dessert?”

He gave her a lazy, knowing grin. God, did he remember everything about her? From how she liked her coffee, to her favorite cookies and hot dogs, to her sweet tooth, he was kind of…scaring her. And melting her. “Yeah. Cake.”

“What kind of cake?” She almost held her breath. If he said chocolate, she might have to punch him…did he remember
everything
?

“Piña colada.”

A small moan escaped her. And it wasn’t just at the cake. It was because, yes, he apparently did remember everything, including her love of pineapple and coconut. “Oh.”

He rose and carried their plates over to the counter, then pulled the covered container from the refrigerator. He set it on the counter and removed the lid, then cut pieces with a large knife and laid them onto plates. He added forks and returned, carrying the dessert.

She looked down at the moist cake piled with luscious whipped cream, bits of pineapple and coconut. Even though her insides had tightened up and left no more room for her meal, she thought she could probably eat the cake.

“Is that too big a piece?” he asked, sitting again. And once again, his leg brushed hers as he shifted closer to the table.

She swallowed. “It’s too small,” she joked.

“Yeah, that’s what Eric’s last girlfriend said.”

She was so befuddled about what was going on, it took a second for his words to penetrate the fog in her brain, and then her head snapped up to look at him. “What…oh!” And she couldn’t help it, she fell back in her chair, laughing. “Oh my God, Jack.”

He laughed too and picked up some cake with his fork. “That’s what I heard,” he said with a shrug and a glint in his eye. “It’s not true?”

“I wouldn’t know!”

Their eyes met with that small jolt of heat, that energy sizzling back and forth between them, amusement joining them together in a way that went deeper than just the physical connection that—she sighed—was still there, much as she hated to admit it.

“Thank fuck,” he muttered.

She stared at him.

“Eat your cake,” he ordered gently. “Then we’ll go outside.”

She nodded and obediently dug her fork into the treat. It was so good. She was still addled but finished her cake and set the fork down. “That was amazing.” She patted her stomach. “I might need a nap now.”

His eyes darkened. “That could be arranged.”

In a bed with Jack. Images assaulted her, more memories. Rolling around naked, sheets twisted around their bodies, his hands all over her. How incredibly hot it had been having sex with him. Maybe because he’d been her first, and she’d been so horny and hot for him, but nothing had ever, ever compared to being with him. Heat washed down through her and her lips parted involuntarily.

“Fuck, don’t look at me like that,” he said roughly. “Or you’ll be in my bed faster than you can say ‘ride me’.”

She dropped her gaze and snapped her mouth shut. She swallowed, flustered and mixed up and overheated.

“Come on.” His voice still rasped as he pushed back from the table. “Leave the dishes,” he added as she went to pick up her empty plate. “Let’s go outside. You’ll need your jacket.”

He held the jacket for her as she slid her arms into it, then turned her by her shoulders and started to fasten the buttons. The brush of his hands across her breasts, even through the jacket, was too much for her, and she batted them away. “I can do that,” she snapped.

He stepped back, his lips twitching, his hands in the air. “Fine.”

She wrapped her scarf loosely around her neck and picked up her briefcase, which held her camera and tape measure and notepad. She followed him outside, and as soon as they stepped out, the wind had her hair all over the place, in her face. She tried to hold it back, but it was hopeless.

“Hold on,” Jack said and disappeared inside. He returned a moment later with a thick rubber band, but instead of handing it to her, he stood behind her, gathered her hair back and fastened it into a ponytail. She was sure it was all messy and bumpy without a hairbrush, but his fingers stroking through her hair teased and tantalized her, made her shiver.

“Thanks.”

She tried to ignore her pattering heart and focus on work. She looked around the space and began to take photos. The beauty of digital images was that she could take as many as she wanted and just delete the ones she didn’t need later, ensuring she had what she’d need. After she’d taken pictures, she pulled out the tape measure. “Can you help me get some measurements?” she asked Jack.

“Sure.” He took the end of the measuring tape and she gave directions, jotting down numbers and sketching things out roughly. They spent the better part of an hour out there, measuring, throwing out ideas, chatting a little about the weather and Jack being back in Chicago.

When they finally returned inside, the warmth surrounded her and she realized her hands were frozen. She flexed and unflexed her fingers and Jack noticed. He moved closer and took her hands in his, which amazingly were warm. “You must have good circulation,” she said.

He made a funny noise. “Surprising, since all my blood is somewhere else.”

Once more her jaw loosened and she gazed up at him. He just smiled and shook his head, rubbing her hands.

“I know what you need,” he said. “A cup of hot coffee in front of the fire.”

“Oh…I should go…I’ve got what I need…”

Her protests were feeble and even she knew it. Jack released one of her hands but held the other, and once more led her into the living room. He flicked a switch on the gas fireplace which flared to life. It was a bright glow of warmth compared to the dull gray of the sky outside.

“Take your jacket off and have a seat,” he said. “I’ll make some coffee.”

And she did. She knew it wasn’t a good idea, but she was shivering with cold and the fire was so warm and bright, the curved sofa so inviting. She smoothed her palm over a kitten-soft throw lying on the arm of the couch, and picked it up and wrapped it around her before she sat and snuggled into a corner. The fire made her realize her cheeks were cold too.

She studied the room as she waited. Although it was tastefully decorated, it didn’t feel like a room where Jack spent a lot of time. A few books and magazines sat on the low, square coffee table, but none sat open as if he’d been reading them, and the blanket now wrapped around her had been neatly folded. There were so many windows, there wasn’t room for any pictures on the walls, only sconces on the white pillars between glass, and there were no framed photographs sitting on end tables.

Jack appeared, holding two steaming mugs. “Here you go,” he said. “Wrap your hands around this.”

Another flash of memory. Had he said those exact words to her before? Because the image that came to mind was her wrapping her hands around…him. She almost hyperventilated, trying to catch her breath from that thought.

She took the mug and did as he suggested, because it was so nice and warm against her chilled skin. She sipped the coffee, once more rich and dark but smooth with the bit of cream she liked.

“You look like you’re warming up,” he said as he sat beside her. Not too close.
Not close enough.
“So do you have what you need to get started?”

“I think so.” Her creativity had been sparked and ideas floated around in her head, visuals of what she could build out there. “I just wish I knew more about what you want.”

He shrugged, leaned back and crossed one ankle over the other knee. “I think you know enough.”

Once again she felt baffled at what was going on. He’d handed her a check for a huge amount of money and basically given her carte blanche to do whatever she wanted out there. And he was undeniably flirting with her. “Jack.” She wasn’t sure how to put what she wanted to ask. “Are you really just looking for landscaping design?”

Chapter Seven

Jack regarded Sasha while he thought about how to answer that question. Holy hell, she was so sweet and beautiful, wrapped up in that blanket, staring at him with those big blue eyes. Her hair was still up in that God-awful ponytail he’d done. Without thinking much, he rose off the couch and headed to his bedroom, where he retrieved a hairbrush from the bathroom.

Back in the living room, he sat down again beside her, closer this time, one foot under him, the other on the floor. “Turn a little,” he murmured, nudging her shoulder and hip.

She eyed the brush in his hand. “I can do it.”

“Let me do it for you.” He kept his voice gentle but firm.

With a questioning look over her shoulder, she shifted to give him her back, and he carefully removed the rubber band from her hair, trying not to pull. Even so, a few snarls made her twitch. “Sorry.” He worked at it a little more. “There,” he said when it was out. He started brushing, working through the tangles strand by strand.

He inhaled that scent of her hair, the warm vanilla and coconut perfume now mingled with fresh air. Close enough to feel her body relax and soften, he heard her soft sigh of pleasure and wished he could see her face. Then, hair free of tangles, he continued to stroke the brush through the silky strands, letting his hand smooth over it too. So soft. And with every gentle tug she became limp and pliant, leaning back into him.

His fingers wandered from her hair to the soft skin of her neck, then around to her throat. With his fingertips, he eased her chin up so her head fell back onto his shoulder. He dropped the brush to the carpet and used his other hand to smooth her hair back one more time, then tugged the blanket open and away from her and slid his arm around her waist. He bent his own head and nuzzled the soft skin of her neck, opened his mouth on the delicate skin there and kissed her, letting his tongue taste her. He worked his way up and down the side of her neck in slow, open-mouthed kisses, licked her ear lobe, kissed her cheek just in front of her ear.

His own eyes were heavy but he peered at her, her closed eyes, her sweetly parted lips. He rubbed his cheek gently against hers, then with more gentle pressure of his fingertips, turned her face toward him. Their mouths hovered a breath apart.

His heart hammered against his ribs and he stopped breathing.

She wasn’t resisting.

And so he closed the distance between them and kissed the corner of her mouth. One of her hands came up and covered his where it rested on her stomach and the other rested on his knee, and he kissed her again, tilting her head just a bit more for full mouth to mouth contact. She sighed into his mouth.

Oh yeah. Oh Christ, yeah. Fire raced through his veins and his dick surged behind his fly. He’d been half-hard since she’d arrived. Now he was burning for her, aching for her. Those dark erotic urges roared to life inside him, but he held them at bay. Sasha might be the perfect match for him, but he needed to take it slow.

His hand gently cupped her throat, fingers pressing her chin up and around, and she quivered in his arms. He slid his tongue into her mouth, tasting her sweetness, loving the delicate slide of her tongue against his, loving how she opened wider to him. He lifted his mouth, kissed her again, long, languid, open-mouthed kisses. He pressed his other palm to her flat stomach over the thin sweater she wore, felt her belly muscles tremble.