Wound Up (3 page)

The minute the doors started to slide shut, he rounded on her. “For the record? Just because I’m slowing this down a little doesn’t mean I’m not desperate for you. We clear?”

She dropped her purse and took an involuntary step back as he closed in, wove his hands through her hair and descended on her mouth with obvious intent. All she could do was grip his jacket and hold on.

Justin owned her mouth, his tongue delving inside hers with breath-stealing eroticism. He tasted of spearmint mouthwash. He felt like the embodiment of temptation. He feasted on her, a man starving for her and only her. It was too much and not enough.

She gasped and arched into his hand when he cupped her breast and stroked a thumb over one aching nipple. Then he grabbed her ass and pulled her into his erection. His arousal was contagious. She was tinder to his flame and her body went up in a flash of female heat. A desperate moan escaped her tenuous control.

He swallowed the sound.

Their harsh breathing and sharp gasps filled her ears.

The elevator slid to a stop.

Justin lifted his head to wordlessly stare down at her.

The doors started to close.

He glanced over and hit the button to hold them open.

“I thought you were hungry,” she said softly.

“I might have been wrong.”

His stomach chose that moment to growl. He cursed.

“Forget breakfast. The sooner we get you fed, the sooner we can...” Heat burned across her cheeks.
Damn fair complexion.

The skin of his thumb was slightly rough as he caressed her cheek. “We’re both adults, Grace. Unless you’re talking about a Monopoly marathon, I would imagine we’re on the same page.”

“Yay, adulthood,” she whispered.

He grinned. Whatever bothered him earlier had disappeared. “Yay, adulthood, indeed.” Swooping low, he grabbed her purse in one hand and settled the other on her waist. “Let’s go, beautiful.”

Grace stepped out of the elevator and followed him across the concrete pad. She could give herself this one night. On Monday she’d start her two-week practicum, the last thing she was required to complete in order to earn her diploma. Then she’d start her life in Baltimore. She’d be free. So, yeah, she would enjoy tonight. Maybe she could talk Justin into grabbing something at a drive-through so they could get to Monopoly faster. She wondered if he’d chosen the long-running game for a reason.

She could only hope.

3

N
AVIGATING
FIRST
THE
parking garage’s hairpin turns and then Seattle’s waterfront traffic, Justin’s mind wandered over the woman in the borrowed Camaro’s passenger seat. The fact that she had let him take the lead had been appealing at first. It only became an issue when she didn’t offer to drive or take him to her place. What was he going to do? He couldn’t take her to his apartment. A hotel he could afford would seem sleazy. A hotel he
couldn’t
afford was irresponsible. He could ask her if she was interested in taking this to her place, but that seemed overtly presumptuous, even in the face of their conversation. There was always the chance Levi would let Justin use his pad, but that felt worse than a cheap hotel. He supposed he might—

“What sounds appealing?”

He couldn’t stop the tightening of his hands on the steering wheel any more than he could change his immediate response. “You.”

Her sultry laugh nearly undid him. “I was thinking more along the lines of food, like drive-through versus restaurant.”

Heart pounding out a tribal rhythm in his brain, he chanced a glance at her. He nearly blew a vein. Her eyes were radiant in the streetlights, her skin nearly translucent. She nibbled her lower lip. Her palms were rubbing up and down her thighs, and he doubted she even realized it.

“I’m going to wreck this car if you don’t stop looking at me like that,” he murmured, returning his attention to the road.

“Like what?”

He grinned and shook his head. “Same way you used to look at me in class, making me forget what I was lecturing on.” Reaching across the console, he fished for her hand, found it and brought it to his lips. Her skin was soft and smelled of shea butter and vanilla. “You used to make me wonder how you’d taste if I said ‘to hell with it all’ and kissed you in class.”

Her hand tightened slightly around his. “Why didn’t you?”

“Mostly? I needed the job. But there was also the other part of me, the curious part that wondered what might happen if we ever crossed paths outside of the university, where we had a chance to let things play out without being worried about the rules.”

“I suppose now’s the time to satisfy your curiosity. And mine.”

He glanced at her, and all the blood in his brain dove south. “You’ve eaten dinner, but did you have dessert?”

“No.”

“There’s this great little dessert place in the market district. It might be crowded, but it’s worth the wait if you’re game.”

“Sounds wonderful.” She shifted toward him, resting on her hip. “How long have you danced at Beaux Hommes?”

He shrugged. “I started when I was twenty, so ten years.”

“Wow.”

“Why?” He chanced a quick glance at her as he wove through traffic.

“I just wondered how long I have to do penance for not realizing you danced there—and for not coming into the club and watching you sooner. Looks like I’ve got a decade to beat myself about the head and shoulders.”

A short bark of laughter escaped him. “Enjoyed it that much, did you?” Spindly fingers of unease skittered along his spine. He would have preferred to keep his dancing and the club out of whatever happened between them.

Shoving her hair off her forehead, she nodded. “I enjoyed it way more than is probably legal in most states.”

“Careful, Ms. Cooper. We can’t afford to have the club shut down.” He pulled into the café’s parking lot and lucked into a space at the very front as another car left. “Out of curiosity, what would the charge have been?”

She didn’t hesitate. “Unadulterated lust compounded by indecent thoughts in a public place.”

The grin that stole over Justin was absolute. “You’re quick.”

This time she was the one who shrugged. “I’ve been suffering long enough to know.”

Hand on the door handle, he paused. “Suffering?”

“Three years, Justin.” Soft words in the car’s semilit interior. “For three years I’ve watched you and laughed with you and wanted you. Remember when you had us get up, one at a time, to defend our theses? I bombed it because I couldn’t stop staring at you. You were kind, and didn’t call me out for my horrible delivery. I liked you even more for that, and I couldn’t stop wondering if you were half as compelled as I was to skip class and play doctor.” She smiled, the look somehow bittersweet. “I won’t pretend it wasn’t that way. Not now. Not anymore.”

His heart lurched. “No. No more pretending.” Drawing a deep breath, he pushed the door open. “Food first. Talk second.” He glanced back. “And we’ll discuss the specific terms of Monopoly.”

“Deal.” She slipped out of the car and met him at the door.

Taking her hand was entirely natural. He silently led her inside and snagged the first available table. A waitress was there in a heartbeat, and she immediately started to flirt with Justin, irritating him. The last thing he wanted was Grace to think he was an unconscionable jerk who had no respect for his date.

Date.

And that’s really what this was. It had started as something different and evolved into him sitting across a table from her, watching her, wanting her. That last hadn’t changed.

“Sir?” The waitress twirled her pen. “Does anything here sound...appetizing?”

Reaching across the table, he took Grace’s hand and met her eyes when he answered. “Yeah, something here is just about perfect, but she’s not on your menu.”

Grace blushed, charming him to the core.

He lifted her hand to his mouth and kissed her knuckles. “I’ll have a turkey club, no mayo, and fries. Grace?”

“I didn’t read the menu.”

“Do you like vanilla?”

“Yes.”

“Do you trust me?”

She watched him, searching his eyes before answering. “Yes.”

“My date and I will have the crème brûlée with fresh fruit. Just one spoon. Thanks.”

“Sure.” The waitress flounced away.

“She seems a bit disappointed you’re here with someone,” Grace said on a small smile.

“Yeah, well, she’s alone in her disappointment.”

“Kind of you to say.” Grace traced her thumb over the heel of Justin’s hand, then opened her mouth and closed it.

“Something wrong?”

“What’s going on here, Justin?”

“What do you mean?”

She tilted her head, gesturing to the café. “This.”

“Shockingly, people are eating.” He leaned forward. “And we’re going to join them.”

Huffing, she shook her head. “That’s not what I meant and you know it.”

Justin didn’t let go of her hands. Instead, he waited to speak until she looked at him. “We’re finally sitting in a restaurant holding hands and sharing a meal, no ethics clauses clouding the view. We’re exploring what might happen when everything else is peeled away and it’s just us.”

Her breath caught and her fingers tightened around his. “And what might happen?”

“Whatever we both consent to. Nothing more. Nothing less.”

“I’m not going to be in Seattle much longer, Justin. I don’t want serious. All I want is to...play.”

Grinning at her, he shook his head. “You have a thing for board games?”

“Not until about thirty minutes ago.”

Ignoring the disapproving glances, he leaned over the table and kissed her gently before settling back in his chair. “Which piece do you want to be?”

“All of them, and more than once.”

Her husky answer wound him up. Lust and longing and sexual hunger created a volatile cocktail of need that swam through him. “I promise you’ll pass ‘Go’ more than once.”

She grinned and shook her head. “I can’t believe we’re sitting here sexing up an eighty-year-old board game.”

“And I find it strangely attractive that you know how old the game is.”

“One of my useless pieces of trivia gleaned from years of...” She trailed off.

“Years of what?” he pressed.

She took a moment to meet his gaze. “Just a lot of lonely years.”

The waitress slid his sandwich on the table and refilled their drinks before leaving.

“Want a bite?” Justin asked, taking his hand away from hers to pick up the sandwich.

She shook her head as if to clear it. “No, thanks.”

“Ah. Holding out for dessert. I knew you were my kind of woman.”

“We’ll see about that.” She reached over and took a fry. “They’re hot.”

“Consider me forewarned,” he said softly.

Her eyes darkened. “How in the hell did you just make a single french fry sexy?”

“Sweetheart, I didn’t.
You
did.” He took a bite of the sandwich and chewed slowly, watching her.

“You’re killing me, Smalls.”

He paused, sandwich halfway to his mouth. “You’re a fan of
The Sandlot
?”

“You just earned major points for actually recognizing where that quote comes from.”

“What about you?”

She shrugged, pushing her hair over her shoulder. “My mom wasn’t the most involved mother. I grew up believing
Scooby-Doo
was the evening news, and if I could find a book to lose myself in? Well, that was the best of all. You’ll be stunned to learn I’ve been a pirate, a mercenary, a vampire, a steampunk inventor and, on more than one occasion, a damsel in distress.”

He licked salt off his finger. “You don’t strike me as distressed.”

“No, I’m not.” She shrugged. “I’ve never been that woman.”

“Want to know my other favorite quote from that movie? ‘Anyone who wants to be a can’t-hack-it pantywaist who wears their mama’s bra, raise your hand.’”

She laughed. “I forgot about that one!”

The sound of her laughter slid through him like some kind of chemical reaction, pulverizing common sense until he was nothing but a mass of desire. “Grace,” he said, choked.

Watching him, she reached over and slid the plate away and flagged the waitress. “Can we get our dessert?”

“Was there something wrong with your sandwich?” the young girl asked.

“No,” Grace answered. “We’re just anxious to share dessert.”

“Very anxious,” Justin quietly added.

The waitress rolled her eyes but took the half-eaten sandwich away.

Lacing their fingers together, he was surprised at how small her hand seemed in his.

“Justin?”

He met her stare, letting everything he felt show in his eyes. “Every time you came into class, every time you stopped by my office with research notes or questions on theory or treatment options, every time we ran into each other on campus—I knew you were smarter and more driven than any of the other students. You were special. There were obstacles, boundaries I wasn’t willing to push. Those are gone. I want you.”

The waitress set the crème brûlée between them. “Enjoy.”

Justin didn’t let go of Grace’s hand. Instead, he picked up the spoon with his free hand and scooped up a small bit of the creamy dessert and held it out. “Bite.” A statement, not a question.

She complied without any hesitation, her lips closing over the spoon, her eyes fluttering shut in absolute bliss.

A rush of heat flooded his groin, and his cock kicked against his jeans.

“That’s delicious,” she murmured, licking her lips.

He leaned over and tasted the sweetness from her mouth.

Her eyes flared before closing again.

She tasted decadent, rich and smooth with a hint of crisp, caramelized sugar.

It was the best taste he’d ever had on his tongue.

Taking the spoon from him, she set it down and retrieved a strawberry. She presented the meatiest part of the fruit, tracing his lips with it, teasing, before she let him take a bite.

Justin realized he was going to cause a scene when he stood up and the world caught sight of the undeniable erection pounding against the waistband of his jeans.

“Jeez. Get a room,” someone nearby muttered.

Annoyed someone would disrespect Grace, he started to whip around and address the speaker.

Grace squeezed his fingers, stopping him.

“That’s a fabulous idea,” she said, so softly he thought he must have misunderstood.

“Sorry?”

She met his gaze without flinching. “I said, that’s a fabulous idea.”

“Getting a room?” he asked stupidly.

“Yes, Justin.” She leaned over and nipped his bottom lip before whispering, “And make it somewhere nearby.”

He let go of her hand to flip the check over as he dug out his wallet. He dropped enough to cover the bill and tip, grabbed Grace’s hand and hauled her out of the restaurant.

She laughed as she followed. “It doesn’t have to be a fifty-yard dash.”

Opening the car door for her, he muttered, “The first time, it probably will be. After that? Monopoly is all about strategy and longevity, baby.” He met her wide-eyed gaze. “This is what you’re getting into with me—all night. No compromises on pleasure given or received. No apologies tomorrow. We talk about what happens next after that.”

“Take me to breakfast and you’ve got a deal.”

“Done.”

Justin did his best to walk to the driver’s side calmly.

He was pretty sure he failed.

* * *

J
USTIN
WAS
ALREADY
backing the car out of the parking space before Grace could buckle her seat belt.

He sped down the 519, his eyes scanning the buildings as they flashed by. “If you don’t have any objections, I thought the Best Western in Pioneer Square would be nice.”

“Sounds perfect to me,” she said, voice husky.

Justin’s grip tightened on the wheel as he sped up. “You’re making me crazy. The voice thing? It’s going to push me over the edge.”

“Can’t help it,” she murmured.

He glanced at her quickly. “Seriously?”

“Happens when I get turned on, I guess.”

“You guess?”

“It’s never happened before.”

“Why now?”

She laughed. “You seduced me, Justin. From the moment you stood in front of me at the club to the strawberry kiss, you...you... Yeah. You seduced me.”

His jaw tightened. “I haven’t talked you into anything you don’t want to do, have I?”

“Considering this is a mutual agreement, there’s been no ‘talking me into’ anything.”

He stepped on the brakes hard and whipped the car into a narrow space in front of the hotel. “Wait here. I’ll get a room.”