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“You’ll find something you like.” I wink and roll my shoulders back. “Cheer loud for us, Lace Face.”
“Always, Shawn Yawn.” She gives me one more look, then turns and heads for the door. She slips out into the tunnel, and I let out a breath.
I want to tell her to come back, but I know I can’t. This is a slippery slope we’ve stumbled down, and it’s all my fault.
I shouldn’t have kissed her again.
I shouldn’t have let her see how easily she affects me, but it’s too late now.
I got a taste, but now I want the whole fucking thing.
TWENTY-TWO
LACEY
I pacein front of Shawn’s apartment for five minutes before I finally have the courage to knock.
I sent him a text asking if we could talk, and he invited me over for a drink.
It’s dangerous to be here so late in the evening, but the dark sky on the way over gave me the motivation I needed to actually stand here and wait for him to open the door. If it was noon or three in the afternoon, I wouldn’t have dared.
He’s going to tell me I’m out of my mind. That this is abad ideaand something we definitelycan’t do.
But if he’s still thinking about that kiss in the supply closet like I am, I think he can be persuaded.
Shawn opens the door a second later, and he smiles when he sees me. “Lace,” he says. “Come in.”
“Thanks,” I say.
I step past him, and as I glide inside, I’m painfully aware of how short my skirt is. The velvet material barely hits the top of my thighs, and, paired with the knee-high boots I have on, I might as well not be wearing any clothes at all. I unzip my jacket and glance at him over my shoulder.
“Let me take that for you,” he says with a hoarse voice, and his eyes dart away from my ass.
He looks like he got caught doing something bad, and I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from grinning as I hand him my coat.
“Appreciate it.” I stroll into his living room and marvel at the floor-to-ceiling windows. “How was your day?”
“Long. I have a busy week. The holiday party is Wednesday night, then we leave for Cleveland on Friday.” He leans against the wall and crosses his arms over his chest. “Want to tell me why you’re here?”
“Can I have a drink?” I ask. I perch on the edge of the sofa and smile at him. I catch his gaze moving down the length of my legs before he nods and heads for the liquor cabinet.
“Whiskey again?”
“Let’s make it bourbon this time. Neat.”
“Sure. You still want three fingers?” he asks, and there’s a low tug in my belly with his question.
I smooth my hands over my skirt and get out the imaginary wrinkles. “Yes, please. I can handle it. Thanks.”
“I’m sure you can.”
Shawn makes our drinks and walks toward me. He hands me a glass and we knock them together. I take a sip and indulge in the sharp sweetness on my tongue. I wonder if it would taste better if he was the one tipping my neck back and pouring the mahogany liquid down my throat. Not stopping until my mouth was full and the liquor trailed down my neck, a mess he’d gladly lick up.
“Delicious,” I say, and I’m stalling for time.
“I know you didn’t come here just for a drink. Not when a beautiful woman like you could go to any bar in town and drink for free,” he says. He sits next to me and drapes one arm over the cushions of the couch, and the other holds his glass. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” I take another sip of my drink and set it down on the table next to me. “I have a proposition for you.”
