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“What about a story where I gave a homeless man my jacket and he tried to wrestle me for my shirt?” Lucas quirked a brow and I smirked.
“Oh, you’re a good Samaritan, huh?”
“Maybe.” Finally, he shook his head, sending his soft curls dancing around his head. “The truth is I got the jacket so covered in paint that it’s completely ruined. I ended up binning it, and the half-open shirt is because I spilled the first drink I bought over there when I saw you.”
I immediately rolled my eyes as my cheeks flooded with a warmth that crept down the hollow of my neck. “Oh please.”
“I’m serious,” Lucas chuckled, and there was a surprising amount of sincerity in his voice. Somehow, I could hear every word as clearly as if it was whispered in my ear, despite the hubbub of the music and crowd around us. It made the spark of attraction all the harder to ignore.
“Why the paint?” I asked, draining my drink so quickly the ice barely melted.
“I’m an artist.” Lucas raised his hand to order another round when I suddenly gripped his bicep – and the ripple of muscle under my palm sent a thrilling jolt of heat straight through me.
“Me too!”
“You’ve got to be better than me,” Lucas chuckled, not pulling away from my touch at all. “I have the inspiration, but I lack the talent and the time to put into that talent.”
“All artists lack time,” I giggled. “I’m a Graphic Designer these days, but in my spare time, I like to paint. Nature mostly, but I love it. You?”
“Abstract,” Lucas smiled. “But my true passion is clay.”
“Oh wow!”
“I really like to get into things with my hand, sculpting and molding. It feels all the more personal, wouldn’t you agree?” Suddenly there was a flicker of intensity in those warm eyes and the heat in my cheeks increased.
“I’ve never done clay modeling,” I said, picking up my fresh drink as it was delivered. “What sorts of things have you made?”
“Pots, vases, some cups, things like that. It’s all for good fun, mostly but I’d love to sculpt something more like a statue. That I definitely don’t have time for.”
As Lucas relayed his passion for sculpting, I had difficulty focusing on everything he was saying. The way his lips moved as he spoke and the way he talked so animatedly with his strong hands had my mind racing with what else those hands could do. Any thoughts of how inappropriate that was with a stranger had long fled after that fourth drink. Everything about Lucas was warm, from his voice to his personality and I was inexplicably attracted to all of it.
Maybe it was the alcohol.
I didn’t care.
We talked long into the night, exchanging a love of art and decoration and even discussing film in terms of expression. Before long, more drinks had been consumed and the bartender rang out for the last call.
With Lucas’ help, I made it safely through the crowd and out into the cool New York City night air. I had no idea what time it was, or even how to get home from here. All I could focus on was that my time with this sexy stranger was at an end.
Walking a few feet down from the bar entrance, Lucas stayed close with his arm brushing mine on every step until we approached a few parked taxis.
“Should I get you a taxi?” Lucas asked, bringing our short walk to a stop. I turned to him, my heart pounding in my ears and the gentle wind pulling gently at my hair.
“It was really nice to meet you,” I said, unable to settle on which part of Lucas to look at.
Suddenly, in a surge of movement, Lucas wound one arm around my waist and cupped my face with the other, pulling me against his strong body. Another pulse of heat shot through me like a bolt of lightning and then, like I had desperately desired in the bar, it happened.
Lucas kissed me.
6
SCARLETT
How we made it back to Lucas’ penthouse was anyone’s guess. One kiss led to another, and then we found it impossible to keep our hands off one another. Frantic kisses in the taxi became hands desperately pulling at clothes in the elevator, and it was a wonder we made it all the way up without fucking in the elevator.
“Won’t people see?” I gasped against Lucas’ lips as the elevator doors closed, protecting us from prying eyes.
“Let them,” Lucas growled. “Isn’t it exciting?”
