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“Fine,” Axel snarls before disconnecting.
“Good work.” Wells taps my desk and casts me a loaded stare, but I’m not interested in anymore heart-to-hearts at this juncture, so I keep on snicking my flame while staring him down. He finally sighs. “Ivy has a stomachache, so I’m keeping her upstairs with me tonight. The staff cleared out a half hour ago. Gage is getting pizza, so no need to worry about anything formal with Natasha or Celeste.”
“Thanks, Chief. Text me when Ivy falls asleep. Let me know she’s all right.”
“Will do,” he says on his way out.
After shutting everything down, I mosey out to the kitchen for a beer while I’m waiting on the pizza. When I round the corner, my jaw goes slack, as it’s prone to do when I’m faced with the vision of Celeste. More specifically, her perfectly plump ass. She’s casual tonight—jeans and a lightweight, fitted, cropped sweater. The girl knows how to accentuate her best features. That’s for sure. And always in the classiest way—nothing about her ever screams trying too hard. It’s a poise that says take it or leave it, but you’ll regret leaving. Maybe that’s just my head. See? Fucked. Up.
When I open the fridge to snag a beer, she peers over her shoulder, and for a beat, our gazes collide. Her burnt-orange sweater highlights some amber speckling in her brown eyes. Gorgeous.
“Hey,” she says. The delivery is hesitant, almost shy. Atypical.
Pulling the bottle opener out of the drawer, I parrot her greeting while running the tool along the foil and popping the top. She keeps her back to me, scanning her phone and waiting on the Keurig. I should walk away and not come back until the pizza is here and we’re surrounded by everyone else.
But I can’t. Every logical, coherent thought evaporates in her presence. Maybe Ty is right. She’s turning me into a lunatic. Case in point, I’d kill someone for a whiff of cashmere right now, which is a pussy thing to think. And maybe a little psychotic. I swig the Modelo, considering.
Fuck it.
It takes all of three seconds to close the space between us. Fast enough that she doesn’t even notice my prowling. I press myself into her back, letting my hands rest on the counter—my beer still clutched in one—and my arms bracket her in.
Her breath hitches. Fuck, I love the effect I have on her. She probably loathes it as much as I do, but at least we’re both powerless in that regard.
Using my free hand, I sweep her hair off her shoulder, granting me access to the elegant slope of her neck. She tilts her chin slightly, a subtle offering. Interesting. Played it cool the other night, but I did not misread the eagerness. My nose traces the line of her jaw, drinking in her scent. The motion has my breath cascading over her, producing a beautiful flourishing of goose bumps on that shimmery olive skin.
“It’s late for coffee, Ace,” I rasp into her ear, relishing the rise and fall of her chest.
She’s quiet for a long beat, but it’s a pacing kind of silence. Like she wants to hold the moment rather than hide from it. “I like an evening cup,” she confesses. “Caffeine doesn’t bother me.”
That little tidbit feels like a gift because I’m losing my damn mind. But I like knowing things about her. I want more. My hand moves to her stomach as we watch the coffee trickle out of the Keurig, mixing in with the cream she already put in her cup. Her sweater provides an opening, so I let my fingers crawl across her exposed skin, my palm splaying over the flat plane. She shivers from the touch, which only has me pulling her closer, showing her what she does to me.
You’re not alone, Carver.
My cock jerks against her lower back. She’s so small here in her bare feet. How could I not hold her? I bury my nose in her hair, basking in, what I now know to be, her honeysuckle scent. It complements her wildflower and cashmere skin beautifully. I may have peeked at her shampoo when she was locked in the room with Ivy earlier, in an effort to put a name to that honeysuckle aroma.
It was a perfectly logical thing to investigate. I’m a researcher. Finding answers is in my blood. It’s what I do.
Lunatic.
“Pizza’s coming,” I say, simply because I don’t want her to move. Her coffee’s done, but neither of us is budging.
“Yeah.” Her voice is so wispy right now. I wonder what she’d sound like coming apart.
Christ, I need to hear that more than I need my next breath.
“Movie night too,” she adds.
I’ll need to keep my distance during the movie, so that news isn’t so enticing. Although anyone could walk in on us here. I don’t mind that. It makes this whole encounter sexier.
Let them see.
Mine.
Bypassing the movie conversation, I switch gears to something else I’ve been thinking about. “You were counting cards the other night.”
She smiles, bright and fucking beaming. I can’t see her eyes, but her lashes bat in the most tantalizing flutter. “That’s an impossible accusation to prove.”
“Maybe so,” I concede. She’d get kicked out of a casino whether they could prove it or not. It turned me the fuck on though. “But I knew, Ace. I see you.”
