Page 19 of ClickBack

The television is running highlights with the sound off. I cut it as I pass.

“I thought we were putting on a movie.”

“That was before you agreed to come upstairs.”

“So the movie was a lie.”

“An option.”

“A lie with plausible deniability.” She sets her bag on the table, and her bracelet clicks against the wood. Then she takes off her glasses and lays them folded next to the bag, and that tidy little motion gets to me worse than the shorts did. “You planning to stand over there all night?”

“No.”

“Good.”

I cross the room and she meets me before I get there, her fist closing in the front of my shirt. The kiss outside Carver’s had surprise in it. This one knows exactly why she got in her car.

I get an arm around her waist and bring her up against me. My hand goes under that open blouse to the warm skin of her back, and both of hers go under my shirt, palms flat on my stomach. I’m careful with her. I’ve been careful with people smaller than me my whole life, and that’s nearly everybody.

“I’m not going to break,” she tells me.

“Wasn’t worried about that.”

“Then what are you waiting for?”

I stop waiting.

Her blouse slips from her shoulders. She helps me get it down her arms, then drops it over the sectional. The tank follows. When she starts on my shirt, I bend so she can pull it over my head without a fight. Her laugh catches as she gets a full look at me.

I’m used to people looking. I’m less used to standing still while they take their time. Giselle lays her hand against my ribs and follows a line of ink with one finger, her other palm flattening against my stomach. I watch her instead of reaching for anything.

“You’re beautiful,” she says.

For a moment I have no answer. She says it so easily. No laugh afterward, no look up to see whether it worked. I wait for the familiar pleasure of knowing a woman likes what she sees, but this makes me oddly conscious of my face. I want to smile at her. I also want to look away, which is ridiculous after how hard I worked to get her looking at me. I settle for touching her, grateful to have something to do with my hand.

I tilt her face toward mine. “Say that again when I’m inside you.”

Her smile widens. “That mouth.”

I kiss her with it. She arches into my hand as I unfasten her bra, and once it’s gone, I lower my head. Her breast fills my palm. I take her nipple into my mouth, feel it tighten against my tongue, and hear the first unguarded sound she’s given me tonight.

“Jarrett.”

I lift my head enough to see her face. Her eyes open. She looks directly at me while I go back to her, gentler with my teeth this time, then drawing harder when her hand settles against the back of my head.

“Jarre-ett.”

My dick strains against my jeans. I’ve spent the whole afternoon trying not to imagine what those shorts look like coming off. Now she helps me with the fastening, and I ease her onto the sectional while I work them down with her underwear. She raises her hips, lets me take both, then looks at the clothes in my hand.

“Those cost too much to land on the floor.”

I put them on the cushion beside her.

“Thank you.”

“Anything else?”

Her gaze drops to my belt and comes back up. “Eventually.”