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The shirt slips off of him. “Too cocky? Is that a thing?”
My eyes dart over his muscular chest and his abs. “Is what a thing?”
He huffs out a laugh. “Put on my shirt.”
I toss my stained blouse onto my desk before I take his dress shirt in my hand. “I’m leaving as soon as my blouse is cleaned and dried.”
“That works.”
Staring at him, I button his shirt up. “Why did you come here tonight?”
“I came for a kiss.”
My heart flutters in my chest at his admission. “You came here just to kiss me?”
He answers me with a soft brush of his lips over mine. “I’d go anywhere just to kiss you.”
Our kiss intensifies when his hand finds my waist. He pulls me closer to him, pressing his body to mine.
I feel how erect he is. I hear his need in the moan that escapes him when I tug his bottom lip between my teeth.
“It’s time to go,” he breathes the words into my mouth. “Now, Eden.”
I don’t protest. I don’t want to. All I do want is to be back in his bed.
Chapter 20
Eden
If someone had told me a month ago that I’d be standing in Dylan Colt’s apartment on Fifth Avenue wearing nothing but one of his dress shirts and my lingerie, I would have laughed in their face.
I thought Dylan was part of my past.
I admit that I held out hope that our paths would cross again at some point, but I gave up that fairytale dream ten years ago.
“Your blouse and skirt are in the trusty hands of my dry cleaner.” Dylan walks into his bedroom. He’s still wearing his suit jacket, his trousers, and a smile.
He garnered a few second glances on the walk from my office to here.
You can’t blame anyone for staring at him. He looks like a Greek God in that suit without a shirt on.
“When will I get them back?” I tug on the bottom of his dress shirt.
He noticed a few drops of sauce on the front of my light blue skirt while we were riding the elevator up to his place.
Before we reached his floor, he had his dry cleaner on the phone.
He ordered me to drop the skirt once we were inside his apartment. After that, he took off out the door again with my sauce-stained clothes in his hand.
“Tomorrow morning.” He rakes me with a heated glance. “You want to fuck me.”
Crossing my arms over my chest, I roll my eyes. “What is it with you? Do you use that line on all the women you sleep with?”
They’re my words, but they sting.
I know this arrangement is temporary. Once I’m back in Buffalo, Dylan will be a fond memory of my past again.
This time that memory will include phenomenal sex, but it will still just be a memory.
