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The doorbell rang and my breath caught, which shocked me. Nervous. I was nervous about spending an unsupervised evening with a man. Not just any man though. Cross. He of the searing deep blue eyes and kissable mouth. And that tattoo-covered body appealed to the artist in me like nothing else ever had.
Checking my reflection one last time, I didn’t recognize the woman staring back at me. Her long salt and pepper hair was fuller and shinier than mine, her green eyes shimmered like emeralds compared to the minty green color of my own. But most of all, the woman staring back at me emanated a sensuality I had never possessed other than in action.
Sex had always come easily but it had been a long time since I’d felt sensual. Or sexy.
“You gonna open the door or do I have to whisper some magic code to get inside?”
His voice shouldn’t have startled me on the other side of the door, but I was too lost in my own thoughts and concerns. I took a deep breath and blew it out as I walked to the door and smoothed the long green dress I’d worn tonight. For Cross. I opened the door and asked, “Do you know the magic code?”
His lips quirked into a lopsided grin as his heated gaze raked over my body and made me wish I’d worn a bra. “I know the code, Moon. You look…fucking delicious.”
Cross looked beyond delicious tonight in a pair of light-colored jeans that hugged his thighs like a cowboy. I couldn’t wait to see his fine backside. He wore one of those long-sleeved t-shirts that made his already delicious muscles drool-worthy. My only complaint was that it covered up his beautiful art, though I planned to see it all.
Later.
“I’ll take it. Come on in.” I stepped back and sure, maybe it was a tad bit creepy, but I breathed in his scent. Long and deep until it was in my lungs and my brain. Every part of me. “You smell good,” I said, unable to hide my smile.
He grinned back and cut a look at me from the corner of his eyes. “Thanks.”
“What happened?” I pushed the door closed and locked it before turning back to Cross and the bruise forming on his jaw.
“Nothing worth mentioning. I’d rather talk about you in this dress.”
“I’ll let you get away with that. For now, and only because I smell sugar in that bag.” I didn’t eat refined sugar nearly as much as I wanted to and right now I didn’t know if it was Cross or the sugar making me salivate.
“Sugar and booze.”
“Magic words to these ears.” I turned my back to him and signaled him to follow me into the kitchen. I felt his eyes burn through the back of my dress. It was held together in back by nothing but a series of intricate straps.
“Damn, I love that dress.”
I turned around at that. “Thanks. It’s new.” I suddenly felt like a school girl on her first date, blushing at every little compliment. “What’s in the bag?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Cross licked his lips, eyes never leaving mine as he pulled the items from his bag.
Finally, I broke the intense stare before I lost all control and stripped down and spread across the countertop, begging Cross to have his way with me. My lips curved up. “You brought the blueberry wine!”
“It’s the canna-wine. And dairy-free pastries, in case there are any left over and Beau wants some.”
Was it possible for ovaries to explode? Because I was pretty sure that low vibrating hum in my body was the sound of my ovaries preparing for detonation. “Are you going to have any?”
“Why not? Your food usually sounds a bit weird but so far you haven’t let my taste buds down. Not even once.” His smile grew wider when his words gave me a shiver. “Dirty girl.”
“Because that’s not what you meant?” He shrugged and I rolled my eyes as I reached for the wine. “Aside from the mystery bruise, how are things?”
“Good. Still up in the air. You?”
Okay, so he didn’t want to talk. “Fine.” I poured the wine and slid a glass to him before raising my own. “To keeping things good and fair, now and forevermore.”
“Forevermore?”
I shrugged. “What? I’m feeling a bit poetic tonight. Just wait until the wine kicks in.”
“I look forward to it.” Finally, Cross tapped his glass against mine and we both drank the wine. It was cool and delicious with just a hint of pot flavor.
I drank more than half the glass and grinned up at Cross. “Delicious. Hungry yet?”
“Starved,” he said and I knew he wasn’t talking about the casserole I’d put in the oven. The way his gaze lingered like a caress all over my body was intoxicating all on its own, the wine only giving everything a radiant tint that was almost dreamlike.
