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From inside the car, another woman said, “Hey, there,” and smiled at him.
“Hi.”
“See you later,” London said.
“Oh, yeah you will,” her friend responded. “I get the pictures now.”
“Go home.”
Her friend winked and closed the door.
“You don’t have a jacket?” he asked. How was she not freezing?
“We went from door to car, car to door. Plus, a coat would ruin this fabulous look.”
“You look amazing, but let’s get inside before you turn into a popsicle.”
Her smile widened. “If I’m a popsicle, you might want to take a lick.”
“I want to do that anyway.” He put an arm around her and pulled her close, allowing her to take some of his warmth as they walked up the sidewalk to her door. She took a key out of her impossibly tiny purse and unlocked the door.
Once inside, he was bombarded with noise. “What the hell?”
“I thought I told you I live in a co-op. We have artists and bands. There’s usually someone working on something.”
“Do they all live here?”
“Um. No. Not really. They kind of come and go. Most of them aren’t permanent.”
It made him wonder why she was permanent. Why she chose to live here.
“This way,” she said, tugging him down the hall. She unlocked another huge metal door.
“Wow.” The space was pretty big. Totally open concept. She had easels and canvases and supplies everywhere. A ragged couch sat against one wall with a coffee table. But the rest of the space was clearly dedicated to art.
“Let me take your jacket.”
He took his jacket off and handed it to her. He went to one of the easels and studied the sketch on the canvas. It was little more than circles and lines.
“Do you want something to eat or drink?”
“I’m good.” He tore his gaze away from her workspace and refocused on her. “You are fucking beautiful.”
Her face softened as she stepped closer. She reached up and stroked his beard. Everything about her was so beautiful, he was afraid to touch her. Like a perfectly-formed piece of glass. She looked delicate, even though he knew better. He’d touched the toned muscles of her body.
The fluidity of the dress was deceiving. With a hand on his shoulder, she removed her shoes, which dropped her a couple of inches in height.
“My bedroom’s upstairs,” she whispered. “We better hurry. It’s pretty warm in here and you don’t want your popsicle to melt.”
“At least not until I get to fully enjoy it.”
She turned and he followed as she led the way up the metal stairs. The bedroom—if you could call it that—was more open space. She stood in front of the bed and slid the straps of her dress off her shoulders. With a little shimmy, the dress pooled at her feet. She wore nothing but a small pair of flesh-colored panties. She crooked her finger and he moved in.
He skated his hands over her smooth skin and cupped her jaw to angle her face for a kiss. He touched his lips to hers and licked into her mouth slowly. She moaned and pressed her body against his. If they were going to keep this casual, he was going to make sure he enjoyed every moment he had with her.
“Too many clothes,” she murmured against his lips.
“No rush,” he responded. Then he picked her up and laid her back on the mattress before kissing his way down her body. He hadn’t exaggerated when he said he wanted to lick her all over. This would be a night they’d both remember.
