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“I don’t.”
“I bet you’ve thought about getting one, though.” I imagine it would be something small. Not like mine.
Ruby shrugs. “If I did it would have to be somewhere I could hide it.”
“Like your hip?” I tap the spot with a finger, then quickly retract my hand when she jumps a little.
“I guess, and then what’s the point of wearing art if no one else gets to see it?”
“You’d see it every day, and I’m sure someone would get to see it, eventually.”
“But only when I’m wearing a bikini, or maybe not even then.”
“Or when you’re naked,” I supply.
Ruby leans in a little closer, until her chest is an inch from mine. She has to tip her chin up in order to maintain eye contact. If I didn’t have a better handle on my hormones I might be tempted to lean down and kiss her. But my dick is not in control of my brain right now. Mostly.
Her voice comes out low and sultry. “You realize this is the second time you’ve referenced me being naked since I’ve been here.”
“Are you keeping track?”
She fingers the strap of her tank. “I’m just noting your apparent obsession with me being naked.”
“I’m just providing helpful suggestions; you’re the one making it about nudity.”
She scoffs and backs up a step, which is unfortunate, I could’ve sworn I felt her nipples brush my chest a second ago. Or maybe that’s wishful thinking on my part. It’s not as if I’m going to say no to her if she happens to make a move. I just don’t think I should be the one to make the move being that I assaulted her in a hallway and just moved her into my condo.
“You’re putting an awful lot of thought into a tattoo I’m never going to get.”
“Never say never.”
“I hate needles and I have no interest in letting someone I don’t know put their hands that close to my . . . my . . .”
“Your?” I prompt.
She ducks her head and mumbles, “My special place.”
I laugh. “Your special place?”
“Shut it.” She pushes on my chest and I grab her hand.
“You can do better than that.” I should really stop, because this is its own special brand of torment for my cock, but I really want to hear her say something dirty.
“You mean like my who-ha? Lady garden? Love tunnel, Precious flower? Or do you mean slit.” She drags out the s, then runs her tongue across her bottom lip. “No, not slit, you’re probably more of a pussy lover, aren’t you?”
“Fuckin’ right I am.” Maybe I don’t give a shit about complications. I’m still holding her wrist, and she’s not making a move to get away. I bow my head, inches away from that sexy, naughty mouth. Her eyes lift to mine and her lips part. She wants this. Fuck it.
I’m about to take it when my goddamn phone rings. It’s enough to break the tension. Ruby steps back, eyes darting away, head dropping, as I mutter a curse and check the contact. It’s my father. “I have to take this.”
“Of course.” Her hand flutters to her throat and she gives me a nervous smile. I answer the call and walk across the room, to the office, adjusting my hard-on, which has returned with a vengeance. I rubbed one out in the shower, but it looks like I’m going to have to do that again after I go to bed.
My conversation with my father is brief and unnecessary as far as I’m concerned. When I return to the living room I half expect her to have disappeared into her room for the night on account of my behavior. She hasn’t. Instead she’s reclining in her dilapidated lounger balancing a cup of Tiramisu on her stomach. A second dessert sits on the coffee table in front of the couch. I assume it’s for me.
“I figured I earned all my stars so I was allowed to have dessert. But I waited for you, just to make sure.”
I get another one of her impish grins, which is a relief. I could’ve made things awkward if I’d let my dick take control again. “You probably deserve both of these.” I drop my phone on the coffee table, beside my dessert and flop down on the couch. “Sorry about that. Last minute pre-trip conversations.”
“Everything okay?” she asks.
“Yeah. My father likes to micromanage.”
“That seems to be a pretty common father trait,” Ruby says.
“Sounds like you’re familiar with that.”
“There’s a reason I’m here and he lives in Rhode Island. Well, one of the reasons, anyway.” She smiles and drops her gaze. “So you and Armstrong are pretty close?”
It’s an abrupt change of topic, clearly talking about her father is as unpleasant for her as is talking about mine right now. “We went to the same prep school. Our parents spent a lot of time with each other, so it sort of forced us together, if that makes sense.” Armstrong and I are close in some respects, but he does a lot of things that irk me. If I had to work with him I’d probably punch him in the face. Often. He’s an overbearing prick at the best of times.
Ruby cocks her head to the side, like she’s seeking the deeper meaning in my tone. “Are you in the wedding party?”
“I am. So are you, aren’t you?”
“I’m Amie’s maid of honor. I’m surprised I didn’t meet you at the engagement party, before the uh . . . bathroom run-in.”
“I was tucked away in a corner, not feeling all that well most of the evening. I guess we’ll be spending a lot of time together when the wedding plans get underway.”
“Mmm. That we will.”
Now it’s my turn to assess her tone. “You don’t seem all that excited.”
“About the wedding?” Ruby lifts one shoulder. “It’s just really fast. I mean, I guess when you know, you know, but Amie has never been one to jump into things, well not this kind of thing, so this feels a little . . . rushed.”
Armstrong is an intense person. When he sees something he wants, he goes after it, not always considering the rashness of his actions. In the past it’s created some conflict, particularly with my brother Lexington, as they often seem to have an affinity for the same type of women. My other brother, Griffin, is the only one of the three of us with a stable relationship history. But then he’s the oldest, so that makes sense, I suppose. “You’ve told Amalie this?”
Her expression becomes incredulous. “Of course not. I’m not going to rain on her parade. I’m probably just being overprotective. We’ve been friends for a long time. I just want her to be happy.”
“And you think she is?”
“She seems that way.”
“But—” I prompt.
“But nothing, I guess. I’ll support her no matter what, even if dealing with Armstrong’s mother is going to give me an ulcer.”
I laugh. “Gwendolyn can be challenging.”
“Any tips you might have would be greatly appreciated.”
“Don’t let her smell your fear.”
Ruby snorts. “Awesome. Thanks. So she’s exactly like a tarantula.”
She dips her spoon into her dessert and daintily brings it to her mouth, full lips parting. She moans her appreciation. “This is ridiculously delicious.”
“They have the best desserts.”
“I’d forgo the actual dinner part and just order six of these next time.” She digs her spoon in and takes a much larger, more decadent bite. Her head falls back and her eyes drift close. “Seriously, Bancroft. This is amazing.”
