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It was quieter now, mostly shopkeepers bringing things in from the sidewalk for the night and a handful of people hurrying home.
Max was leaning against the Jag, gaze watchful. Ruby had ordered takeout when they’d been seated at the table, then insisted on taking the food to the car so Max could eat while he waited.
It was a gesture so genuinely kind Roman had been left speechless, and from the way Max was looking at Ruby like she was his long-lost sister, Roman clearly wasn’t the only one who was enamored.
They got into the car and started across town. The city lights shone bright against the darkness on the other side of the car’s windows. It made the interior of the car seem like another world, as if he and Ruby were flying through space, nothing for miles but the two of them.
Their easy conversation gave way to something sensual and heavy, a kind of weighty anticipation Roman wasn’t sure he’d ever felt before.
Her thigh was only a few inches from his own, the now-familiar smell of her perfume or shampoo (both?) scenting the air just enough to make him hard. He wanted to bury his face in her hair, wanted to run his nose along her scented skin, know what her lips felt like opening under his own.
He glanced over at her, wondering if she felt it too, and saw her face in profile, her chest rising and falling quickly, like she was trying to catch her breath.
It was excruciating, and by the time Max pulled up outside Ruby’s apartment in Harlem, desire was stampeding through his veins.
“I’ll walk you up,” Roman said, reaching for the door.
“You don’t have to — ”
“Nonsense.” He wouldn’t push if she didn’t want to see him again, but he was going to soak in every second with her in the meantime. “I’ll walk you to the lobby at least, see that you get inside.”
She nodded and he got out of the car and went around to open her door.
He stepped out into the night, and he caught another whiff of jasmine, felt the brush of her arm against his stomach as she made her way past him.
He stifled a groan and followed her to the curb and up the short stoop to the door of her building.
She turned to face him. “Thank you for dinner, and for the lovely conversation. It’s been…” She sighed. “It’s been a long time since I’ve enjoyed a night out so much.”
He couldn’t take his eyes off her. He was dying to kiss her, but he didn’t want to spook her. He’d never in his life been so uncertain with a woman. “Me too.”
She hesitated, then nodded. “Well, goodnight.”
“Goodnight.” He barely managed to choke the words out around the protest being waged in his body as she turned to go.
She used her key and opened the door, started to step through it… and stopped.
His heart stuttered in his chest as she turned to face him.
“Do you… do you want to come up for some tea or something?”
14
RUBY
What was she doing?
This was bad. All kinds of bad.
Not just because she was letting him come up — because she wanted him to come up.
No, she wasdesperatefor him to come up.
Somewhere between leaving the restaurant and arriving at her apartment, the atmosphere between them had changed from one of curious conversation — the kind you had on a great first date, when the other person was genuinely interested in you and vice versa — to sexual tension so thick she could almost see it oozing between them.
It made her breath quicken, her heart beat faster.
It made her wet.
