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“Hmmm.” Alanna reached for the bottle and tipped it toward his glass.
Sully held up a hand. “All yours. I’m driving.”
“Right. Lucky me.” She poured the rest of the bottle into her glass.
“You know your purpose so clearly,” he finished his thought. “I can’t tell you how much I admire you for that.”
Alanna leaned over the table and placed her hands over his. Her touch was fire. “You’ve got to find something, Sully,” she told him. Her blue eyes bore into his. “Something you want so bad it makes your blood burn. That’s what life is all about. What do you want?”
You.
She was so close. He could smell the rich wine on her breath, see her eyelashes flutter. She had the most adorable brown freckle on the apple of her right cheek. He didn’t think. His body reacted.
Sully Brooks went after the thing he wanted, the thing that made his blood burn. He leaned forward and covered her mouth with his.
Electricity.
He felt her lips break into a smile beneath his, and then her hand was on the back of his head, pulling him closer.
Yes. This. Forever.
Her lips tasted of wine, honey, and yearning.
He broke the kiss and pulled back.
“I should have asked first,” he breathed.
She laughed. “You’re such a nice guy!” Her eyes danced with allure. “You want to ask? Then ask.”
“Alanna, can I—”
She dragged his face to hers, their lips meeting again. This time, he pressed his tongue through her parted lips. Her tongue rose to meet his. Her fingers clawed through his hair.
“I’m hooooome!” Dede called from the front of the house.
Sully snapped backward as if… well, as if the mother of the girl he was tongue-dancing with had suddenly walked through the front door.
“Such a nice guy,” Alanna whispered to him teasingly. She licked her lips.
Oh. God. His balls ached for release.
Los Angeles.
Those two words were like antifreeze applied directly to his nuts. She was leaving tomorrow, and if all went according to her plan, she wasn’t coming back.
“That was probably a mistake,” she said as if reading his mind. “But it was a damn good mistake.”
Not for Sully. That kiss was a raindrop in the desert. A taste of bliss he knew he’d never have again.
Ch. 22 Alanna
ChipRuperttheThird’ssmirk was slimy and pleased, oozing a smug contentment that came from a long-awaited victory finally clenched.
Alanna stared at her hands, balled into fists on top of the conference room table. How had it all gone so wrong?
“Well, I suppose I’ll be taking my leave,” the arbitrator said, standing from the table. He was a fussy man, his thinning hair neatly combed forward, a little mustache arching over his upper lip. He’d been nice enough. Sympathetic, even, to her valiantly argued case.
But in the end, it hadn’t mattered. None of it had.
