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I open the door and, well, well, well… speak, or in this case think of the devil.
“You’re not asleep. Good.” She pushes the door open and walks past me. “I have a proposition for you.”
“I thought you came to apologize.” I close the door.
We’re standing where we did a few hours ago, and the air is immediately filled with tension. Sexual tension. She steps back. Again. Just like the first time tonight when she came to glare at me.
“I’m sorry about earlier. I came to…” Suddenly she looks unsure. She bites her bottom lip and shakes her head. “You know what, this is a stupid idea.”
She grabs the doorknob, but I lean in, putting my arm above her, pushing into the door, preventing her from opening it. With my front to her back, my arm looming above her head, she inhales sharply.
Her body is warm against mine, feeling too good for me to step away like a normal person would. Her scent washes over me, drawing me to lower my head and inhale more of it.
“You can’t storm out of here twice in one night, Lo. You came again, so own it. Tell me your proposition, because I’m telling you right now, sweetheart, I don’t mind being propositioned by you.”
My voice is low and full of seduction. As much as she pretends she doesn’t want me, I’m going to have her.
She breathes heavily, her back brushing my chest when she inhales. It’s not like I’m giving her the option to turn, standing like a wall behind her.
All of my self-control is required to keep me from pinning her against my door and shoving that short skirt up to her waist.
I reach around her to lock the door, and as my hand brushes her arm, I swear electricity zaps between us. It’s so potent we both freeze, our chests heaving like we’ve just run a race.
I’m not sure what London is fighting, but it takes all the willpower I’ve never known I had not to grind my pelvis into her back.
Then the woman I got to know is back and she snarls, “For fuck’s sake, step away if you want to hear me out.”
I take that step, because while I’m a bastard with very few scruples in my darkened soul, I’m not depraved, or that desperate. Well, maybe I’m a bit desperate. A part of me wants to push her further to see how long she’ll pretend not to want it.
We glare at each other for a beat, the wave of frustration floating between us. Mine is purely sexual, but I think London is fighting way more.
Clearly her stopping here on the way back from wherever she went—judging by the faint smell of alcohol on her, it wasn’t the library—is not a booty call.
“Come in. Do you want coffee or anything?” I take the three steps down and walk to my kitchen. London remains on the landing, but when I arch my eyebrow, she rolls her eyes and follows me.
“Just a glass of water.” She sighs, as if it pains her to accept my hospitality.
As she gulps it down, her eyes roam around my kitchen. Like in hers, white cabinets line one wall, but mine is less tidy.
While London’s surfaces are spotless and void of anything, my counter has a toaster, a coffee machine, a few books, a scrunched-up towel, and cups that didn’t make it to the dishwasher. It’s not dirty, but definitely not tidy.
“You don’t have a housekeeper?”
“Did you come to judge the state of my apartment?” I crack my knuckles and she flinches.
“I hate when people do that.” She squirms at my hands.
“Okay, go home, London, I don’t fucking care about your opinions.” Seriously, this woman is as attractive as she is infuriating. Surely there must be another woman who gets me off and doesn’t drive me crazy in the process.
“Sorry.” Her tone suggests otherwise. “Okay, hear me out. And I’d like the court to note that after stepping inside, I realized this is the worst idea ever.” She stops, looking surprised by her words, and then giggles.
The sound shocks me. If someone told me two minutes ago London was capable of such a sound, I would have laughed in their face. She must be tipsier than she looks.
“Duly noted. What’s your proposition?” I lean against the counter and cross my legs at the ankles.
She exhales a long breath. “I’d like you to be my boyfriend.”
I wait for the punch line, a twist, a jab, a snarl, but when she remains quiet, I wonder just how much she’s drunk tonight. This is rich. My mood improves. I crack my knuckles a few times before I react, enjoying her squirming.
