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“Twenty-four-seven,” she said without hesitation.
Releasing her hand, he made a mental note to circle back and ask about her move. As she scrolled through a long list of messages and began texting, he focused on her luscious neck. Kissing and sucking as her fingers flew over the screen. His annoyance turned to amusement, underscored by admiration of her drive and determination. Another challenge, and one he was definitely up for.
“Ending world hunger?” He licked the shell of her ear.
“Something like that,” she answered breathily. “My assistant, Miranda, needs some answers.”
He continued kissing her neck, her shoulder, and then he went for her mouth again. She kissed him back while lifting her phone to eye level, looking over his shoulder as she typed. She was an excellent multitasker, which made Dylan laugh.
“Seriously?” he said between kisses.
“I told you,” she said with a soft laugh. “This is why quickies are all I have time for.”
He stepped out from the booth, pulling her up beside him. “Come on, Summers, time to go.”
“Where are we going?” She hurried to keep up, clutching her phone and bag as he dragged her toward the entrance.
“My place.” He nodded as customers called out greetings, and pushed open the door. With an arm around her waist, while she was busy texting, he flagged down a cab.
“I’ve got no problem with you handling work if it’s that critical, which for the record, I find slightly disturbing. But if you insist on doing it when you’re with me, you’re going to do it naked. One way or another, Iwillmake you forget about that damn phone.”
“Promises, promises,” she quipped.
IN THE CAB, the heat of Dylan’s gaze blazed a path from Tiffany’s mouth to her breasts and to the juncture of her thighs. He didn’t say a word as she answered her anxious client’s emails and Miranda’s texts. Didn’t move his fingers from where they had taken up residence on her thigh, and the anticipation was unbearable. She waited for him to either yank the phone from her hands and kiss her breathless, or tell her he was out of there, like other men had. She knew her job presented a problem in the dating realm, which was another reason why she never dated, but she couldn’t afford to lose this client. Greg Taylor was a rising star, but like many sports figures that found fast fame, he was a little out of control. He’d signed with Tiffany after his rookie contract ended and she’d secured a one-point-five-million-dollar ten-year contract for him. She was a ruthless negotiator. Unfortunately, Greg had lost his cool coming out of a restaurant and threatened the paparazzi, and now she also had to be a shrewd and compassionate babysitter. It was all part of the game. She advised him to lie low and prepare a formal apology in case it blew up in his face, which would jeopardize the very lucrative sponsorship deals she’d spent weeks hammering out for him. Then she zipped off a text to his public relations rep to nip the situation in the bud.
She drew in a deep breath, Dylan’s masculine scent infiltrating her senses. The tequila had warmed her from the inside out, and kissing him had made her want to forget everything and drag him under the table at the bar. And this strong, silent thing he had going on was making her increasingly flustered—and frustratingly turned on. She lowered her phone to her lap, trying to ignore the clenching of her sex with every silent second that passed.
“Did you stop the alien invasion?” he asked, using one finger to tuck a lock of hair behind her ear.
She breathed deeply, trying to calm her racing heart as he touched his lips to the sensitive skin just below her ear. “I hope so.”
“Good,” he whispered.
Her phone vibrated again and she glanced at it, then at Dylan. His eyes were dark and mysterious. She liked dark and mysterious. She wanted to feel dark and mysterious all over her naked skin.
He squeezed her thigh and winked. “Go ahead, Winters. Let’s get all that stuff over with.”
Winters. Suddenly she longed for one of his other, playful nicknames. But who was she kidding? She hadn’t been playful in years, and right now she hated herself for being so driven. She read the text, relieved it was a quick thank you and didn’t require a response.
Turning her attention to the very attentive man beside her, she felt bad for putting him offagain.God. What was it about him that made her…care? The emotion took her by surprise as much as the entrancing way he was looking at her did.
“I’m sorry, Dylan.”
He traced the line of her jaw with his finger, mesmerizing her with his steady gaze, featherlight touch, and the look of lustful promises swimming in his eyes.
“Don’t apologize for being ambitious. You gave me fair warning. I could have taken you right home after the hospital, but I wanted to spend a little time with you when you weren’t coming off the heels of visiting your father.”
That was so thoughtful she wasn’t sure how to respond, so she remained silent. The cab arrived at their apartment building, and she was sure he’d say good night and they’d go their separate ways. The man gave near-orgasm inducing kisses and could have had any woman in that bar with the snap of his fingers. Why would he waste any more time on a woman who was glued to her frigging phone?
He paid the driver and placed a hand possessively on her back. She liked that, too, which was strange, because she normally rebelled against possession of any type. He fell silent again as they went inside and waited for the elevator, but she heard every breath, felt the press of his fingers at the base of her spine, and she was sure he could feel, or at least sense, her sprinting pulse.
When the elevator arrived, he followed her inside and pressed the button for the eighth floor. Was she too hot and bothered to think straight? Maybe she was misreading his touch, his silence.
She should end this civilly and climb beneath her sheets with her ego still intact. Reaching for the control panel she said, “I’m on the fifth floor.”
He took her hand and dipped his head, gazing into her eyes. “I know. Have you changed your mind?” He stepped forward and her back met the wall.
“No,” she said breathlessly. “I thought…I wouldn’t blame you if—”
