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I’m relieved when she smiles shyly, something I didn’t expect from such a badass, which makes it all the sweeter. Hell, no one wants to leave themselves vulnerable. God knows that’s been my mantra for far too long.
But you can’t hide forever, not if you want to live.
“I… I was hoping,” she stammers.
I run my fingers up the back of her neck and, with what feels like half of New York City surrounding us, gently pull her to me for a slow kiss. Someone in the background gives a long low whistle, and Amalia laughs into my mouth.
But we don’t stop.
39
HENRY
I want her,and I want her all to myself.
I don’t mind sharing with friends. God knows I’ve done it enough times. But sometimes it just has to be you and your girl. To hell with the guys.
I grip Amalia’s hand tightly as we maneuver down the crowded High Line steps. Some dude-bros in matching ball caps stumble into us, but I shoulder chuck them out of the way. It was a clumsy accident on their part, I know, but at the moment I want Amalia close to me, not touching another man.
Or even looking at one.
“Was that necessary?” she asks playfully when we’re back on the street walking side-by-side. “You’re such a brute,” she teases.
“Yeah,” I growl.
I’m not sure what’s come over me, but at this moment I know what I want, and nothing’s getting in my way. At least not anything I can’t push aside.
I flag down the first cab I see and load Amalia into it. I slide in next to her and give the driver my address. The distance to myown apartment isn’t far, but a cab is faster by a few minutes, and with the way I’m feeling right now, even a minute is longer than I want to wait.
I’ve got to be alone with this woman.
We ride in silence, even though I haven’t bothered asking her to come home with me. It’s like she knows me, want I want, and she wants me as much as I want her.
Fuck, I hope she does.
“Nice place,” she says when we arrive.
Before I left the house, I had the slightest hope I might get her back here with me, so I picked up after myself. All the dirty clothes went into the hamper, dishes in the dishwasher, and old newspapers in recycling.
What can I say? I haven’t had anyone over in ages.
“Thanks.” I watch her head straight for my bookshelves. “It’s nothing like Wyatt’s place, but it’s comfortable.”
She laughs. “No one has a place like Wyatt’s. At least no one I know.”
As she peruses my books, she unwraps a skinny little scarf from her neck and absentmindedly drapes it on a chair back. She could easily be the sexiest woman I’ve ever known, and what’s funny is that she really has no idea the effect she has on me, or for that matter, any man.
I flip on some music and she starts to sway as she pulls a Faulkner novel from my shelf.
Figures she’d pick that.
I hold my hands up. “Don’t even ask me. I couldn’t get through that book if you paid me.”
She drops her head and laughs. “Oh my God. Me too! I was so afraid you were gonna say this is ‘the best book you ever read,’ or something like that, leaving me feeling like a total dunce.”
I slowly cross the room to her. “Why’d you pull it off the shelf, then?”
She presses her lips together and looks aside as she thinks. “I guess… I guess I wanted you to think I was smart or something.”
