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"Oh?"
"It's a very exclusive, very private tour."
"What about the tour guide?" I say, smirking as I play along.
"Just some guy. The important thing is: you're invited."
By now, we've finished our meal and dessert. We've been lingering at the table, just talking.
I feel light, up for anything.
"Now?" I ask.
"Now," he says.
Don't you dare - this is a bad, a very bad idea, I think.
"OK," I say.
His mouth parts in delighted surprise. "Yeah?"
"Yeah. But it better be free."
"Of course." He's already rising, looking around for our waiter. Then he winks at me. "Although we do accept tips."
Which is how, twenty minutes later, I come to be standing before the door of the offices of Storm Inc. I can't help but think how close I probably am to all the evidence I need to nail them on the plagiarism charges. Surely Colin Storm's journals are squirreled away here somewhere. But the next thing I know, Landon's whisking me inside, pointing out ten things at once. "And over there is our state-of-the-art coffee machine, which can make about five at once, and espresso, and some weird latte thing I think is crap, but Nolan loves. And over there is..."
I let his voice fade to the back of my consciousness as I take it all in. The renovations really were an improvement. The full-wall windows and sleek chrome furniture are gorgeous. It almost feels like a spread in an interior-decorating magazine, or even an Ikea set-up, rather than a real office that has people in it five or however-many days a week.
"And here we are," he says, coming to a stop.
Somehow, we've made it all the way to his office without me noticing.
It's smaller than the one he quickly showed me as his father's. Has a glass desk and a black leather chair that looks big enough for two.
The door is closed behind us.
Landon goes over to sit down, turns himself around a bit. When I finally let myself look at him, I find he's looking right at me.
Hello there, heat between my legs.
"So, this is where it all happens," I say in what I hope is a light voice.
I try to think of an excuse to leave, but my mind is blurry, blank.
His gaze says it already, but then he says it aloud in a hoarse voice: "Come here."
"Landon," I say, rooted to the spot.
I can't leave. I can't stay.
My fists are balled at my sides.
Idiot.
What else did I think would happen, coming here? Even if talking to him was as easy and fun as ever, at the end of the day, he's Landon Storm. He takes what he wants.
God, how could I have let myself forget that?
It seems an eternity, him rising, coming over to me, cupping my face with his hands. That gaze never so much as budging.
"Go away," I murmur.
"Alright," he says, and then he kisses me.
It's soft and giving and a question, one that my body answers instinctively. I pull away - and then, as if I'm a boomerang, give in.
Yes...
Our lips meet and remeet with a rightness that's old. Kissing him is in its own category. The way his tongue guides mine. How his hands wrap around me, hold me and stroke me so tightly that I find myself trembling.
Oh... fuck.
Pull away - I have to. The last of my self-control is ebbing away. But every new kiss, every stroke, every action of his produces an equal and opposite reaction in me - one that can't be avoided.
I've wanted this for so long. Missed this. Needed this.
He tips his forehead to mine and, eyes meeting mine, murmurs, "I've been wanting to do that for too damn long."
Chapter 7
Landon
Kyra's eyes narrow into a glare, although the corners of her mouth stay turned-up, teasing. "One week is too damn long?"
Shit. Why did I say that? Even if it was true, how could I be idiot enough to think that saying it would lead to anything good?
It's just that when I'm with Kyra, I forget myself. Forget everything else.
"Longer than that," I admit, ending it off with a kiss.
Fucking hell do her lips feel good against mine. Her tongue is the perfect partner, too, the yin to my yang. She gives and she takes. She follows and she leads.
Yes, this is the same Kyra who was my girl all those years ago - but she's different, too.
Our fingertips enmesh, lift over each other. I kiss her to the wall and pin her there.
Her eyes are half-lidded - with pleasure, with a bit of anger, who knows. All I know is where I want to be: inside her.
"Landon," she says suddenly, pushing me away.
I pause, even though I can feel, like a magnet, a force pulling me right back to her. I need to touch her, kiss her. Be with her.
"Just not enemies," she says, narrowed eyes scanning my face.
