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The doorman finally called, and I knew Bash was on his way up. If this was going to be a regular thing, I’d need to arrange access for him. When I heard the soft whir of the elevator, I headed over to the vestibule to meet him.
The elevator doors opened, and I locked eyes with Sebastian. My stomach flipped once or twice and then the butterflies set in. Those beautiful eyes could make me do anything. He smiled lazily, like he knew exactly how devastating his smile was to the female sex. He usually kept his dark hair fairly short, but it was getting long enough that it was starting to curl up at the ends. I wanted to run my hands through it, preferably while his head was buried deep between my thighs.
He stepped off the elevator, holding the box of toys. He was wearing a black thermal shirt that was perfectly snug, a pair of dark wash jeans, and a pair of worn black boots. He looked like his ordinary self, absolutely delectable.
I swallowed down my nerves. “I hope you didn’t let Clayton get a peek into that box. You could have closed it up.”
He glanced at the box and smiled. “Who’s Clayton?”
“The doorman.”
“Oh, he got an eyeful.” Bash smirked. “I told him I was returning some things you left at my house.”
“You did not!” I feigned outrage.
He put down the box and then opened his arms for a hug.
My racing heartbeat calmed when I stepped into his arms. God, I could get used to this.
“I missed you,” he whispered into my ear.
I squeezed him tighter, breathing in the fresh, woodsy scent I’d remembered from Vegas. It was warm and musky, a masculine blend of sandalwood and vanilla with hints of orange and tobacco that evoked strength and virility. I pulled out of his arms before I got caught huffing him like a teenager with an uncapped magic marker.
His scent must have gotten me high because the stuff that came out of my mouth next was ridiculous. “You look nice. Well, you always look nice, so I guess you look normal. But that’s... nice.” Shoot me now.
His lips twitched with a smile. “Were you expecting me to wear leather chaps?” He jammed his hands into his front pockets, growing more serious. “I have a pretty good idea of all the things you’re interested in trying after our discussions. And I’m down to try all of that with you. But it’s going to be you and me, Lacey. I’m not going to dress up in some whacky domination get-up. That’s not me. But you, wifey, can dress up in whatever you like. I won’t stop you from wearing kinky outfits if that’s what you like. The tinier the better.”
Jeez. I almost had to fan myself. I would love to see him in leather chaps. “What if I want to role-play? Would you wear a sexy cop uniform for me?”
His smile had my insides twisting. “I think I could manage that once in a while. But most of the time, it’s just going to be the real me. Will that work?”
“Of course,” I agreed. “I want it to be you. No one else.”
“Good. So, how do we start this thing? I’ve read a lot of stuff, but I’m not sure how to go about this.”
I grinned. “Well, you’re in control here. Just let me know when you’re ready, I guess. Would you like something to drink? A glass of wine?”
“Sure.” He followed me into the kitchen, bringing the box of toys with him.
I started browsing through the under-the-counter wine fridge. “What’s your favorite wine?”
He placed the box on the island. “Um, I don’t know. I usually only drink wine when I’m out to dinner with my parents.”
I pulled out a bottle. “Okay, then I won’t waste a super-expensive bottle on you. This is a nice one.”
I handed him the bottle and a wine opener while I pulled down a couple of glasses from the cabinet. He wasn’t a complete novice because he made quick work of opening the bottle and then filled our glasses with decent technique.
We moved into the living room and sat on the couch a few feet apart. He’d hauled the box of sex toys with us and set it on the coffee table. It sat there like an enormous elephant in the room, reminding me of what was to come.
“So, how is Kody doing?”
Bash gave me a quick rundown of Kody’s week, talking about his preschool class, his new friend, and a few funny stories about the silly mischief he’s been up to like giving his stuffed dog a bath in the toilet bowl and writing his name with marker on the wall.
The entire time he talked, his knee bounced up and down. When he had half a glass of wine left, he tipped it back and finished it off. My guess was that he was more impatient than nervous. Unlike myself. This was exactly what I wanted, but I was nervous as hell. What if this night turned out to be an unmitigated disaster of friendship-ruining bad sex mixed with unerotic kink?
I pointed to his glass. “Do you want some more?”
“No.” His answer was curt.
