Moonstruck. Джулия Кеннер
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leaned closer, then pressed his hand flat against her lower belly. “Anyone would be lucky to get your kidney.” His words were teasing, but she didn’t smile. How could she when she could barely think. Her whole body was tense. His touch, his smell, even the soft sound of his breath was absolutely driving her crazy, and it was taking every ounce of effort not to close her hand over his on her belly and move it up to her breast, then slide his hand on her thigh up, up to where she really wanted to feel it.
Oh, dear Lord, she wanted to feel it. Him. His hands all over her. And right then, the biggest question on her mind was why, why, why were they still sitting in that bar?
He lifted his hand from her stomach, and she managed to breathe again. He signaled for the bartender to bring them another round, then he took her hand in his. “I thought I was doing you a favor. Did I assume wrong?”
She licked her lips. “I was that obvious?”
“I’ve learned to watch people. I spend a lot of time negotiating. People don’t usually say what they’re thinking.”
“What was I thinking?” She wondered if he could tell that she’d been fantasizing about a day with him and, yes, she wondered if he wanted that, too.
“You were thinking the party sounded like an opportunity.”
“It is.” She sounded defensive, and she tried to tone it back. “I mean, I’ve been working for a judge for a while now. Great experience, great credentials, but I need to make my own contacts. I’m moving into private practice this summer.”
“No need to justify yourself to me. I’m a man who survived and thrived chasing opportunities.”
She tried to remember what she’d heard about him. She’d seen his name before when she turned on various celebrity gossip shows, and those types of programs seemed to be all over the television lately. And every once in a while she saw a reference on a blog. She didn’t tend to follow that kind of stuff, so the fact that she’d even once bounced up against his name suggested that he really was tabloid fodder, and if Joe was chasing after him, then Ty’s clubs must be some of the hottest around.
“Well, I appreciate it. It was you they really want to come, not me.” She frowned. “Frankly, I’m surprised Joe didn’t make more of an effort to keep me from coming.” She frowned, wondering if she should say something to Bonita when she saw her the next day, then decided it depended on whether Joe had already started dating Bonita when he’d made his pass at her. She’d have to find out.
“You’re looking pensive,” he said, picking up the scotch that the bartender had set in front of him and taking a sip. “Want to share?”
“No,” she said with a laugh. “I really don’t, and yet here I am running my mouth off with you.”
He dragged the tip of his finger along the edge of his glass, making it wet with condensation. Then he drew his fingertip slowly over her lips. “I happen to like your mouth,” he said in a tone that really should only be used in bed while naked.
She closed her eyes, soaking up the sound of his voice, then drew his finger in, tasting him, a hint of scotch, a dash of musk and one-hundred percent male.
She heard a little moan and realized it was coming from her.
She opened her eyes and saw that he was smiling at her, the heat in his eyes unmistakeable. To her surprise, she didn’t feel embarrassed. Instead, she felt sexy. Strong. “I think you’re making me a little crazy.”
“Maybe it’s the champagne,” he said.
She shook her head. “The champagne may account for some of the courage, but it’s the man who’s making me—”
“Yes?”
Wet. “Itchy.”
“Maybe I can help you scratch the itch.”
Her breath hitched in her throat. “I really wish you would.”
His smile was practically edible, and as he leaned in, she knew she wanted to taste it. Wanted to consume it, and when his lips brushed hers, she slid hungrily into the kiss, lips only at first, then leaning closer, her arm hooking around his neck as she lost herself in the wonder that was this man. This heat.
The rough sound of a clearing throat caught their attention, and Ty pulled away, breaking the kiss slowly and then, Claire was glad to see, looking at their interloper with an expression that suggested the interruption better be worth it.
The culprit was a girl, probably in her early twenties, wearing a tight Decadent T-shirt, and from the way she was grinning, she felt not the slightest bit of remorse for interrupting. As if Claire was just another girl, and this was just another night with clubster Ty Coleman.
Well, that’s probably true. Is that a problem?
He leaned in and kissed her hard enough to make her melt, then met and held her eyes, his hot enough to melt steel.
Nope, she thought. No problem at all.
“I’m sorry,” he said, sliding off the stool, his hand sliding along her thigh as he moved, and sending a shiver down her spine and shooting a promise between her legs. “I need to go run over a few closing details with Fred. Wait for me?”
She nodded, feeling a little dizzy, a lot girlie, and remarkably like she had the night that Tommy Blake—her teenage crush—had kissed her under the bleachers for the very first time.
Lost in her thoughts, she pulled a cherry out of one of the bar dishes and started to suck on it, her gaze sweeping casually over the room. She saw Joe and Bonita heading for the door, and quickly turned away, not wanting to meet their eyes. When she did, she found Alyssa, hidden with Chris in a throng that was moving for the far door. Alyssa whispered something to Chris, who shot Claire a friendly wave as Alyssa headed in her direction.
“I was going to fire off a text message,” Alyssa said, “but since you’re alone now…” She trailed off, then bit her lower lip. “Are you alone now?”
“Only temporarily,” Claire said, feeling slightly giddy.
“He’s gorgeous,” Alyssa said, taking Ty’s seat. “See? What did I tell you about sticking around? What’s he like? What’s his name?”
“He’s great,” Claire said. “So far, anyway. And his name’s Ty.” She paused a bit, to see if Alyssa would react. “Ty Coleman.”
“Great name,” her friend said, and Claire wasn’t sure if she should be impressed with herself for having more pop culture knowledge than Alyssa, or ashamed.
“Does he work here?” She nodded to something over Claire’s shoulder, and when she turned, she saw Ty talking with the tall man who’d counted down to the New Year. He looked over while he was speaking, caught her eye and smiled.
“Bang and pop,” Alyssa said.
“What?”
“The way you two are looking at each other. It’s not just lust. It’s a connection.”
Claire laughed, brushing aside her friend’s words. “You only want me to be a couple now that you are. I just met the man.”
Alyssa shrugged. “Believe what you want,” she said in a voice that suggested she knew what she was talking about and Claire was hopelessly ignorant. “But you definitely owe me for convincing you to stay. I was coming over to tell you that you better not be planning on driving tonight, but since it looks like you’ve got an escort home, I’m not going to worry about it. But,” she added, as she leaned in to give Claire a hug, “don’t you dare drive.”
“I’ll consider it a stellar excuse to go home with the man. If he wants me to,” she added, the possibility that he wouldn’t disturbing her more than it probably should.
“Trust me,” Alyssa said, with a decidedly mischievous grin, “I’m certain he does.” She