Wound Up. Kelli Ireland
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His stomach chose that moment to growl. He cursed.
“Forget breakfast. The sooner we get you fed, the sooner we can...” Heat burned across her cheeks. Damn fair complexion.
The skin of his thumb was slightly rough as he caressed her cheek. “We’re both adults, Grace. Unless you’re talking about a Monopoly marathon, I would imagine we’re on the same page.”
“Yay, adulthood,” she whispered.
He grinned. Whatever bothered him earlier had disappeared. “Yay, adulthood, indeed.” Swooping low, he grabbed her purse in one hand and settled the other on her waist. “Let’s go, beautiful.”
Grace stepped out of the elevator and followed him across the concrete pad. She could give herself this one night. On Monday she’d start her two-week practicum, the last thing she was required to complete in order to earn her diploma. Then she’d start her life in Baltimore. She’d be free. So, yeah, she would enjoy tonight. Maybe she could talk Justin into grabbing something at a drive-through so they could get to Monopoly faster. She wondered if he’d chosen the long-running game for a reason.
She could only hope.
NAVIGATING FIRST THE parking garage’s hairpin turns and then Seattle’s waterfront traffic, Justin’s mind wandered over the woman in the borrowed Camaro’s passenger seat. The fact that she had let him take the lead had been appealing at first. It only became an issue when she didn’t offer to drive or take him to her place. What was he going to do? He couldn’t take her to his apartment. A hotel he could afford would seem sleazy. A hotel he couldn’t afford was irresponsible. He could ask her if she was interested in taking this to her place, but that seemed overtly presumptuous, even in the face of their conversation. There was always the chance Levi would let Justin use his pad, but that felt worse than a cheap hotel. He supposed he might—
“What sounds appealing?”
He couldn’t stop the tightening of his hands on the steering wheel any more than he could change his immediate response. “You.”
Her sultry laugh nearly undid him. “I was thinking more along the lines of food, like drive-through versus restaurant.”
Heart pounding out a tribal rhythm in his brain, he chanced a glance at her. He nearly blew a vein. Her eyes were radiant in the streetlights, her skin nearly translucent. She nibbled her lower lip. Her palms were rubbing up and down her thighs, and he doubted she even realized it.
“I’m going to wreck this car if you don’t stop looking at me like that,” he murmured, returning his attention to the road.
“Like what?”
He grinned and shook his head. “Same way you used to look at me in class, making me forget what I was lecturing on.” Reaching across the console, he fished for her hand, found it and brought it to his lips. Her skin was soft and smelled of shea butter and vanilla. “You used to make me wonder how you’d taste if I said ‘to hell with it all’ and kissed you in class.”
Her hand tightened slightly around his. “Why didn’t you?”
“Mostly? I needed the job. But there was also the other part of me, the curious part that wondered what might happen if we ever crossed paths outside of the university, where we had a chance to let things play out without being worried about the rules.”
“I suppose now’s the time to satisfy your curiosity. And mine.”
He glanced at her, and all the blood in his brain dove south. “You’ve eaten dinner, but did you have dessert?”
“No.”
“There’s this great little dessert place in the market district. It might be crowded, but it’s worth the wait if you’re game.”
“Sounds wonderful.” She shifted toward him, resting on her hip. “How long have you danced at Beaux Hommes?”
He shrugged. “I started when I was twenty, so ten years.”
“Wow.”
“Why?” He chanced a quick glance at her as he wove through traffic.
“I just wondered how long I have to do penance for not realizing you danced there—and for not coming into the club and watching you sooner. Looks like I’ve got a decade to beat myself about the head and shoulders.”
A short bark of laughter escaped him. “Enjoyed it that much, did you?” Spindly fingers of unease skittered along his spine. He would have preferred to keep his dancing and the club out of whatever happened between them.
Shoving her hair off her forehead, she nodded. “I enjoyed it way more than is probably legal in most states.”
“Careful, Ms. Cooper. We can’t afford to have the club shut down.” He pulled into the café’s parking lot and lucked into a space at the very front as another car left. “Out of curiosity, what would the charge have been?”
She didn’t hesitate. “Unadulterated lust compounded by indecent thoughts in a public place.”
The grin that stole over Justin was absolute. “You’re quick.”
This time she was the one who shrugged. “I’ve been suffering long enough to know.”
Hand on the door handle, he paused. “Suffering?”
“Three years, Justin.” Soft words in the car’s semilit interior. “For three years I’ve watched you and laughed with you and wanted you. Remember when you had us get up, one at a time, to defend our theses? I bombed it because I couldn’t stop staring at you. You were kind, and didn’t call me out for my horrible delivery. I liked you even more for that, and I couldn’t stop wondering if you were half as compelled as I was to skip class and play doctor.” She smiled, the look somehow bittersweet. “I won’t pretend it wasn’t that way. Not now. Not anymore.”
His heart lurched. “No. No more pretending.” Drawing a deep breath, he pushed the door open. “Food first. Talk second.” He glanced back. “And we’ll discuss the specific terms of Monopoly.”
“Deal.” She slipped out of the car and met him at the door.
Taking her hand was entirely natural. He silently led her inside and snagged the first available table. A waitress was there in a heartbeat, and she immediately started to flirt with Justin, irritating him. The last thing he wanted was Grace to think he was an unconscionable jerk who had no respect for his date.
Date.
And that’s really what this was. It had started as something different and evolved into him sitting across a table from her, watching her, wanting her. That last hadn’t changed.
“Sir?” The waitress twirled her pen. “Does anything here sound...appetizing?”
Reaching across the table, he took Grace’s hand and met her eyes when he answered. “Yeah, something here is just about perfect, but she’s not on your menu.”
Grace blushed, charming him to the core.
He lifted her hand to his mouth and kissed her knuckles. “I’ll have a turkey club, no mayo, and fries. Grace?”
“I didn’t read the menu.”
“Do you like vanilla?”
“Yes.”
“Do you trust me?”
She watched him, searching his eyes before answering. “Yes.”
“My date and I will have the crème brûlée with fresh fruit. Just one spoon. Thanks.”
“Sure.” The waitress flounced away.
“She seems a bit disappointed you’re