by C. C. Wood
“I have my ways,” he murmured, lifting his free hand to trace a finger along my collarbone. “And I think you look…hot, too.”
Before I could gather enough brain cells to formulate a response, he lowered his head and brushed his lips against mine. I had a love-hate relationship with the way he kissed me when he greeted me or said good-bye. The light touch of his lips felt amazing and never failed to elicit a tingle, but I wanted more.
That’s why I was shocked when his mouth pressed against mine firmly, quickly followed by the tip of his tongue on my bottom lip. My arms lifted and I grasped his shoulders as I parted my lips. The kiss went from light and friendly to hot and wild in a blink.
My back hit my front door but my front was plastered against Landen. His palm moved from the small of my back to my ass and he took a firm hold of one cheek and pulled me in even tighter.
Heat flooded my veins and the tingles spread from my lips to my nipples and further down to the place between my thighs. Hell, even my toes were tingling. I moaned as his other hand moved from my collarbone to my breast. The lace bra I wore offered no barrier between his hot palm and my hard nipple. When his thumb brushed over the peak, I arched into him.
After my conversation with Grier yesterday, I’d decided to tell Landen to forget about our stupid bet. I wouldn’t push for physical intimacy if he wanted to wait. But that didn’t mean I wouldn’t wear sexy underwear, just in case. And, right this moment, I was very glad I did because his hand on my breast felt amazing.
Then his palm skimmed down to my waist and held me there as his mouth lost some of its voracity. As the kiss became slow and easy, my hands loosened on his shoulders and slid up the back of his neck to his hair. I cradled his skull between my palms and my body relaxed deeper into his.
Finally, Landen lifted his head and stared down at me, his eyes glittering and heavy-lidded. “You’re not exactly playing fair when it comes to our bet,” he murmured.
I dropped back onto my bare heels and stared up at him, my hands still in his thick, dark hair. “About that…”
His lifted a brow but didn’t say anything, letting me go when I stepped sideways to put some space between us. He turned to watch me as I walked from the entryway to the kitchen. I leaned my back against the bar and crossed my arms.
“Let’s forget about the bet,” I stated. “It wasn’t right for me to push you like that.”
Landen mirrored my pose. “Push me?”
I sucked in a deep breath and let it loose on a long sigh. “Look, I thought about it and it’s not right for me to rush you into something you’re not ready for. I know I wouldn’t appreciate it if I wanted to wait a week or two before becoming intimate with a man and he started getting pushy with me. In fact, it would piss me the hell off. Just because I’m a woman doesn’t mean that it’s okay for me to do that to you.”
He stared at me for a beat, his expression utterly shocked, before he threw his head back and laughed. Not just a few chuckles, but a deep, guttural laugh that echoed in my small apartment. He leaned back against the front door and continued with his guffaws until I felt annoyance creeping in.
“Do you mind sharing what’s so funny?” I asked, my tone arctic.
He shook his head and chuckled for another few seconds before he answered, “You. You’re funny.”
My eyes narrowed at him and I straightened from the counter, cocking one hip to the side. “What, exactly, did I say that was so hilarious?”
He came forward and I stiffened as he closed in on me, his hands grabbing onto my hips. He ignored my rigid body and pulled me into him. “Chelsea, you weren’t pushy at all. I want to wait because I’m worried I’ll push you too far, too fast.”
I gaped at him. “What?”
The last of the amusement faded from his features as he gazed down at me. “I’ve been around you for a year, but we still don’t know each other that well and…” He paused, his eyes moving over my face. “I can be intense.”
I frowned up at him in confusion. “What do you mean?”
He cleared his throat. “I prefer to be in control when it comes to sex.”
“Are we talking bossy in the bedroom or something a little more kinky?” I asked. He’d alluded to this last week and claimed that he didn’t want to do anything other than tie me up, but I was curious. Was he trying to ease me into the idea of something more than just that? My cheeks felt hot but this time it wasn’t from embarrassment. In fact, I barely suppressed the urge to squirm against him. I’d never experimented with bondage, but I had read a few romance novels that included BDSM and my curiosity had definitely been piqued.
Of course, Landen read me like an open book and the corner of his mouth tilted up in a slight smile. “Definitely bossy and maybe a little kinky.” The ghost of a smile vanished from his face. “I hate to bring up past relationships, but it is something that has created issues with some of my exes.”
My mind wandered back to our conversation when we created the bet. He’d mentioned this in passing, but I didn’t realize that he might want that sort of control on a regular basis.
“Really?” I asked. “I mean, you mentioned light bondage before but that seems pretty tame compared to some of the stuff I’ve seen, well, read about since those movies came out. Unless it’s more than that.”
He shook his head. “No, nothing that extreme. I just prefer to…be in charge.”
“I’m not sure I would have a problem with that unless you want me to moo like a cow or something. But my safe word is cheesecake.”
Landen chuckled. “No. No role-playing. Nothing that would require a safe word. That’s not what I’m interested in.”
“Now, I’m really curious,” I grumbled.
His hands squeezed my hips and he tugged me even closer. “I’ll do my best to satisfy your curiosity soon.”
His tone said he would satisfy a hell of a lot more than that. I couldn’t decide if I was nervous or excited by the idea.
Before I could make up my mind, he released me and stepped back. “Whatever you’re cooking smells delicious,” he commented, smoothly changing the subject.
I waited a few seconds for the strength to return to my legs before I moved. Then I skirted around the counter to the stove where the garlic bread sat on the baking sheet. “Thank you.”
“What’s on the menu?” he asked, shrugging out of his jacket.
I eyed him as he hung the jacket over the back of a barstool and unbuttoned the cuffs of his shirt to roll them back on his forearms. “Cheesy chicken and potatoes with salad and garlic bread.”
“Sounds delicious.”
When he planted his ass on a barstool I realized I hadn’t offered him anything to drink, something that would horrify my genteel Southern mama. “Do you want something to drink? I have beer, wine, sweet tea, and Coke.”
“A beer sounds great.”
I reached into my fridge and pulled out a bottle of Ziegenbock. Since I started working for Chris, I’d been out to dinner with the two of them enough to know his preference, so I’d stocked up when I went to the grocery store earlier.
I popped the cap and set the bottle in front of him and he stared at it in surprise for a moment. “You like Ziegenbock?”
I laughed and opened a drawer to grab a knife for the garlic bread. “No, but you do.”
Landen studied me for a moment and I couldn’t read his expression. It was somewhat unnerving. Finally, he said, “Thanks.”
Nodding, I sliced the loaf of garlic bread. I could freeze the leftovers and warm them up the next time I threw together pasta or minestrone. Once the bread was cut, I reached into the cabinet for two plates and filled them with the creamy, cheesy chicken and potatoes, salad, and bread. I set one in front of him and put mine on the bar next to him as I poured myself a glass of white wine.
Since my apartment was too small for a dining table, I usually ate at the bar or sat on the floor in front of my couch.
I realized as I started around the co
unter that I hadn’t given him a knife or fork so I grabbed silverware from the drawer and handed him a set. I was surprised that he waited for me to sit next to him before he cut into the chicken and took a bite.
Then his brows lifted. “This is delicious,” he stated after he chewed and swallowed.
“Thanks.” I smiled at him. “It’s one of my favorite rainy day recipes.”
As we ate, he asked about my day and actually listened as I talked about work. Then he regaled me with stories about his college days with Chris. Apparently, my boss wasn’t always as harsh as he was now. In fact, he sounded like a lot of fun.
Finally, I asked the question that had been on the tip of my tongue since I opened the door to him earlier. “So, why were you so dressed up today?”
Landen’s face closed up and he fell silent for a few long moments. I began to wonder if he was going to answer me when he spoke at last. “I had to meet with an attorney today to discuss the situation in Oregon.”
My stomach knotted, the chicken I’d eaten feeling like a rock in my gut. He hadn’t mentioned his company in Oregon since his explanation for ghosting me two weeks ago. I was ashamed that I’d all but forgotten about it because I’d been so immersed in everything that was Landen Weber and the fiery sexual attraction between us.
I didn’t want to pry but now I was worried. Choosing my words carefully, I asked, “How are things going with that?”
Landen shook his head and sighed heavily. “Honestly? Shitty as hell. It’s a complete clusterfuck and it’s going to take a lot of work to get it straightened out.”
Still hesitant, I questioned, “Is there anything I can do to help?”
His gaze fell on my face and the hard sheen in his eyes faded and his jaw relaxed. “You’re already doing it. Now and in the office. I’m sure Chris has you going through files and pulling information for me.”
I nodded, but I hadn’t realized why I was doing it. Which only reinforced the fact that Chris might joke about giving me a promotion, but he still saw me very much as his assistant rather than a peer. I ignored the ugly feeling that slid through me. I could have a pity party later when Landen was gone. Whatever my issues were, they were nothing compared to what he was dealing with now.
“Hey.” At Landen’s gentle word, I focused my eyes on his face. “Whatever you’re thinking that put that look on your face, stop. It’ll be fine, just a pain in the ass in the meantime.”
“I wish there was something else I could do to help you,” I stated. And that wasn’t a lie. I just didn’t mention the other thoughts that were taking up space in my brain.
He placed his hand on my leg, just above my knee, and squeezed gently. “You’re doing it. You made me a delicious meal and we’re going to lounge on your couch and watch TV afterward. And make out.”
I had to laugh at the lascivious look that accompanied his last statement. “Maybe.”
He squeezed my knee again. “How about definitely?”
I tilted my head and let the heavy thoughts drift away. “How about probably?”
“I’ll take what I can get.”
Chapter Fifteen
I looked up when the door to the office opened and watched as a courier came in.
“Hi, can I help you?” I said, forcing myself to smile even though I didn’t feel like it.
“Chelsea Archer?”
“Yes,” I replied, confused when he held out a tablet and a stylus.
“Delivery for you.” The courier was young, maybe in his early twenties, good looking, and he knew it because he grinned at me.
I ignored his flirty grin and scribbled my name on the screen. Once I pressed okay, he took a box out of his messenger bag and handed it to me.
“Have a nice day,” he said with a wink.
“You too,” I muttered. I didn’t bother to smile at him again because that would only encourage him to linger and flirt more. And I really wasn’t in the mood.
After dinner last night, Landen was true to his word. He lounged on my couch with me and watched Homicide Hunter. Then we made out for a little while, but he seemed distant, as though he wasn’t as into it as I was, which effectively killed my mood. I understood he was under a lot of stress and dealing with some major issues with his company and possible criminal charges against one of his employees. I’d never been in that position, so I didn’t know how that would affect me if I were in his shoes, so maybe I would have been just as distracted.
Still, it stung that he withdrew from me like that.
Vaguely, I heard the courier leave the office as I stared down at the box, unsure what it might be or who sent it. I reached into my desk for scissors and cut through the tape around the box.
When I opened it, I gaped. I reached inside and pulled out what appeared to be a t-shirt. When I shook it open, I laughed aloud.
On the front it said, “My, my, my.” One of Lt. Joe Kenda’s catchphrases that never failed to make me smile. And now it was on a shirt. For me.
A smile spread across my face as I dove back into the box and found two mugs. One said “Cup of Joe” on one side and had Joe Kenda’s picture on the back. The other cup had the same phrase as the t-shirt. Then I saw the other package. I ripped it open and laughed again when I saw that they were socks with what appeared to be hundreds of Joe Kenda heads printed all over them.
They were great. A little goofy and perfect for me. I could see myself curled up on my couch wearing the tee, cotton shorts, and the socks as I drank tea from my mug and watched a Homicide Hunter marathon.
Then I saw the white envelope in the bottom with my name scrawled across it in a familiar script and my heart actually skipped a beat. It was a new sensation for me, one that I’d never experienced before. Hell, I’d always rolled my eyes when I read that in a romance novel, thinking that was a stupid turn of phrase because it was impossible.
But Landen Weber proved me wrong because my heartbeat stuttered in my chest once again as I lifted the envelope and opened it.
Inside, on a single sheet of white paper, he’d written-
I thought that a devoted fan like you should have some official Joe Kenda merchandise. I hope you like it.
-Landen
Just like that, my worries about Landen’s withdrawal dissipated. I didn’t hesitate to pick up my phone and find his name in the contact list.
“Good morning, Chelsea,” he greeted me.
I could practically hear the smile in his voice, something that I wished I could see because I’d rarely seen a happy expression on his face before I’d started spending time with him away from the office.
“I love my present,” I responded without greeting him. “It’s perfect. Thank you.”
He chuckled and the low, warm sound created a corresponding warmth in my chest. I’d heard him laugh more in the last two weeks than in the entire year since I started at Chris’ office.
“I’m glad you like it.”
“And I’m keeping one of the mugs at the office,” I stated.
This time his laughter was louder and freer. “Good.”
I paused. “How’s your day going?” I asked.
“Better than yesterday,” he replied. “Especially now.”
Gah. I almost wished he would go back to the overbearing, arrogant ass I was used to because I didn’t know what to do with this Landen Weber. He was thoughtful and almost…sweet.
“I don’t have much time, but I wanted to know if you’re free on Friday night.”
I didn’t tell him that I was always free on Fridays unless I was getting together with one of my girlfriends, so I merely said, “I’m free.”
“Then I’m taking you to dinner,” he declared. “7 o’clock. Wear a dress.”
Ah, there he was. “A dress?” I asked archly.
“Yes. Something short.”
I felt a buzz of irritation at his bossiness. “Where exactly do you intend to take me?”
The smile in his voice was back and I knew he could hear my annoyance. �
��It’s a surprise, but there’s a dress code.”
“And the rules requires me in a skirt?” I queried sarcastically, hiding the fact that I was excited he intended to take me somewhere nice enough to necessitate a dress code.
“No, that’s required by my plans for later.”
That statement sent heat straight from my nipples to between my thighs. Instead of acquiescing, I merely replied, “We’ll see.”
He chuckled again, but this time it was dark and hot. Sexy.
Shit, I was in deep, deep trouble because I really wanted to wear the dress he demanded but my own stubbornness meant it was imperative I assert my independence.
“I’m nothing if not flexible,” he stated.
I laughed because that was patently untrue. Landen Weber liked things his way, when he wanted, where he wanted.
“Well, in this case I will be,” he amended. It sounded more like a threat than a concession.
“Fine. I’ll see you on Friday.” I couldn’t resist giving him a hard time. “Are you picking me up?”
“Really?” he asked.
I snickered. “Okay, I’ll be ready at seven.”
“Good. I’m glad you like your present. You can show me how much on Friday. I’ll talk to you later.”
Before I could formulate a response to that outrageous statement, he disconnected the call. I stared at my phone, torn between amusement, arousal, and annoyance.
Then I texted him.
I changed my mind. I think we should wait a month instead of two weeks.
I knew he would catch my meaning though I didn’t state it outright. I laughed to myself, wondering what his response would be. There was no way in hell I was waiting a month, but I wasn’t going to let him know that.
A few seconds later, he answered.
We’ll see.
Oh, yes, we would. Landen thrived on a challenge. And I’d just thrown down the gauntlet for him to pick up.
The next night, I stood in front of my full-length mirror, turning from side to side to check the fit of the jumpsuit.