He coughed, choking on thin air for an agonizing moment before he managed to respond to her double entendre. “Nope, not yet.” Hell, he’d need to turn his man card in if he didn’t jump on this while he had the chance. “But definitely still interested.”
The full-fledged grin she gave him at that could have melted every flake of snow from his fire escape, but it didn’t linger. At least not on him. Instead, she checked out his apartment. It was clean, but that was the most he could say for it. It was a studio, and the heat barely worked, which made the howling wind outside seem even colder. “Great weather for getting naked,” she said.
Wow, she was direct. “Ideal for getting sweaty,” he noted.
With a hint of mischief giving her voice a lilt, she said, “I am all about getting sweaty.”
Unsure how to respond, he instead eyed the still-open door and hoped no one was out of eyesight, listening. The top floor of the apartment building was quiet. Currently, it was just him and Mrs. Harmon, the old woman who owned Mortimer the cat. The couple of college students using the place for a dorm had headed home after their winter exams. The fourth apartment was currently empty.
She hugged herself and glanced past him toward the window when a particularly violent gust hit.
He followed her gaze long enough to see the neighbor’s cat wasn’t still parked in the window, then turned his attention back to his invited guest. “I’m probably not helping my case in saying this, but I’m not a jerk. I’m actually exceptionally harmless.”
“Yeah, computer geeks are harmless,” she muttered.
“Computer geeks aren’t harmless?” he asked, bewildered by her evident distaste. “Besides, didn’t you say you were one?”
With a company that had hired him to find security holes in their programs.
That would have been a hell of a coincidence if not for the size and proximity of that firm. There were hundreds of employees, plus a handful of contractors like him who never quite made the radar—something he had no intention of mentioning.
With a slight shake of her head, she straightened and met his gaze, hers clear and determined. “Never mind. I’m pretty sure conversation was explicitly off the table, so I suppose we should get to the reason I’m here.”
“Which is not the best pickup line ever,” he said, oddly hesitant.
“No, for that, we’d have to go back to no relationships and great in the sack.” Somehow she managed to sound playful, even thought he was pretty sure she mocked him. Or herself.
He shrugged, though the light dancing in her eyes left him anything but indifferent. “I figured I’d weed out the romantics.”
“It didn’t work,” she said. “I’m a romantic at heart. Completely jaded for the moment, but I hope to recover someday.” She focused on his face and her lips flattened. “But not with you, so don’t worry.”
“I’ll hold you to that,” he said, only half-joking. Or maybe not joking at all.
She hadn’t ventured very far inside the apartment, so he had to reach past her to shut the door. He almost expected her to take a step back in the direction of a fast exit.
She didn’t.
Instead, she watched him. Maybe she was daring him, or at least testing him, which might have been okay if he knew what she wanted. But she was still holding a bag, still wearing a heavy coat, and still hovering near the door. Either she wanted a formal invitation, or she wanted to make a break for it.
Because in an epic where-the-hell-did-that-come-from moment, he really just wanted to kiss her.
He didn’t, though, because in that instant, both of their cell phones went off.
The noise broke the staring contest they’d fallen into, and she took a step back and dug in her purse.
He turned and blew a slow breath. He didn’t know what he was doing, but somehow had the impression he was doing it all wrong. “Winter Storm Goliath,” Olivia read, and he realized he hadn’t yet touched his phone. “Snow turning to ice turning to snow. Glad they nailed that down.”
He faced her. “Are you going back home, then?”
She tilted her head, mischief dancing in her eyes. “This is New York City. No one gets stranded by weather in New York City.”
Okay, then. “Well, in that case…” He gestured toward the sofa. She sank onto one end while he searched for a way to ask about the next step. Finally, he joined her and asked, “So how does this work?”
“I believe if you can summon the interest, there’s nudity and penetration involved.”
For a woman who was nervous, she was awfully blunt. He wasn’t used to that. Women he knew were more of the hinting type, only to blame him for not getting it. He liked how forward Olivia was, which was a problem in itself.
This wasn’t supposed to be personal.
She wasn’t supposed to snag his attention like this, already making him wish some other nameless, faceless woman could be more like her so he wouldn’t have to hit up the Internet for sex.
Yep. He was in over his head. He’d expected this to be a lot easier. He certainly hadn’t expected to care what she thought or said. It was a one-time encounter. He needed to get that through his head.
“Okay,” he said. “What do you like? Feigned romance? Indifference? Something hard and rough?”
She gawked, sexily. “You have to feign romance but not indifference?”
And that was what he got for asking considerate questions: answers that made him look like a jerk. “I am the least romantic guy you will ever meet. I can care without being romantic.”
She hit him with one of those looks he’d come to associate with not fine. “Well, on the heels of that glowing commentary, how about you just go for it?”
So he did, by taking her hand and encouraging her over to his side of the sofa, where she landed straddling his lap, facing him.
He stared, reverent. He still couldn’t believe this was going to be a thing, but she was definitely there, and definitely not about to clobber him.
In fact, she leaned toward him, brushing his mouth with her own. A hesitant tug on his lips, a lingering aftermath, and then he closed the distance, catching her lip between his own and tugging playfully. Then he swallowed her surprise, kissing her hard, allowing her to cling to him rather than him trapping her. Holding on.
When she arched against him, he felt every inch of the contact. Every soft, warm curve fit against him, and when he gave up resisting and flattened his hands against her back, she ended up closer still.
Hers were the softest, deepest kisses he’d ever known. Delicate but devouring. Demanding but sweet. They’d be hell to forget.
He slid his hands under her shirt and touched her bra. Wanted it gone.
He sucked at bras.
“Go for it,” she whispered against his mouth.
He had been but didn’t take the opportunity to say as much, at least not until the strap slipped and accidentally snapped against her back.
“The opening is at the front,” she said dryly.
“Who does that?” he asked, bewildered.
“An entire bra industry.”
“Just give me a second,” he said, fumbling now even more awkwardly at the front.
He could have sworn she laughed, but he didn’t care. He adjusted her so they were both sideways on the sofa, where he had better light. Not that he saw anything when he lifted her shirt. There was no hint of a clasp. “Are you kidding me?” he asked.
She shimmied on his lap, thrusting her breasts closer. “Right in the middle.”
Hell, now he’d forgotten all about awkward. His dick was rock hard, trapped down his pant-leg. She wriggled on top of it. He grimaced. “Ow.”
“What?”
“You’re going to need that thing,” he said.
Her head tilted forward when she looked down. “Oh, wow.”
“Just shift to the right a little. Please.”
She did, and he went back to the bra clasp. Surgery probably required less precision. He almost had it w
hen she leaned to the side, causing it to slip again.
He hated bras.
This time he carefully gathered both sides, barely registering that she’d reached for something on the coffee table when he had to move with her. He’d finally managed to begin the prying-apart process when a man’s voice filled the room.
Grady jumped, the clasp slipped but stayed stubbornly fastened, and he threw up his hands. “I give up.” He glanced at the noise. “Are you actually watching television?”
“It’s the weather,” she said. “There’s a storm.”
His jaw loosened, but he managed to stop himself from gaping his surprise. “I am literally undressing you.”
“Actually,” she countered, “you are literally not. Hence my decision to check the weather.”
Her tone was just teasing enough to convince him retaliation was in order. He stood, taking her with him, and took the remote, killing the television without looking.
Surprise widened her eyes.
“Take it off,” he said of the bra.
At first he thought she’d ignored him. Then he realized she’d pulled some kind of ninja move and had unhooked the goddamned thing one-handed. She somehow shrugged out of it despite her shirt, then held up the undergarment like a trophy, grinning like a cat with a mouthful of canary.
“Your move,” she said victoriously. “Make it count.”
Chapter Three
For the smallest of moments while the surprise in Grady’s eyes faded, Olivia’s heart caught in her throat. She’d never seen such intensity. Not ever. It was delicious and thrilling and consuming, and it happened in an instant.
And then he was kissing her.
Not that playful, nipping stuff he’d done on the sofa. This was hunger. It was passion.
It was ridiculous from someone she’d just met, not because he wasn’t amazing, but because he made every kiss she’d had before his seem weak and wasted.
This was supposed to be just sex. Acceptable sex. Most certainly not a kiss that was better than sex.
Maybe she wasn’t as hopelessly boring in bed as she’d thought. Granted, they weren’t in bed yet, but she was the one he devoured with that hungry gaze. He’d been too focused on her for it to be random, and it felt good. Too good.
Maybe her ex had affected her more than she thought—not only in breaking up with her, but in never looking at her like that. She’d forgotten how it felt.
She’d forgotten how she could feel.
Score one for the one-night stand.
And her. Most definitely her.
Walking backward, eyes closed, mercilessly addicted to the taste of him, she completely missed the realization that he was taking her to bed until the backs of her legs hit the mattress, toppling her. He went down after, not missing a beat. In fact, he somehow managed to move her shirt almost to her neck, leaving her exposed, nipples tight in a way that had nothing to do with the chill in the apartment.
It was all him.
She could have died a thousand times already, and they hadn’t even done anything yet.
He grazed her with his lips, teasing without following through. Before she could object, he pulled her shirt over her head.
When the fabric cleared, she found Grady staring. “What?” she asked.
“You have an amazing body.”
She glanced down at her less-than-ideal figure. The usual surge of self-consciousness didn’t hit—probably a direct result of not needing to impress him into wanting to see her again. But there was something else there, too. The utter appreciation he offered had been missing from her life, and while she didn’t need anyone’s approval but her own, she couldn’t deny the warmth brought on by his words. And she kind of hated it. “Relax. You’re already allowed in. No need to pour on the fake compliments.”
Gray eyes darkened to coal, the intensity catching her off guard. “I mean it,” he said. “I don’t bullshit; hence my problem with relationships.”
His words shouldn’t have gone straight to her heart like they did. Not just because he clearly believed what he said, but because that simple confession left her feeling a raw, battle-scarred connection, which was the last thing she needed. Better to forget her own turmoil and focus instead on his. “You’re with the wrong people if you have to bullshit your way through a relationship.” Which was an odd-ass thing to say in the middle of undressing for sex, but she was beginning to think that was precisely how this was going to go down.
Freaking odd. Stupendously, amazingly odd.
He hesitated, his expression caught in a troubled frown, then relaxing into a smile that she was pretty sure was all game. “I’m not here to talk about relationships, and I’m pretty sure you aren’t, either.” He punctuated that by kissing her, soft and slow and deep. Melting her.
She was beginning to really like odd.
Her second thoughts shifted from whether she could manage to have a one-night stand to whether she could manage to forget one. Because for a guy who couldn’t take off a bra, he was doing everything else right.
Which was completely wrong.
A soft bed—almost out of place in a studio apartment that was otherwise not indulgent—and tender, gentle kisses that encompassed her from head to toe. Everything she would have wanted, had either of them wanted more than one night.
She sighed, half-frustration, half-bliss, and threaded her fingers through his hair, silently ensuring he wouldn’t get away. He tried anyway, trailing kisses from her mouth to her jaw then her ear, the barest hint of stubble on his skin providing just enough friction to evoke chills. He hardly felt like a stranger. He felt like someone who knew everything about her.
This sucked. In every right, terribly wrong way, it sucked.
When he finally closed his mouth on her breast, she might have yanked out some of his hair, not that he seemed to notice. The touch felt like an electrical current; so much pleasure it was almost pain. She arched her back and abandoned her hold on him, flailing until she fisted the comforter.
Oh dear God.
He dipped lower, she arched higher…and then she saw it.
And screamed.
And possibly hit Grady in the head in the midst of her flailing.
He sat up on his knees and rubbed his jaw, while she scrambled away from the…monster. Or maybe a cat. “What the hell is that?” she asked.
He followed her gaze to the window, where that thing sat staring through the glass, unblinking, acid yellow eyes blazing.
“Neighbor’s cat,” he said, quite matter-of-factly, considering the thing looked like death. “His name is Mortimer, but my sister calls him Hell Cat.”
Well, that was appropriate for something that looked like death. Olivia studied it a moment longer before buying the explanation. “Is it…cold?”
“I don’t know. Do tiny demons get cold?”
She couldn’t argue with the demon reference, although if there was a cat under all that ugly, the poor thing might be chilly. “It’s coming down pretty hard out there.”
And it was. Beyond the cat’s dark mass of matted, haywire fur, large flakes fell with growing intensity. The snow was almost pretty, if you liked gray slush with your gray concrete. And a horribly ugly creature staring at you from outside.
“He lives next door and manages to navigate the gap between the fire escapes,” Grady explained, utterly matter-of-fact in the face of her abject fear. “Every time he wanders into this apartment, the neighbor comes over and hits me with her purse. He’s fine.”
She frowned. The thing was terrifying, but so was the weather. “He’s not fine. Let him in, or at least offer. Please. Because if you don’t, you’re going in my sadistic file, and I can’t have sex with anyone in my sadistic file.”
“But you can have sex with that thing staring at you?”
“I’ll manage. I promise.” Maybe.
Dubious, he asked, “Without hitting me in the face again?”
“Ideally,” she said, trying to swallow a nervous
laugh. She didn’t voice the rest of her thoughts, which were that if Hell Cat jumped on the bed with them, she might hit Grady in all kinds of places in her fight to keep that thing from stealing her entrails.
He swore—creatively—but climbed off the bed and opened the window. Snow immediately swirled in on frigid air currents, and the cat stepped in among the display, like some kind of inbred royalty. He hopped from the window and marched to the corner of the apartment that made up the kitchen and sat in front of the fridge.
Grady gave Olivia a look of utter exasperation, then traced the cat’s steps and yanked open the appliance door. He barely glanced inside before grabbing a Chinese takeout dish, after which he unfolded the container into a flat cardboard plate and placed it on the floor.
“I didn’t know you could do that to those cartons,” Olivia said.
“Something my brother-in-law showed me,” Grady said. Then he killed the light, giving her a slight confidence hit over the idea that he didn’t want to look at her naked. But before she could process that thought, he pointed outside. “The snow against the city lights.”
Her doubt vanished. “Wow, that’s almost…romantic.”
“Yeah, don’t go there.”
She watched him, convinced she could stare forever into those eyes. Not even a snow storm could kill the pit of ambient light that was New York City, and for once, she was grateful for the glow, which had never before offered such an amazing view. It was a good thing he was otherwise everything she didn’t want. Eye candy only went so far. There was no way she could live her life without romance, and here he was, recoiling at the very mention of the word.
But what else would a person expect from someone who used an app for sex?
Still.
“You went there,” she reminded him.
“I’m going here,” he said, tugging his shirt over his head.
She stared, her breath literally caught in her throat. He was hot. He worked on a computer all day. Surely something had to be soft on him other than his mouth, but there wasn’t an ounce of fat on the man. He wasn’t bulked up, no, but every arm and torso muscle was defined, straight down to the V-lines that cut pleasure paths into the waistband of his jeans.
One Sexy Mistake (Chase Brothers) Page 2