by Darcy Burke
Crap, it certainly looked like it. But she could stop it from feeling like one—if she wanted to. Hell.
Right now she didn’t know what she wanted—she only knew that for the first time in ages, she felt good, and she didn’t want that to end.
SEAN WAITED FOR her answer, but it never came. She scooped up her glass and preceded him from the room. He followed her out, watching the sway of her hips as she climbed the stairs back up to the main floor.
After a short but bracing nap, he’d awoken to an empty apartment. Since she’d said she had to go to the house, he’d gone in search of her and had found Kyle cooking dinner for four. It had looked like a double date, but even if it was, Sean had his guard up. After the last twenty-four hours with her, he’d be stupid not to.
He’d helped Kyle finish up the dinner and had set four places at the kitchen table. He had no idea where Rob and Emily were, but they weren’t at home.
Kyle pulled two wineglasses from a cabinet near the beer bar as they entered the kitchen. “You want wine, Sean?”
“Definitely.”
The place settings were two on either side of the table, and it looked like Maggie and Kyle had claimed the side closest to the kitchen. Maggie was already seated.
Kyle set the empty glasses on the table next to the wine bottle and glanced at Sean. “You pour while I get the plates.”
Sean filled their glasses, then topped off the ladies’.
“Thank you,” Maggie said, smiling up at him.
Kyle brought the dinners over—he’d plated a gorgeous meal with steak, a port sauce containing mushrooms, a medley of root vegetables, and seared kale.
“Dig in,” Kyle said. “It’s losing heat fast.”
Maggie picked up her silverware. “Looks delicious.”
Sean glanced at Tori, who’d sat down opposite Kyle. She looked delicious, but he wouldn’t say so. He wasn’t sure what her plan was for tonight, but he assumed there would be some sort of torture involved. Would she pull that stuff in front of her brother? She’d seemed to lay off while they were at the ten-K, and then in front of that woman at the bookstore she’d been positively possessive. Talk about a total shift.
Sean sat down and cut into his steak. “This is amazing. Kyle, I have to get you on a cooking show. A friend of mine works on Chopped. Would you be interested?”
Kyle swallowed and then grinned. “Hell yes. I love that show. I’m constantly yelling at the contestants, right, babe?” He glanced at Maggie.
“It’s true,” she said. “And he’s not afraid to eat or cook anything. He’d be perfect on that show. Honestly, he ought to judge it, but I think he’d rather win.”
He gave her a sly look. “How about I win and then judge it?”
Sean tried not to envy their banter. “I’ll talk to my friend. I’d also be interested in producing a show about the opening of The Arch and Fox—chronicle the renovation and everything you’re doing to launch a five-star restaurant.”
Kyle paused in eating. “Wow. That would be incredible.” His eyes were animated with excitement as he looked at first Tori and then Maggie. “Can you imagine what that would do for the restaurant?”
“You’d be famous.” Maggie frowned. “Women would probably throw themselves at you—successful and hot.” She shook her head. “No, I don’t think I like this idea.”
Sean chuckled as he took a drink of wine. “This pinot is great. I see why you two hit it so hard.”
“Hey, we didn’t drink that much!” Maggie grabbed the neck of the bottle and brought it closer to inspect the contents. “On second thought, maybe we did.” She flashed Tori a conspiratorial smile and lifted her glass in silent toast.
Tori raised her glass and took a long drink. “So good.” She licked her lips, and Sean’s jeans felt suddenly tight.
He searched his brain for something to say to distract himself from thoughts of Tori that would likely go absolutely nowhere. “So you guys were talking about bad dates? Reminds me of our first night in Vegas.” He looked at Tori. “You remember that couple at the Venetian?”
A couple had fallen from their gondola into the waterway, and the woman had been wearing white. With a thong and pasties.
Tori giggled. “I’d forgotten that. You could see just about everything.”
“And she couldn’t have cared less.”
“Totally,” Tori said. “She flaunted everything she had, and he ate it up. I think they wanted to put on a show, but security escorted them out before they could get too serious.”
“That doesn’t sound like a bad date,” Kyle said. “Sounds kind of hot.”
Maggie playfully smacked his arm. “Knock it off.”
Sean shifted in his seat at the memory. “It was very hot.” In fact, the display had given him and Tori their own idea. They’d gone up to their room, where he’d taken her directly to the shower. It had been a large walk-in, and they’d gone in fully clothed, though they didn’t emerge that way.
Sean glanced over at Tori and was surprised to find her eyes on him. Was she thinking about the same thing? Was the memory heating her in all the right places like it was him?
“That was fun,” she said softly, her voice low and dark. She took a drink of wine and set the glass back on the table. Her fingers stroked the stem, and he was mesmerized by the suggestive movement. “We had a lot of great nights like that.”
Was she sharking him? Then again, did a woman really need to pursue her own husband? The thought of shagging her brought his cock to full attention. “We did,” he said slowly, afraid to hope . . .
Kyle interrupted the charged moment with questions about whether the Chopped gig could actually happen, and the conversation turned—disappointingly—to talk of television shows and food. Sean was careful to keep from talking about the “Where Are They Now?” special. Kyle seemed to sense that was the case and stayed away from it, too. As the meal wore on, the women giggled more and more, and it became evident that they were at least tipsy, if not downright drunk.
Tori pushed her plate away. “I think I’m done. What should we do now?” She finished her glass of wine. “I know, more wine.” She held her glass up for a refill.
Kyle picked up the bottle and swung it like a pendulum. “Empty.” They’d polished it off during dinner.
“There’s more where that came from,” Tori sang, standing up from the table.
“Yes!” Maggie agreed, standing with her.
“I think you’ve maybe had enough,” Kyle said to Maggie. “Let me throw these dishes in the dishwasher, and I’ll take you home.”
Maggie exhaled. “Boo. But you’re probably right.”
Tori went to the beer counter and picked up an empty pint glass. “Hey, where’d my beer go?”
“Sean drank it,” Kyle said as he bused the dishes.
“That was my beer,” she said, slurring slightly. She walked around the bar and held the glass beneath the tap. She pulled the lever, but Sean stopped her when the glass was half full.
“You sure you want to drink that?” He’d seen her drunk before and knew she was probably past her tolerance level. “If you want to feel like a human being in the morning, I recommend you don’t.”
She pouted. “You are annoyingly correct. How do you know me so well?”
He laughed. “I thought you said I didn’t know you well at all.”
She took a drink of the beer despite his warning and gestured with the glass, causing a bit to splash over her hand. While he suspected last night’s beer spill had been calculated, tonight’s was due to inebriation.
He took the glass from her fingers. “Time to go. Come on, love.” He took the glass to Kyle, who arched a brow at him. “Thanks for dinner, Kyle.”
“Night, bro.”
Sean put his arm around Tori and escorted her across the kitchen.
“He’s not your bro,” she said to Kyle. “He’s barely my husband.”
Sean ushered her out of the house and guided her toward the apartm
ent. He probably should’ve just taken her upstairs to her own bedroom, but it was too late for that—they were closer to the apartment bed.
He held the door open for her, and she started up the stairs, stumbling almost immediately. He rushed to help her the rest of the way.
Halfway up, she pulled away from him. “I got this.” She jogged to the top and turned, grinning.
He hurried to catch up and was glad he did because she swayed. He caught her before she could fall.
She put her arms around his neck. “Oopsie.” Her gaze connected with his, and she squinted at him. “You are so cute. Why do you have to be so cute? Why can’t you look like a troll?”
He chuckled. “Blame my parents—they’re attractive people, what can I say?”
“They sound so nice.” She pushed against him, and he nearly tumbled backward.
“Come on, let’s get you in bed.” He steered her backward on the landing toward the door to the apartment.
She arched a sexy brow, and he would’ve said she was flirting with him. “Are you propositioning me?”
He opened the door and got her over the threshold, her grip on his neck never loosening. The press of her body against his was a bloody distraction. He’d had a bit to drink himself—nowhere near what she’d had—but it would be far too easy to give in to temptation. “Come on, bedtime. Do I need to carry you?” he asked.
She pushed her breasts against his chest. “Yes.”
That he couldn’t resist. He bent and swept her into his arms. She weighed next to nothing, which was impossible to believe given the muscles in her legs.
She nuzzled his neck as he carried her into the bedroom. Faint illumination from the exterior lights on the garage filtered through the blinds. It was just enough for him to find the bed. He gently laid her down and told himself to walk away. “Good night.”
She grabbed his shirtfront and pulled him down. “Wait. Aren’t you going to help me get undressed?”
He swallowed a groan as his brain fought a battle with his body. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”
“Why not? You’re the one who keeps reminding me we’re married.” She pulled her sweater over her head and dropped it to the floor.
He swallowed as the pale light splashed over the swell of creamy flesh pushing up from her lacy bra. “Tori, I should go.”
“Don’t.” She curled her hands into his shirt and tugged him down until his lips met hers.
Pulled off balance, he fell on top of her. She thrust her tongue up into his mouth, kindling the fire they’d ignited at dinner. Hell, it had started on New Year’s Eve and had never truly gone out.
Their tongues clashed as she moved her hands to his back. She gripped his shirt in her fist and slid her other hand to his arse, where she clutched at him. She spread her legs so he nestled right between her thighs. Despite their jeans, he felt the heat of her core and couldn’t help but grind against her.
They thrust and moved as if they were having sex, but there were way too many clothes in the way. As if reading his mind, she tugged his shirt up his back. He broke the kiss long enough to pull it up over his head and throw it aside. Her mouth opened on his chest, her lips and tongue wreaking mayhem over his heated flesh.
He cupped the back of her head and brought her lips to his once more, assaulting her mouth with months of unanswered need and want. They fell back onto the bed, and her hands splayed over his shoulder blades and caressed his back until settling on his hips. She pulled him into her as she thrust up.
Their movements grew more frenzied, hips and hands and mouths working in a desperate attempt to feel more. He tore his mouth from hers and licked his way to her breasts. She arched up against him, silently begging. Until she wasn’t silent.
“Sean.” She moaned softly, her fingers tangling in his hair. He cupped her breast and suckled the soft flesh spilling from the top of her bra. But it wasn’t enough. He slipped his hand beneath her and she came up off the bed to give him access. With a few artful flicks of his fingers, her bra came loose and joined their discarded clothes God-knew-where.
Her breasts were small but full and round, with the most delicious pink nipples. He pulled one into his mouth, sucking hard and wringing a cry from her throat. She curled her legs around his thighs. The sounds of him tormenting her breast and her answering cries of approval filled the room, stirring his lust even hotter. He hadn’t forgotten how this was with her, but instead of a dark, distant memory, it was present. It was real. It was more than he’d ever dreamed possible.
Her hands came between them, and she worked to open his jeans. “Stupid button,” she slurred.
Sean lifted his head and looked down at her face. Her brow was furrowed, her lips twisted in concentration. He remembered she was absolutely crocked, and he was not that guy. “Tori, we should stop.”
She frowned up at him. “Why?”
“You’re drunk. As much as I’m into this—and don’t doubt for a second that I want you like crazy—I want you to be sure you want me, too.”
“I do. Duh.” Her lips spread into a sexy grin. “I’m trying to take your pants off.”
He wanted to laugh, but he needed to extract himself from this situation before it was too late. “And I promise you can. Just not tonight.” He gently pulled her legs from around his hips and climbed off the bed.
“You’re a party pooper,” she muttered, already sounding like she was half asleep.
He unbuttoned her pants and pulled them from her. Her muscles went limp. He picked his T-shirt up off the floor and drew it over her head. Then he pulled the covers from under her and tucked her in. She curled away from him, her deep breathing filling the room as she fell completely into slumber.
He stared down at her a long moment and wondered what tonight had been about. After her antics of the last day, he didn’t know what was going on. Hopefully tomorrow he’d find out.
Chapter Eleven
GRAY LIGHT NUDGED into Tori’s consciousness. She rolled to her back. The slight movement brought pain to her head and an unsettling discomfort to her insides. How much had she drunk last night? Four, five glasses of wine? Plus the beer. Gah, she didn’t know the last time she’d imbibed so much.
She blindly reached for the nightstand and the bottle of water she’d staged there the night before. Her hand met nothing but air and then an alarm clock and then her phone, which she inadvertently knocked to the floor.
Memory flooded her mind; she hadn’t put a water bottle there because she’d gotten too drunk first. Cursing herself, she slowly opened her eyes. What time was it? Bracing herself, she turned her head to look at the clock. Eleven fifty-one. Damn, she hadn’t slept that late in ages.
She needed water stat. First, however, she had to summon the ability to actually sit up, and right now that seemed impossible without having her head explode and perhaps vomiting.
You can do this. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and was instantly smacked with Sean’s special cologne. She opened her eyes and realized she was wearing his shirt. Straining her brain, she tried to remember what happened. She’d flirted with him. He’d carried her into the bedroom. Then she’d kissed him.
That had not been her plan.
To his credit, he’d called things off before too much had happened, at least that’s what she remembered. She had no recollection of how she’d ended up wearing his shirt, which meant she’d passed out. Had he taken advantage? No, she might contend they didn’t know each other very well, but she was certain he would never do that. And she wasn’t even sure she believed that anymore—last night they’d shared memories, he’d recognized when she’d had too much to drink, he’d taken care of her. They knew each other better than she wanted to admit.
Moving as slowly as possible, she hoisted herself into a sitting position. Once there, she waited until the room settled down before standing. That took considerably more effort. The floor tilted, and she reached for the headboard to stabilize herself. The bed beckoned
her to return, but she needed water more than anything else.
With arduous, trudging steps, she made her way to the door. She opened it and peered into the living room, but it was empty. Exhaling a sigh of relief that she was alone, she shuffled to the kitchen, where she knew the fridge held at least a half dozen bottles of water.
Before she reached it, however, the front door opened to reveal Sean dressed in a cycling outfit. His hair was mussed, and he smelled of fresh air and sweat. It reminded her of a great run. She loved that smell.
“You’re up,” he said, smiling. “Can I get you something?”
“Just water.” Her head throbbed with a burst of pain as if to say, what about me? “And maybe some Tylenol or something.”
“I can do both of those things.” He shut the door and stepped inside, dropping his cycling shoes on the floor. “Here, why don’t you sit down?” His hand grazed her lower back as he guided her toward the living room.
“I’ll just sit here.” She pulled at one of the stools tucked under the kitchen bar.
He situated it for her and helped her sit. “Water and Tylenol coming up.”
She sat mute while he moved into the bathroom and then the kitchen. He opened the bottle of water and set it before her with a pair of pills. “Is that enough, or do you need more?”
“It’s fine.” She downed the pills and half the water. Her stomach protested the invasion, and she set her hand flat on the counter to steady herself.
“You okay?”
“I’m good.”
He gave her a cynical stare. “You’re hungover.”
“Maybe.”
“Are we going back to the way things were yesterday? You pretending?”
Damn, if he was aware of that, her entire plan was in danger of crashing and burning. Operation Divorce Me needed a new phase if she had any hope of getting Sean out of her life. Her brain tried to think of something, but she was too fried at the moment. She just kept staring at him and thinking how gorgeous he was; she particularly appreciated the way those bike shorts hugged his thighs—thighs she’d encircled last night. She’d almost forgotten how good they felt against hers . . . Reality intruded on fantasy as she took in his clothing.