Leon points at Alex. “Still better than none. Nice to meet you finally, Jane,” he calls out as he jogs back across the street.
I turn back to Alex, hoping he has now forgotten about my naked lightsaber slipup.
“Can I give you a ride home?”
Phew.
“Yes. Please.”
This time when he’s idling in front of my building, I don’t waste time.
“Thank you for the ride.” I sway in his direction, my eyes glued to his lips.
“You’re welcome.” He takes the hint and inches closer to me and then his lips are on mine.
Even though it’s not the first time, the magic is still there. Better than any magical closet. His fingers thread into my hair, angling my head. His tongue slides against mine. I groan, nipping at his bottom lip.
I slide closer on the bench seat, as close as I can get without crawling into his lap, although that is looking more and more like a viable option.
He breaks away. “Wow.” He’s breathing hard, air sawing in and out between us.
Heat fills me. I need him. “Do you want to come upstairs?”
His mouth pops open, but his eyes are hot and his gaze is heavy on mine. “I do.”
My heart leaps. Yes!
His head shakes slowly, eyes on mine, hot and drowsy with need, and yet he shuts them with a heavy exhale. “But I shouldn’t. This is too important.” His thumb trails over my bottom lip. “Damn.” He pulls back. “You should go. I’ll call you tomorrow?”
I strangle back a groan of frustration. “Right. Tomorrow.”
“What are your faults? Do you have any?”
He lets out a bark of surprised laughter. “Are you interviewing me for a job?” He twists to meet my eyes as we walk down Columbus Avenue, in the direction of the Saloon, after eating dinner again. I’m starting to discover his likes and dislikes based on how often he steals my food from my plate. Maybe that’s a flaw in and of itself, but I enjoy the intimacy of it.
“No, it’s just that there’s, like, nothing wrong with you. It’s sort of disturbing. You have to tell me something bad.”
“Let’s see.” He rubs his hands together. “I have terrible morning breath.”
I huff. “That’s not a flaw. Everyone has morning breath.”
“I smell when I sweat.”
I roll my eyes. “Let’s move on from normal human functioning to the good stuff. And by good stuff, I mean bad stuff. Are you a loud chewer? Do you have a third nipple? Maybe an extra toe? Oh, I know, you’re a compulsive liar and megalomaniac.”
“You caught me.” He stops, hand to his chest. “I’m a multiple-appendages-having egomaniac with an aversion for truth.”
“Now see, you go and say stuff like that and I can’t hold any of it against you.”
He laughs and then taps my shoulder. “Okay. I’ve got one. A real one. I can get, uh,” he winces and shoves his hands in his pockets, “a little obsessive sometimes.”
“Uh-oh. Is this going to turn into one of those things where you follow me around, clone my cell to track all my calls, and lock my ex in a book vault?”
His grin is blinding. “Of course not. If I cloned your cell, I wouldn’t need to follow you around.”
We both laugh, and then he grabs my hand, twining my fingers with his.
My insides melt.
“I don’t stalk people. But I do obsess over work. It started with games though, when I was a teenager, and then led to app design. Silly, mindless games were something to focus on other than my illness. I still fall back into obsessive patterns sometimes. Leon is forever pulling me from the brink. When I get really involved in a project, I don’t take breaks. I don’t sleep, I forget to eat. I missed a couple of gigs and Leon almost murdered me.”
“I can understand. I mean, I get into a single-minded focus too.” Like when all I cared about was getting my pitch just right. Or getting Alex to kiss me each night, to the exclusion of everything else. And now all I can think about is getting Alex naked.
How can I get him to come up to my apartment? Maybe I can lure him in with the promise of something other than my smokin’ hot bod, because clearly, that’s not enough of an enticement.
“Hey, Pickle Juice!”
This again.
Leon almost gets hit by the car, again. They banter, Leon is called away, and wait for it . . .
“Can I give you a ride home?”
“Yes.”
After he parks in front of my apartment, he kisses me good night. Like every time, my body becomes liquid heat. Lust permeates the air and penetrates my bones. I get so worked up I might detonate out of existence.
“Please come upstairs?”
He rests his forehead against mine. Then he sighs. “No, I better not. This is too important.” Sweet words. A light fingertip over my bottom lip. “I’ll call you tomorrow?”
“Right, sure. Tomorrow.” Can he hear my teeth grinding?
“Do you want to come back to my place for some coffee? Tea? Water?”
I’m trying a new tactic. Asking him over before we’re sitting in front of my apartment. It’s a long shot, but I don’t know what else to do short of crying and yelling and begging, and none of that screams “sex me up.”
We’re walking up the street toward the Saloon. Again. I have little faith this will work. Alex cares too much about our future to risk it by moving too quickly. I know. I’ve heard it. Over and over and over.
But since my future doesn’t exist, I’m not giving up. Not yet. Maybe if I ask at different points of the night, I’ll get lucky—both literally and figuratively.
“Not tonight. Maybe another time.”
Frustration is a volcano inside me about to blow the top right off my head. “What if we don’t have another time?”
His hands are warm on my shoulders, his expression regretful. “What we have is too important. We don’t need to rush things.”
I groan. “You say that every time.”
He
