Page 30 of Play Book

She laughs. “You don’t think he lives the way he lives on his salary?”

“I had no idea.”

“Well, let me be clear: If he was involved, he’ll answer for it. I put up with a great deal because he’s as close as I ever came to having a child and I’m trying to fix what his mother broke, but this isn’t something I’m willing to sweep under the rug. I’ll be in touch!” With that, she disconnects and leaves me feeling more discombobulated than ever.

If Russell did it, I’ll be relieved but simultaneously disappointed in myself.

Could I have handled our date differently?

He was an asshole, but he didn’t hurt me, so I could have shown a little more grace simply by virtue of the fact that he was Bertie’s nephew.

Oh, who am I kidding?

I don’t need to put up with a man’s bad behavior to placate his aunt. Even if she’s a friend. I’m stronger than that. And have more pride.

That’s something I have to remember.

The afternoon somehow gets away from me, and I’ve just gotten out of the shower when I hear the doorbell. Glancing at the clock, I realize it’s five fifty-eight and let out a little shriek of annoyance.

Shit!

I yank on my bathrobe and hurry to open the door for Canyon.

“Hi!” I grimace apologetically. “I’m so sorry I’m running late! I decided?—”

He doesn’t let me finish, pushing his way inside while simultaneously covering my mouth with his. He kicks the door shut behind us and wraps one arm around my waist.

“This is absolutely perfect,” he breathes against my mouth.

“Oh.” I’m momentarily startled, but then understanding dawns and I wind my arms around his neck. “Yes. I guess it is.”

He lowers his mouth to mine again, less urgently this time, but there’s a hunger there that’s impossible to miss. His tongue takes possession of mine as if he owns it, stroking and curling with delicious precision. I lean into it, anxious for more of his touch.

I’m hungry too.

And it has nothing to do with food.

There’s probably some underlying psychological message to this, in response to that ugly word on my gallery wall, but I don’t give a shit. I want him. Want this. Like I’d told Harper earlier, there’s something about Canyon that makes me want to know more. If I get my heart broken, I’ll survive. It won’t be the first time.

“Fuck, you kiss like a dream,” he growls.

“Let’s take this to the bedroom,” I whisper.

“Yes. Let’s.” He scoops me up, just like he’d done last night, and carries me down the hall, his mouth never leaving mine.

Still kissing me, he sinks onto the bed with me on his lap, and slowly unties the belt at my waist.

“You naked under there?” he asks in a raspy voice.

“And wet,” I reply, trying to keep a straight face.

He chuckles. “Well, if you’re not, you will be.”

It seems like his hands are everywhere, doing everything but nothing at all. He’s touching me, but they’re more like sensual caresses. My shoulder, the curve of my hip, the tops of my thighs. Soft and gentle, but decidedly erotic. Almost as if he’s pacing himself and giving us a little time to warm up to each other.

Not that I need warming up.

My skin is heated and on high alert, my body tingling with need.

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