Page 47 of Mensa's Match

He caught Whitney’s gaze. “You at Nadia’s shop tomorrow?”

“Yep.”

“I’ll be there too, but you’re coming with me at eleven-forty-five to the clubhouse.”

Her nostrils flared with her inhale. “Mensa, I’ve already—”

“No arguments or I’ll call Nadia and convince her you need the day off.”

Her blue eyes widened. “You fight dirty.”

He grinned. “No, I fight to win.”

She scowled. “For the record, I’mlettingyou win… this time.”

He smiled knowingly. “Whatever you say, Blume.”

Whitney stood in front of his bed at the clubhouse, glancing around his room. “Wow. I can see why you’d give up an apartment. You got a full bar out there, someone apparently cooks, and your room is much bigger than I expected.”

Mensa cocked a brow at her. “It’s the exact same size as that hotel room.”

She threw her head back with laughter. “Far from it.”

He wrapped his arms around her from behind, inhaling her intoxicating floral perfume. “Very same square footage, woman.”

She settled her hands on his forearms. “Well, this is much better than a hotel room from what I can see.”

He unfastened the button on her shorts and made fast work of the zipper. “So much better because nobody here slams their fuckin’ doors at three-forty-five in the morning.”

She twisted in his hold before he could shove her shorts down. “I don’t know why you sound bitter about that.”

“I like my sleep,” he lied.

In truth, he owed that person huge. If it weren’t for that door waking them up, they’d never have admitted to wanting each other, they’d have gone their separate ways, and then… he shut down that line of thought.

They were here now, and he’d never felt such strong feelings about a woman.

He couldn’t tell her any time soon, but he was falling for her.

It wasn’t just the physical attraction between them, either. He loved how she didn’t take his shit, even when they both claimed to despise each other. The backbone and spunk she showed appealed to him. She surprised him at every turn, and he admired how calm she was when shit hit the fan. Riley would have lost it if she came home to a ransacked apartment, but Whitney kept it together while her home was full of crime techs.

She slid her hands up his chest, cutting into his thoughts. “I’ve yet to meet anyone over twenty-five whodoesn’tlike their sleep, but that look on your face tells me there’s more to it.”

He schooled his expression. “Nope. Nothing else to it, Blume. You gonna let me kiss you, or what?”

The glint in her eye captured his attention a split-second before she went up on her toes and kissed him. Much like when they were on her couch and when they were at the beach, it escalated fast.

He slid his hands around her waist and down to her ass. She arched into his hands making him hum his approval. A woman could say she liked what he did to her, but responding and showing him she liked it said so much more.

Whitney broke the kiss and nuzzled his neck. “How do you make me lose control?”

Stepping back from her, he yanked his shirt over his head. “I need to figure that out, so I can do it all the time.”

She grinned and took off her shirt.

He blinked at the sight of her pink lace bra. Her hands went behind her back, and he stopped her progress. “Don’t take this off yet. Your tits look fantastic in this bra.”

He traced his fingers along the edge of one cup. It was faint, but he saw her nipple harden beneath the lace. He circled it with his thumb.

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