Page 8 of The Landlord
"Great. No pressure."
I reach over and place my hand over hers where it rests on her thigh. Her skin is soft, her fingers slender compared to mine. She glances at our hands, then up at me, her eyes questioning.
"Just establishing contact, Alyssa, so he sees."
She nods, but doesn't pull her hand away. Doug watches us with suspicious eyes from his end of the couch.
I don't know what possesses me, but I shift closer, sliding my arm around her shoulders. She stiffens for a moment, then exhales slowly and leans into me. The weight of her against my side feels right in a way I'm not prepared for, like the last piece of a puzzle slotting into place.
"Better," I say. "He's watching."
And he is. Doug's eyes are fixed on us, his head tilted in that way he has when he's trying to figure something out. He's probably wondering if I'm now Team Cat.
Alyssa turns her head to look at me, and suddenly our faces are very close. I can see her pupils blown wide, the slight flush on her cheeks, the freckles dotting her nose. Her lips part, and I forget all about Doug, forget about anything but the overwhelming urge to taste her.
"Damien?" she whispers.
My name on her tongue sounds so fucking good.
I'm suddenly, painfully aware of how long it's been since I've been this close to a woman. And not just any woman. Alyssa. The quiet tenant who's occupied far too many of my thoughts since she moved in, especially at night. God knows how many cold showers I took because of her.
"You smell good," I say, the words escaping before I can stop them. Just like that comment about the real thing being better, I don't know where the hell these words are coming from.
Her blush deepens. "Thank you."
Without thinking, I lift my hand to her face, cupping her cheek. Her skin is warm, soft beneath my calloused palm. She doesn't pull away. If anything, she leans into my touch, her eyes darkening.
It's that small movement that breaks my restraint. Not that I had much to begin with.
I lean in, closing the gap between us. The first touch of her lips against mine is tentative, questioning. Then she makes a small sound in the back of her throat, and something inside me snaps.
Fuck.
I deepen the kiss, my hand sliding into her hair, cradling the back of her head. Her lips are soft, yielding, opening beneath mine. She tastes sweet, and when my tongue sweeps into her mouth, she moans.
The sound goes straight to my cock, which is already straining against my jeans. I shift, trying to adjust without breaking the kiss, but it's futile. I'm hard as stone, and there's no hiding it.
Alyssa's hands clutch at my shoulders, her nails digging in through the fabric of my shirt. I want to feel those nails on my bare skin, want to feel her hands everywhere. I break the kiss, both of us breathing hard.
"We should stop," I say, though it's the last thing I want.
She looks up at me, her lips swollen from my kisses, her eyes dark with desire. "Why?"
Good question. I can't remember a single reason why this is a bad idea. All I can think about is how much I want her.
"Doug," I say, gesturing toward the end of the couch.
We both look. Doug is no longer watching us. He's curled up in a ball, his back to us, apparently bored with our display.
"I think he's given his approval," Alyssa says with a small laugh. Her hand slides down my chest, and my muscles contract beneath her touch. Jesus. One simple touch, and she sets my whole body on fire.
"Looks that way." My voice is a growl. I stand abruptly, pulling her up with me. "My place. Now."
I don't wait for her response, just scoop her up, one arm around her waist, the other under her knees. She lets out a surprised squeak but doesn't protest as I carry her to the door.
"What about Doug?" she asks as I manage to open it without setting her down.
"He'll be fine. Door's unlocked, he can get out if he wants." I'm beyond caring about what Doug might do in her apartment right now. All I can think about is getting Alyssa to my place, to my bed.
