Page 76 of Player For Hire
Dear Frankie, thanks for getting me laid.
I swallowed a laugh as I tried the doorknob. Sure enough, it was open.
“Colder?” I peeked in and my little purse slid down my arm as I stood there in shock. I barely caught it before it hit the floor. I set it on the little table just inside the door. Music was playing and the room was golden and soft with candles on every surface. On the coffee table, the end tables, all along the top of his bookcase that sectioned off the living room from his bedroom space.
More of the battery kind were all over the bookcase and led me deeper into the room. A few were grouped on the floor and as I walked around the bookcase, I saw more were clustered in the skinny window as well as around the bedside tables. He had to have a bought out a store.
For me.
I swallowed down a lump in my throat as he came out of the kitchen. He had a red apron on over a black button-down shirt and dark washed jeans.
He wasn’t kidding when he’d gone all in with our version of a date.
His gaze raked over me, hot with need and still that sweet Colder I’d first gotten hooked on at the bookstore. “You look amazing.”
“Thanks.” I played with the ends of my hair. It was a little curly thanks to the space buns, and I’d left it as a tumble of wildness around my shoulders. “I can’t believe you did all this.”
“Of course. You’re worth way more, but this was what I could do on short notice.”
Honestly, I couldn’t remember the last time anyone had taken the time to cook me dinner, or do anything so romantic—no, make that ever. No one had ever treated me this special. “Whatever it is, it smells really good.”
He wiped his hands on the towel tucked into the strings of the apron. “We have some time before dinner. My brother walked me through the sauce.”
I laughed. “Sauce?”
“Yeah, just a red sauce. I’m not that great of a cook. He definitely got all that talent in the family. But I can handle spaghetti and meatballs.”
“And I can handle eating it.”
He laughed as he untied the apron and pulled it over his head. He stopped at his stereo and swapped the music out for something more acoustic flavored before he moved to me and pulled me into his arms.
There wasn’t much room in the space, but he settled us into a soft, sweet sway. “How did your writing go?”
“Really good. That playlist was just what I needed. I don’t know how you always know what I need,” I murmured into his chest.
He laced his fingers along my lower back. “You make it easy. How often do I meet a girl who loves a lot of the same things as I do?”
“I don’t know, how often?” I peered up at him.
“Not often, Naomi.” He lowered his mouth to mine. His kisses tasted of mint and a hint of the sweet sauce that he must have just sampled.
We swayed and danced for a little while. Our movements were unhurried and easy in a way I’d never known.
Ruining me for any other man.
When the raspy voice of James Arthur pumped through the speakers, he gently traced his fingers up along my back to my neck where my dress tied. “Hungry?”
“Not for food.”
With a grin, he tugged the tie free. “Me neither.”
The straps slid down my arms and pooled between us as his silvery eyes glowed in the golden light. His touch was easy and teasing as he traced the lines of my bra and around the curve of my breast without touching my nipple, which was already painfully tight.
Slowly, he drew lazy circles along my midsection before pushing my dress off my hips to pool around my feet. He drew me deeper into the bedroom part of his apartment and sat on the edge of the bed. His big hand slid around my waist to tug me between his legs.
“Did you wear this for me?”
The deep timber of his voice made me shiver as I nodded.