“I don’t need your help,” I tell him, clapping him on the chest. “I’ll be back.”
I don’t give him a chance to argue, or Angie a chance to approach, before I walk out of the room. Thankfully, the elevator is on my side and opens immediately when I press the button.
Room seven-oh-four.
That got a weird reaction out of me because it’s the same as my condo number. At the time, it felt like kismet, like something amazing was supposed to happen in that room, but I know better.
The elevator is on fire tonight because it shoots me up to the seventh floor without so much as a stutter, leaving me with little to no time to compose myself.
I don’t hesitate to knock on her door because the sooner she shows me whatever she needs to, the sooner I can get back downstairs. Maybe Angie isn’t such a bad idea after all.
“Hey,” she says as she opens the door.
My mouth is suddenly dry, as if all the moisture has been sucked from the air at the sight of her in a silk robe.
“Umm,” I say stupidly, doing my best to keep my eyes on hers rather than drifting down to her tanned legs like they’re trying to do.
“Come in,” she says, stepping to the side in a way that threatens to make my cock jerk in my slacks. I know she’s just moving out of my way, but my head is trying to make it seem like a seductive move. I’ve made those mistakes more than once in my life, and the last time I did it, I ruined the friendship I had with this woman.
The night I kissed Jules Warren, she was watching my mouth as I spoke. I saw it as a sign that she wanted exactly what I offered, but she didn’t. That night was the beginning of the end of what little we had. I can’t make the same mistake twice. As hard as it is to see her regularly at my parents’ house, not seeing her at all because I fucked up a second time and made things even more weird between us would kill me.
“Is it a gift?” I ask stupidly when I’m finally able to pull my eyes away from her and look around the room. “Something for Beth and Spencer?”
“Not for them,” she says, and I swear I sense a hint of that same seduction in her tone.
“What is it?” I ask, turning to face her as the door clicks closed.
As innocuous as that sound is, it has a sexual effect on me. My cock begins to fill, and as much as I know I should, I just can’t seem to look away from her.
“Me.”
I tilt my head, confused more than ever. “What’s you?”
“I’m what I wanted to show you.”
I swallow thickly because surely she doesn’t mean—
Deft fingers tug open the silk tie around her waist a mere second before pink-tipped fingernails pull open her robe.
Forget fighting an erection. I’m seconds away from fighting an orgasm. Like no joke. My balls tighten as the tip of my cock dampens my boxer briefs.
“Jules,” I say, both in awe and completely baffled at what the hell is going on right now.
Did I trip coming off the elevator and hit my head? Am I actually unconscious and dreaming?
“Kit,” she whispers, her voice no louder than the silk she slides down her arms.
If I thought for a second the robe falling off was an accident, I’d turn around until she was decent, but as her finger traces the top swell of her breast, I know this is no mistake. Well, not a mistake in the sense that she’s being sexy as fuck on purpose, but it’s still a mistake, nonetheless.
“I don’t understand,” I say stupidly.
She’s all but holding a giant touch me sign, and I’m once again locked in place, much like I was downstairs before building enough strength to even knock on her door.
I feel like I’m in an alternate universe, and if I move, it will all fade away.
“Touch me.”
“Touch you? Jules, I—” I swallow the lump that has formed in my throat, my eyes trailing over every inch of lace touching her skin. First, I focus on her amazing breasts, then allow myself to look lower. The scrap of fabric between her trim thighs makes me groan.
“Why?” I ask, knowing it’s so many questions rolled into one. Why now? Why me? Just… why?
She chuckles, the sound light yet tinted with a hint of uncertainty.
“How much have you had to drink?”
“Two, no, three white wine spritzers,” she answers. I look into her eyes, trying to determine whether she’s had too much to drink to think straight.
She doesn’t seem intoxicated, and I didn’t feel that way myself until I stepped inside this room.
“I’m trying to be a gentleman,” I say, scraping my hand over my face quickly because I’ll be damned if I’m going to waste a second of seeing her like this before she smartens up and pulls that damn robe back on.