“I’ll be out in a minute,” I yell back, dropping the gloss back into the drawer before going to the bedroom to put on my boots.
“Your sis . . . Holy shit,” he says, and I look up from the boots that I’m zipping up and find him in the doorway staring at me.
“What’s wrong?”
“Where are you going?” he asks, scanning me from the top of my head, down over the black wrap dress I’m wearing, ending on the knee-high black leather boots with pointed toes and three-inch heels on my feet.
“I told you this afternoon, remember? My sisters and I are going to Hank’s showing in SoHo.” I’m not really surprised he doesn’t remember, since I brought it up right after we had sex when we were doing the whole lazy-talk thing I love so much.
“You’re wearing a dress.”
“Yes, well, it’s a fancy showing, so I have to dress up.”
“I’ve never seen you in a dress.”
“That’s because it’s winter, and I normally don’t wear dresses in the winter unless I’m going someplace fancy, hence the showing and the dress.”
“What did you do to your hair?” he asks, wrapping a strand of my straightened hair around his finger.
“I had a little time, so I decided to straighten it,” I explain, then press my hand against his chest when he takes a step closer, so close that I know he’s going to try to make me dizzy. I don’t have time for that, because I can hear my sisters talking in the living room.
“I’m rethinking you going to this thing.”
“What?”
“You look . . . Jesus, you look fucking amazing right now.”
Smiling like a loon, I whisper, “Thanks,” then push against his chest again when he starts to get even closer. “You can’t mess me up or make me dizzy, so you need to stop.” I try to sound firm, but the words come out in a low whimper as his body presses the length of mine and his hand squeezes my ass.
“He’s not allowed to touch you.”
“Who?” I ask, dipping my head to the side as his mouth travels up my neck to my ear.
“That art dude. He’s not allowed to touch you, do you understand?”
“Why would I let him touch me?” I say, trying to comprehend what he’s saying, but my brain is short-circuiting with the way his mouth and tongue are moving along my neck.
“You wouldn’t, but I guarantee he’s going to try,” Levi says; then I feel his lips tug on my neck, and I pull back, stunned.
“Did . . . did you just try to give me a hickey?” I ask in disbelief, holding my neck, and he looks from me to the open bedroom door.
“Fawn’s gonna be a minute,” he growls toward the living room, shutting the door on my sisters, who start to laugh.
“Levi,” I warn, watching him prowl toward me. I walk backward until I have no place left to go and my back is literally against the wall. “Stop,” I plead half-heartedly, watching his eyes drop to his fingers beginning to trail along the front V of my dress, which he brings down along with my bra, baring my breasts to him.
“I’ve never felt the need to possess someone the way I feel the need to own you,” he mutters to me—or to himself—right before his mouth latches on to my breast and he pulls, sucking hard, so hard that I feel it in my core and know I’m going to have his mark on me and be soaking wet before he’s done.
“Levi.” I latch onto his hair. His fingers skate up under my dress, along my inner thigh, slide my panties to the side, and flick over my clit, making my hips jump.
“Wet. Always so damn wet for me,” he says as he runs his nose up my throat, nips my bottom lip, then thrusts his tongue into my mouth as one finger thrusts inside me, sending me to my tiptoes.
“Don’t stop,” I beg as my core starts to throb in beat with his one finger that turns into two. Just like that, with barely a touch from him, I’m already so close to flying over the edge. “Levi,” I mewl in disappointment when his fingers disappear, leaving me on the edge of an orgasm.
“When you come home, I’ll take care of you,” he says, putting his fingers to his mouth and sucking them clean, then taking a step back.
“That’s . . . that . . . that was not nice,” I pant, and he grins a grin I’ve never seen on him before, then ducks his face until we are sharing the same air.
“What’s not nice is knowing my woman looks more beautiful than I’ve ever seen her and she’s going to spend time with another man.”
“I’m not spending time with another man,” I huff as I fix my bra and my dress, completely annoyed with him and his caveman ways. “I’m spending time with my sisters.”
“Is he going to be there?”
“Well, yeah, it’s his showing, but there are going to be lots of men there.” Levi narrows his eyes on me, and then shakes his head as his phone rings.
“Fuck,” he clips, looking at the screen before putting it to his ear. “What’s up?” he asks, and I watch his eyes close briefly. “Finally. All right, I’ll be there,” he says, then hangs up.
“Is it Tamara’s mom?” I ask hopefully.
“Juan,” he says, making me feel worry and relief all in one instant.
“Where is he?”
“You know I can’t tell you that, baby,” he says, stepping toward me and wrapping his arm around my waist. “I don’t know when I’ll be home,” he says quietly. I nod, then lay my head against his chest and wrap my arms around him.
“I’ll be here when you get back,” I say, wanting so badly to tell him I love him.
“Be good and send me a text when you get to and get back from the showing.”
“I will,” I agree, feeling his lips on my hair right before he uses the tips of his fingers to tilt my head back so he can kiss my mouth. “Be safe.”
“Always,” he agrees, taking hold of my face. “You look gorgeous, baby, and you owe me a date where you wear this dress so I can take it off you when we get home.”
“Sir, you owe me a date where you give me a reason to wear this dress.” I smile, and he shakes his head, kissing me once more before letting me go. He heads for the door.
Turning to look at me with his hand on the knob, his eyes scan over me, making me feel light-headed. “I’ll plan so
mething for next weekend,” he says, opening the bedroom door and disappearing without another word, making my heart fill with worry. It’s hard to see him leave for work whenever he has to go. Being a police officer has never been a safe occupation, but with the added tension between the police and the public right now, I worry about him whenever he wears his badge.
“Either Levi’s a five-minute man or you two didn’t have sex,” Libby states, walking into my room and plopping down onto the bed. I roll my eyes at her, then turn and dig through the closet for my ankle-length coat.
“What?” I ask when I turn to find her staring at me with wide eyes.
“You look . . . you look amazing. Holy shit, what have you done to yourself?”
“I didn’t do anything. I just straightened my hair—you’ve seen it like this before,” I say, and she shakes her head.
“No, it’s not the hair . . . it’s you . . . You look . . . you look really happy.”
“I am really happy,” I say softly, and she blinks at me, then widens her eyes.
“You’re in love.”
“How can you tell?”
“You just look happy, happier than I’ve ever seen you. Don’t worry, I doubt anyone else will notice.”
“Notice what?” Mac asks, coming into the room, and I wait to see if she sees the same thing as Libby. “You’re in love,” she states, and I feel my heart beat a little harder.
“How can you tell?”
“It’s written all over your face.”
“Do you think Levi can tell?” Mac sweeps her eyes over me.
“I don’t know.” She shrugs. “But I do know that the guy who just left a few minutes ago looked pretty fucking happy to me, and if I’m not mistaken, he may also be in love with you.”
“Do you really think so?”
“Yeah,” she says as her face softens. “You’re easy to love, Fawn. I wouldn’t be surprised at all if he’s in love with you, too.” God, I hope he is in love with me, because the idea of him not caring for me the way I care for him is enough to make me feel sick.
“He told me today that he wants us to move in together.”
“And you’re sitting here questioning if he loves you or not?” Libby says, shaking her head. “No man would want to live with a woman unless he’s in love with her. Trust me, if I didn’t love Mac, I sure as hell wouldn’t live with her.”