Imagine With Me (With Me in Seattle 15)

“I can’t feel my feet,” I realize and lean over to make sure they’re still there. In doing so, I almost fall off the stool, but Shawn catches me. “Are my feet there?”

“Yes.” He has laughter in his green eyes. “And we should think about getting you home.”

“It’s early.”

“It’s three,” Stasia announces. “We should go, too. I have to work in the kitchen all day tomorrow.”

Shawn taps on his phone and then looks up at me. “Our ride will be here in three minutes. Let’s go wait outside, and get you some fresh air.”

“Why don’t you seem drunk?” I ask after we say goodbye to everyone and make our way out to the sidewalk in front of the pub.

“Oh, I’m pretty wasted,” he says. “Definitely had too much to drive safely.”

“You’re not even slurring your words.”

“I’m a mellow drunk,” he says. “And I’m not quite as sloshed as you.”

“It’s the whiskey. I’m not used to it.”

He smiles and kisses my temple. It feels so damn good every time his lips touch me. I could quickly become addicted to having him near, to feeling his touch. And I’m not usually one to enjoy a handsy man, but Shawn has a special gift for touch.

Our car arrives, and we jump into the back. The driver is quiet, and we follow suit, sitting silently in the dark backseat. I lean my head on Shawn’s shoulder, and his fingertips drift up and down my thigh.

I may look relaxed, but my body is on high alert. I want Shawn O’Callaghan—in the biblical sense, as Keegan put it. But I’ll be damned if I say so. Because we’re working together, and I do not, under any circumstances, want to make it weird.

The ride to Shawn’s is fairly fast. Once we’re parked, Shawn thanks the driver and leads me to the front door, which he quickly unlocks. He gestures for me to walk in ahead of him, and I drop my bag on the table inside the door and slip out of my shoes. When I turn to face Shawn, I find him staring at me with intense green eyes, his hands fisted at his sides.

He looks like a wolf on the prowl for prey.

Moving around and getting the fresh air helped to clear some of the whiskey from my brain. I’m clearheaded enough to know exactly what I’m doing.

“I don’t know,” he begins, his words slow and measured, “if I’ll be able to keep my hands off you tonight, Lex.”

I feel the grin spread over my face. “Well, that’s a relief.”

He doesn’t smile in return. He also makes no move toward me.

“I’ve wanted you naked since the moment I saw you at that party, when I buggered everything up.”

“You were kind of a jerk. If that’s how you come on to women, you have a lot to learn. I could probably teach you some tricks, give you pointers, that sort of thing.”

Yes, I’m babbling. I babble when I’m nervous.

He slowly walks toward me, moving as if his feet are stuck in molasses. Or am I just still drunk enough that everything seems in slow motion?

“We need to set some ground rules,” he says as he reaches out and does his signature move, the whole slipping my hair behind my ear bit.

My earlobe tingles where his skin made contact.

“Ground rules.” I swallow hard as I stare at his supple mouth. I’m going to bite him. I just decided.

“First and foremost,” he begins, tugging my shirt out of the waistband of my jeans, “I’m not going to marry you.”

I giggle. “Thank God. Because as hot as you are, Shawn, you’re a massive pain in my ass. I’m absolutely not marrying you either.”

His lips twitch. “Excellent. I think.” He slips the shirt over my head and tosses it to the floor. I fist his soft gray cotton tee in my hands and pull it up, exposing rock-hard and tanned abs.

“Holy hell.” I swallow hard. “Are we still setting ground rules, or can I go ahead and lick your stomach?”

He growls. “Still talking, so keep your tongue to yourself. Because once we get started, there’s no going back.”

I take a deep breath and finish tugging the shirt over his head and throw it on the floor with mine. Next, my finger dives into the waistband of his jeans, and I bite my lower lip when the tip of my finger meets the head of his cock.

“Wow.”

He closes his eyes and clenches his jaw. “Fuck.”

“Oh, I hope we will, yes.”

He laughs and urges my hand away from his pants, then kisses my palm and presses it against his chest. With his eyes on mine, he keeps talking.

“I just want to make sure we’re on the same page here. We’re going to have some of the best sex of our lives, work on this project, and then go our separate ways when it’s over.”