Just Can't Forget You: Oakland Hills Short Story 2 (Oakland Hills #3.5)(11)

But her small closet only held one item of clothing that was suitable for a nice restaurant. Obviously, she had no choice. She had to wear the black wrap dress that clung to her body like morning dew on rose petals. It was either that or a men’s shirt and old jeans.

She wondered what it would be like to wear one of his shirts. And nothing else, of course. After he’d worn it, so she could smell him.

She still didn’t know what he did for a living, and her curiosity was almost as powerful as the romantic, erotic longing. They could converse over small plates of mixed olives and cheese. So, are you FBI? A body extra in Hollywood?

Polite chit-chat with a customer.

She could keep it professional, even if they were friendly.

She could.

It was fun to slip on the sexy dress, spritz her neck with perfume, caress her most expensive moisturizer onto her skin. She hadn’t been on a date in over a year.

She lifted her breasts higher in the push-up bra, tugged the neckline lower. And yes, she was wearing her semi-transparent lace panties, the ones that were usually buried in the drawer under the white cotton grannies.

The sound of a motorcycle engine made her gasp.

“Get a grip, girl,” she told herself, checking her lipstick in the mirror before walking over to the door. Her studio apartment was inside the converted garage of a large brown Craftsman. Nothing great but not too bad.

Very private.

She waited until he rang the doorbell before she opened the door.

“Good ev—” Eduardo cut himself off and stared at her.

Nerves made her shift her weight from one kitten heel to the other. “What?”

He pinned her with his gaze. “You know what.”

“I wasn’t going to go out looking dirty.”

One dark eyebrow arched.

“Not that kind of dirty,” she amended.

He stepped into the doorway, glancing past her. “Can I come in?” The deep voice that had appealed to her from the beginning slipped over her skin like a sultry breeze.

“Aren’t we—” She cut herself off. Her heart was pounding against her ribs. “Be my guest,” she said, and moved aside to let him in.

He took a step into the living-room-bedroom-kitchen and turned. Cramped in the entrance, he was only inches away, seeming even larger in her tiny home.

Swallowing over her dry throat, she said, “It’s not much, but—”

His mouth came down on hers in a firm, hungry kiss. Stunned, she froze in place, feeling his hand slide up the side of her neck and cup her cheek. She felt the touch of his tongue along her lips.

Oh. Oh. Oh.

Then both of his hands were holding her face, and he turned her slightly to one side as he deepened the kiss. Whiskers scraped against her skin.

She felt him everywhere: over her spine, through her torso to her thighs, down to her toes. Her knees buckled as sensation poured through her.

He lifted his head and looked into her eyes. Waiting the way a predator would wait—not for permission, but for another strike.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. She’d planned on using the hours at the restaurant to make up her mind. But this was now, this was right now. Her heart was beating too fast.

Her panic had nothing to do with her job at the nursery. Ian probably wouldn’t care if she slept with Eduardo. Even if her personal life intersected with a customer’s, he didn’t want to know anything about it. And how would he even find out? Ian stuck earbuds in his ears whenever Jake and Mary started talking about their personal lives. He disappeared into the pond supplies if the talk went on too long.

No, this was all about her. This was about taking risks.

How long could she live in fear of repeating the past?

Too long. She tunneled her fingers into his hair, pulled his head down, and stretched up on her tiptoes to meet him halfway.





10


A LOW MOAN EMERGED FROM Eduardo’s throat as his arms came around her, hauling her against him as his tongue slipped between her lips. She felt his hand press against the small of her back, slip around her waist, then move up her ribs to her breast. He squeezed, rubbing his thumb along her puckering nipple under the thin fabric.

Caught up in the blaze of feeling, she pressed herself against him and thought about taking him and being taken now where they stood, against the wall, climbing up him and riding him in mindless abandon, right there next to the small table by the door where she put her keys and the junk mail.


But then sense returned, stopping her from kicking off her shoes, hooking both legs around his hips, and riding him into the sunset. She didn’t even know what he did for a living. She’d enjoyed her fantasy about him being in law enforcement or international fashion, but what if he’d become some kind of lowlife criminal? What if he was dangerous?

That last thought didn’t have the chilling effect it should have. To the contrary; now she was licking his back molars. She didn’t care. She wanted to eat him. He was the most delicious man she’d ever tasted.

Dangerous…

“Melissa?” His deep voice rumbled in her left ear. His teeth caught her lobe lightly and nibbled.

Mmm. She melted into him. He smelled wonderful, felt even better.

“Is this going where I think it’s going?” he asked, dropping kisses along her throat to the hollow between her breasts. “Right now?”