Breathless (58 page)

She smiles. “Is a Lamborghini too much?”

I raise my eyebrows. “Jesus, a Lamborghini? Don’t start small or anything. How am I supposed to impress you now?”

With a smug expression, Alix glances up at me. “You’re trying to impress me?”

“I dropped water into my lap and ruined lunch. What do you think?”

She giggles. “Well, lunch isn’t over yet. I’m not a great cook, so there’s still a good chance ruining it can fall on my shoulders.”

I fish my car keys from my pocket. “If you can cook better than I can, I think we’ll be okay.”

I hit the button and lights flash five feet in front of us. Lambo or not, my 2014 Jaguar F-Type Coupe R is pretty impressive—and I make a quick mental note not to say it like that again. I have a few cars, but this one I like the most.

“A Jag,” she states simply, letting her arm slip from mine. “Not bad.”

“But it’s no Lamborghini,” I point out as I saunter around to the driver’s side.

Her lips pull at the corners as she reaches out to touch its sleek, black body. “You know, suddenly you’re a lot more bearable.”

I rest my arms on the roof of the car and look over at her. “Suddenly,
I’m
more bearable? You’re not exactly a capsicum anymore either.”

Alix snorts. “A capsicum? What?”

“Yes, a capsicum—unbearable, sharp and hard to stomach.”

Her lips drag wider—excited by my insult almost. I have to give it to her. She’s a hard woman to offend—not that I was trying to offend her.

“Some people find capsicums irresistible. They’re shapely, firm and delicious.” Her eyes flare. “Didn’t your mother ever tell you to eat your vegetables?”

I definitely don’t miss the double meaning in her words and I feel my eyebrows furrow as I analyze her expression. She enjoys my discomfort, but I won’t let her get the better of me this time.

“I do,” I simply say, before opening my door and lowering myself into the driver’s seat.

I don’t open her door for her. She didn’t much appreciate the polite gesture at the restaurant, so I really don’t want to open myself up for another comment about the night we spent together. I was there. I’m aware how awkward it was.

Alix opens the door and drops ungracefully into the seat. She’s
definitely
not like the other women I’ve had in my car. I know a lot of people, I go to a lot of events and my list of dates is anything but small, but they’re all exactly the same. Tall, slim and polite—beyond polite—but Alix… well, she doesn’t seem to care too much about etiquette. I want to find it endearing, but it’s quite annoying, actually.

“What vegetables do you like?” She asks, her eyes skimming over the interior.

“Potatoes,” I tell her.

Potatoes are a favorite of mine… along with broccoli and carrots. Not that that’s important information to learn. I slip my key into the ignition and my baby roars into life.

“Stiff, bland, and tasteless.” She mutters. “Go figure.”

I roll my eyes and work on ignoring her as I reverse out of my parking space.

***

Alix

I’m not going to lie. His car is beautiful. Then again, I didn’t expect anything less for a man like him. I’m unable to pull the quirk from my lips as a result of our conversation. It’s kind of thrilling bickering with him, and to be honest, I like the shade of pink that spreads over his smooth skin whenever I say something inappropriate.

Once we’re out of the underground parking lot and into the street, Jesse relaxes further into his seat and presses his foot harder against the gas. I sneak a peek at him sideways and admire the long ropes of muscle in his forearms. For a guy stuck in meetings all of the time, he sure is in great shape.

“Staring is rude.” He states with a smirk as his fingers tighten around the wheel.

“It’s only rude if you’re staring at someone because they have a visual impairment. You clearly do not, so my kind of staring isn’t rude, it’s complimentary.”

He glances at me. “You have a retort for just about anything, don’t you?”

“Only when my dignity is being questioned.” Okay. That’s a lie. I don’t have dignity, but I do have an opinion on just about everything. It’s probably why most people find me annoying.

With a sigh, he turns on the music and adjusts the volume loud enough for conversation to be drowned out. It’s not ear drum bursting, but it’s enough to stop me from yelling over the top of it.

When we arrive at my apartment, Jesse takes up the only available space with my number on it. I have three spaces for myself, but the neighbors have quickly realized I don’t have a car, and now use two of them for themselves. I don’t mind, I suppose. You know, other than the fact they didn’t even ask me.

Without a word, we exit the car. The Jag looks completely out of place here. I mean, I live in a nice area and everything is clean and well maintained, but it’s not
that
nice,
that
clean or
that
well maintained. Suddenly, I feel a slight pang of shame for bringing him here… like what I have won’t be to his standards. I shake the thoughts off. Not everyone can be millionaires and that’s not my fault. I head for the stairs.

“Stairs?” He asks, walking closely behind me.

“Yep, stairs. Not all of us can afford to live in penthouse suites with elevators from the private parking lot to the front door.”

My tone comes out snarkier than I mean, but I don’t apologize. It’s one thing to feel any kind of inadequacy when it comes to Jesse and his lifestyle, but to lose face in front of him is another thing entirely. I’m Alix. I am bitchy, sarcastic and in control. Hm, maybe I should get it printed on a shirt?

“I didn’t mean it like that,” he says, as I begin my climb to the sixth floor. “I was implying that stairwells and small women don’t sound like a safe combination—especially when you finish at the hours you do.”

Small women? Well, there’s a first for everything. I guess to a tall, wide machine like him I do seem quite small.

“Thanks for the concern,” I tell him. “But most of my shoes come with a crazy heel. I pity whoever tries to attack me while I’m wearing them.”

He blows air from his cheeks. “Alix the brave—stabbing hearts with shoes since two thousand fourteen.”

Abruptly, I whip around. “Two thousand eight—”

My ankle gives out from underneath me and I squeak as I lose my balance. Not wanting to crack my head open, I surge forward and wrap my arms around Jesse’s neck. His arms circle my waist and he pulls me tightly against him. His breath is hot and quick on my face, and I’m sure mine is on his too. I glance at his mouth, less than an inch from mine, and quickly all memories from the other night become clouded.
Maybe it wasn’t as bad as I thought?

“Are you seriously staring at my mouth right now?”

He’s incredibly warm and smells like an exotic mix of cucumber, lime and green tea.

“Yes. You have a beautiful mouth. By the way, are both your parents Caucasian, because your lips are—”

He crushes his mouth to mine and the impulse of it steals my breath. My head spins and pulsates all at once as he glides his tongue against my bottom lip.
God, I can’t even breathe.
And just like that, I’ve become putty in his stupid, confusing hands. Jesse pulls away, looking not nearly as affected as I do, and I drop my arms from around his neck. I sway briefly before stepping away from him. If this were a novel, he’d make some cliché joke about falling for him.

“If I knew it was that easy to shut you up, I’d have done it sooner.”

There’s no smugness to his tone or his demeanor. Oh, what a charmer. On another note, since when has he been capable of making my blood burn in my veins? Why did that one kiss have more passion than the night we spent together? I don’t know the answer to either of those questions, but I’m eager to find out.
Super
eager.

“Well what do you know? You
are
capable of a little
fire
. Here I was thinking you’d burnt out,” I tease as lean against the cold, metal railing.

“Don’t mistake my desperation in stopping you from talking as passion. And take your shoes off or I might actually let you break your neck next time.”

Ooh, the authority in his voice sends a hot flash of tingles down my spine. He has so much potential that he’s wasting it on plain sex. With a smile, I slip my feet out of my heels and scoop them up.

“We’re barely at my front door and you’re already barking orders like you’re king of the castle.”

I turn and bounce up the stairs. Behind me, I hear his shoes click against the concrete. They sound heavy and tired, but I don’t look over my shoulder despite how badly I want to mock him. He’s clearly more in shape than me, but my thighs are weathered to this kind of movement. I’ve been climbing these stairs for years. I doubt he’s climbed stairs a day in his life. He probably had an elevator in the house he grew up in too.

“Jesus,” He pants. “I take back what I said. You
do
need an elevator.”

“Don’t be a baby. We’re almost there.”

I lied. We’re only two floors up and still need to go four more, but I’m not about to tell him that.

When we eventually make it to the sixth floor and I turn the key, a panting Jesse practically barges past me and into my apartment. The first room you see as you open the door is my living room, and sure enough, Jesse drops himself into my black, leather recliner.

“That climb is not pleasant on an empty stomach.” He complains. “I think I’m going to pass out.”

Ignoring him, I drop my heels by the shoe rack next to the door. “Don’t get sweat on my recliner. It’s expensive,” I say as I saunter into the kitchen.

I didn’t plan to have anyone over to eat today. To be honest, my libido sort of took charge when I offered it at the restaurant.
Idiot.
I wish it’d taken food, or lack thereof, into account. I open the fridge and stare at the random contents inside. I have a day-old roast chicken, as well as left over beet and feta salad. I made the salad on my own and I smile proudly into my refrigerator.

“What the hell is that?” Jesse demands from his recliner.

I grab the containers of roast chicken and salad, turn around and kick the door shut with my foot. Sitting on the floor at Jesse’s feet is Four and he’s meowing his little noise—demanding to know why Jesse is in
his
seat. When I’m home and sitting on it, so is Four. He sleeps on it most nights and probably spends the entire day there too. I drop the containers onto the table and walk over to Four. With a husky meow, he approaches me and circles my feet. His soft fur is warm against my skin.

“
That
is Four, my little Persian kitty.”

“He has to be the ugliest—”

I glare at him, daring him to finish his sentence. He doesn’t. Suddenly, tired of the scene (or offended by Jesse’s harsh words), Four ambles back down the hall to my room, leaving us alone. I return to the kitchen and fetch a fork each. When I return with the containers and forks, Jesse frowns at me.

“No plates?”

“It’s going into your belly all the same. I’ll get you a plate if you think it’ll make it taste better.”

He shakes his head. “Containers are fine.”

I hand him his fork and the chicken container, and drop into the couch adjoined to the recliner. “When you want salad, we’ll switch.”

I stab a slice of beet with my fork and pop it into my mouth. It’s not too fresh, but it still tastes alright.

“You should know this is the weirdest thing I’ve ever done,” he admits as he catches a piece of chicken on the end of his fork. He surveys the small piece before it passes his lips and he grinds it between his perfect teeth. “Do you always eat like this?”

I shrug, not wanting to mention the fact that a month ago, fresh warm meals were the norm for me. “I guess.”

“It’s so much easier, isn’t it?”

I guess it is. I’ve never really seen it like that.

“You don’t have to wait for food or pay ridiculous amounts for it.” He bites down on another piece of chicken. “And to be honest, it tastes a hell of a lot better than the food they serve in those places.”

My lips curl as I watch him enjoy living the simple life. He’s always out and about or in the hotel so easy meals must be something he seldom has. I’m glad he’s enjoying it—or at least pretending to so he doesn’t hurt my feelings.

“So, Alix, I know you don’t have a boyfriend, but do you have family?”

I hand him my container and we switch.

“Who says I don’t have a boyfriend?” I ask, sounding a hell of a lot more defensive than I intended to.

Jesse’s face drains its color and it’s hard not to smile at it, or the piece of beet and feta he holds on his fork in front of his open mouth.

I laugh. “I’m kidding. I don’t have a boyfriend.”

Color floods back into his face. “You are a horrible human being.” He eats his beet and cheese. “Family?”

Ugh. This is a subject I
don’t
want to delve into. It always works me up. “I have them. I don’t need them, but I have them.”

His beautiful brown eyes thin like he’s trying to decipher the meaning behind it. “You don’t need them?”

I stab a piece of chicken and avoid his intense gaze. “Nope.”

My relationship with my family hasn’t always been the easiest. I ditched them the second I legally could and I only go back when they insist I absolutely have to—which also happens to be around the exact same time that they want to celebrate my younger sister for doing something amazing like getting her PhD in Literature.

“I’m sensing a little resentment.” He pries, shifting on the recliner.

“And I’m sensing you have trouble minding your own business.”

His brows pull together. “Don’t get snarky with me. You’re the one who wants to be intimate with each other when the lunches and dinners are over. Knowing a bit more about you will make it a hell of a lot more comfortable for me.”

I knew it. I knew sex was a connection thing with him. I sigh. “Fine. I have a Mom, Dad and a younger sister.” I slip another piece of chicken into my mouth and hand him the container. We switch. “I haven’t visited them in over eleven months and, if I’m being honest, it hasn’t been long enough for my liking. My little sister, Grace, is the pride and joy of my family. She’s perfect in every way. She’s well traveled, she went to college, she’s been valedictorian
twice
and she received a PhD in Literature eleven months ago
.
It doesn’t help that both my parents are respected surgeons. I, on the other hand, am a high school dropout who never went to college. I’ve never left the state. I drink too much, spend too much time with my head in the clouds and I never married the one guy my parents approved of.” The last point is bitter on my tongue. “I loved Scott. I really did, but what he wanted and what my parents wanted wasn’t what I wanted.”